Is that what I think it is??

Some things, you just never expect to see.

This is what I found on my way to work this morning -- a man tightrope walking between buildings. I think it was an advertisement for something, but to be honest, I don't really know. I was in a hurry, initially irritated by the commotion that I was walking into. I thought it was just another tour group taking up the entire sidewalk, which is the typical source of commotion on my way to work. But when I got closer, I couldn't believe it. I had to walk under the rope to get where I was going, hoping he didn't choose to fall at the same exact moment. I snapped a quick cell phone picture, and then I continued to get on the metro, half wondering if I made up what I had just seen. Thank God for camera phones. This photo is legit, too... probably the coolest picture I've taken in a really long time. The subject matter is pretty awesome, too. I hope it makes your day like it made mine. :) Is it possible to witness something like this and not have it make your day?

This picture reminds me of a book I read last year called "Let the Great World Spin" by Colum McCann, which looks at the lives of several people in 1974, when a man tight rope walked between the Twin Towers. There is also a documentary about the walker, Philippe Petit, called "Man on Wire". So good, I recommend them both! 

The Little Sister in Me

I am a little sister. I am the last born -- a natural instigator (just ask my brother, cerca age 8). I learn how to press peoples' buttons, and I do so ever so slightly, enough to evoke a reaction. And then I innocently watch as the consequences unfold. (These days, I usually refrain from button-pushing, unless I just can't help it.)

I also thrive in an environment of slight disorder. (I said slight, Mom.) I don't make my bed. When I am working on a project, I like my supplies and notes to envelop me. When I am cooking, I like to leave dishes and opened jars of food all over the counter until I'm finished. When I am getting dressed, I like to leave piles of clothes on the bed or chair until I choose the right outfit (and sometimes I leave them longer). I like to live in a way that, if you should walk into my apartment at any given time, you would think, "somebody lives here."

Are any of those things wrong?

Maybe it's not wrong, but it's definitely wrong for this apartment. Though I don't care about the direction of the utensils in the silverware drawer, or the way my shampoo bottles sit in the shower, or how the tea towel (i.e. Terrible Towel) hangs in the kitchen, or which end of the laundry lines the knots sit on, or where the furniture sits in the living room, I have a flatmate who does care. Too much. Like, OCD too much.

Being the instigator that I am, I can't help but put the utensils in the opposite direction, knowing that they will be reversed the next time I open the drawer. I can't help but hang my bath sponge on the hook, knowing that the next time I enter the bathroom, it will be taken down. I can't help but leave the knots unaligned when I finish taking my laundry down.

And maybe it's wrong to instigate. But I am pretty sure it goes both ways.

Artsy Fartsy

This painting was my project for the week. I did it with watercolor paints and outlined it with a fine sharpie. It is based on a quote that I posted a few weeks ago.

Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that, but simply growth. We are happy when we are growing. -William Butler Yeats

 This is the first thing I have painted this year... and hopefully it's not the last (especially since I bought a 40 pack of watercolor paper). I'm just waiting for the winds of inspiration to blow my way. :)

The painting!

And edited, in picnik.. haha

Currently Reading...

And that's pretty much all that I've been doing lately. Just reading. Since I found myself without private English classes to give last week (and indefinitely), I seem to have much more time for myself. It's not like my lessons occupied that much time, but when I think about my schedule now, it's pretty much wide open.

Though I would definitely consider myself a reader, I don't usually read all that quickly. One year, I read 25 books in a year, and I thought that was good. This year I'm going for 30. I have already read three books in January. I'm halfway through the fourth. And right now, I have three books checked out from the library (Two in English, on my kindle, and one in Spanish, from the public library here). In three weeks, I have to return them all, which means I don't have time to stop the reading trend any time soon.

I figure that now is as good a time as ever to tell you just how much I love my Kindle. (And no, Amazon didn't put me up to this.) My mom bought me a Kindle for Christmas last year, and it has pretty much been my favorite ever since. I used to think that e-readers were just a trend, that they would never last, and that books had so much more character (no pun intended), especially used books. But books are also heavy, and they take up a lot of space in a suitcase, and they aren't always widely available in English when I want them. The beauty of the kindle, for me, is that in less than a minute, I can have almost any book I'd like to read in English (except for any of the Harry Potter books, clearly). Usually they are reasonably priced, too. And the best part is, I can still take the books home with me when I leave. In fact, I can carry them all around with me, every day, and never have to think twice about it.

So, naturally, my new favorite discovery is that I can check out books from the library to read on my Kindle. Impressive. But even more impressive is that I can borrow books from my library at home from another continent. Maybe I can't keep all of the notes and underlinings that I make in the book after I return it, but the beauty of not having to pay for every single book I download totally outweighs any inconvenience. I'd like to kiss whoever thought of this.

So... have you read anything good lately?

Want to Know What Heaven Smells Like?

In Spain, I have come across many things that heaven does not smell like. For instance, the horses that sit outside of the cathedral in Sevilla, or the smell of a pescadería (fish market), or the B.O. scent that tends to linger on public buses when it's warm outside.

But I have also found the closest scent possible to heaven -- a mixture of Catholic church incense and rosemary. This is the smell of Corpus Christi in Toledo. In Sevilla, it's the smell at the corner of Avenida de la Constitución and Calle García de Vinuesa, where a man sits daily outside of the Horno de San Buenaventura and peddles incesnse kits for at-home burning. (I kind of want one.)

I may not agree with everything in the Catholic church, but one thing we do have in common? -- What we think heaven should smell like.

'Bird by Bird' clippings

So, I just finished reading Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott. Maybe it's a strange book to pick up for a leisurely read, but I've actually wanted to read it for some time. Aside from this blog, and the occasional unfortunate entry in my real-life, tangible journal, and maybe a nonsense poem every now and then, I don't really write. But I like the idea of it. I wish I were a writer. So, I thought, perhaps this book could teach me a thing or two-- maybe it could fill me in on some of the secrets of the writer's life. I really enjoyed the book, mostly because I enjoy Anne Lamott and her incredibly honest, often amusing stories. But the book kind of gave me a glimpse into the life and thought processes of writer. I'm not exactly sure I'm up to the task, (it seems rather daunting and demanding), but I kind of like dabbling.

I borrowed this book from the library, (on my kindle!), and I was rather displeased to find out, after finishing the book, that your bookmarks and clippings don't actually show up in your clippings folder for borrowed books. So, I decided to write down what I "underlined". These are just some quotes that I liked. Some are relevant to life, some are less so. Some are funny, and some just sound nice. And yes, I could have just left these clippings in my "drafts" folder, but I figured, if I've already written them out, maybe you, too, could find some little gem of wit or wisdom to tuck away for later. I hope you enjoy them, and if you're at all interested in writing, I would definitely recommend the book.

Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist's true friend. What people somehow (inadvertently, I'm sure) forgot to mention when we were children was that we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here--and, by extension, what we're supposed to be writing. p. 32

In general, though, there's no point in writing hopeless novels. We all know we're going to die; what's important is the kind of men and women we are in the face of this. p. 51

Just as everyone is a walking advertisement for who he or she is, so every room is a little showcase of its occupants' values and personalities. Every room is about memory. Every room gives us layers of information about our past and present and who we are, our shrines and quirks and hopes and sorrows, our attempts to prove that we exist and are more or less Okay. You can see, in our rooms, how much light we need--how many light bulbs, candles, skylights we have--and in how we keep things lit you can see how we try to comfort ourselves. The mix in our rooms is so touching: the clutter and the cracks in the wall belie a bleakness or brokenness in our lives, while photos and a few rare objects show our pride, our rare shining moments. p. 74

(talking about characters), you will finally have to admit that who they are isn't who you thought they were.
Dying people can teach us this more directly. Often the attributes that define them drop away--the hair, the shape, the skills, the cleverness. And then it turns out that the packaging is not who that person has really been all along. Without the package, another sort of beauty shines through. p. 83

if you want to make God laugh, tell her your plans. p. 87

I honestly think that in order to be a writer, you have to learn to be reverent. If not, why are you writing? Why are you here? p. 99

Mostly things are not that way, that simple and pure, with so much focus given to each syllable of life as life sings itself. But that kind of attention is the prize. To be engrossed by something outside ourselves is a powerful antidote for the rational mind, the mind that so frequently has its head up its own ass--seeing things in such a narrow and darkly narcissistic way that it presents a colo-rectal theology, offering hope to no one. p 102

It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend to keep things running right is not what's keeping things running right. p. 180

"Is life too short to be taking shit, or is life too short to be minding it?" quoted from Violet Weingarten's Intimations of Mortality p. 187

Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul. When writers make us shake our heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our buoyancy is restored. We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again. It's like singing on a boat during a terrible storm at sea. You can't stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship. p.237

Overcoming the Bystander Effect, Kind Of.

So, as I mentioned in my last post, my days in Toledo were mostly great. But I also mentioned that something really unfortunate happened. After debating for a few days about whether or not I wanted to share this story, and to what extent of detail, I am finally attempting to let this all out.

At the risk of sounding melodramatic, this is a horrifying story. And though I am not directly involved in what happened, it's kind of life-changing. I have spent approximately half of the last 4 days thinking about it, while simultaneously trying to "get over it". But I don't really know how. Aside from the friends who were with me when it happened, I have talked about it with less than a handful of people. Hopefully sharing it will help me to clear my mind a bit more. So here goes.

Friday was a fairly carefree day for Bailey, Elizabeth, and me. We, (or should I say, I) woke up in the early afternoon, and not really wanting to jump directly on a bus to Madrid, we decided to stay in Toledo an extra night. We didn't really do much all day, but we did go out for tapas at night. We left our favorite restaurant around 1 AM, trying to decide if we should get another drink or not on the way home.

About 2 minutes after leaving the restaurant, we heard an American girl crying hysterically in English saying, "Where is she?? Is she alive?? Tell me where she is!!" Her friends, not native English speakers, were forcefully trying to calm her down. The three of us just looked at each other, confused. Should we help?

To be honest, my first instinct was that she was probably just really drunk. After all, it was 1 AM on a Friday night, and she was probably just talking about a cat or something. But after some more crying and screaming, between the three of us, we decided to ask and make sure everything was okay. But we never expected the situation that we walked into.

It turns out that the crying girl has been living in Toledo, and she had 2 friends from home come to visit her that morning. They were hanging out at another friend's apartment, when one of the American girls somehow fell from the 3rd floor to the ground patio. This part of the story is still rather unclear. We don't really know if she was drinking, or how much she was drinking, or where she fell from, or how. All I know is that I took a peek into the patio and saw one of the most horrifying sights of my life. As one who does not handle blood or injury well, I knew that I couldn't go out into the patio.

Because the police and ambulance had not arrived yet, our first priority was making sure they had been called. The scene was rather chaotic, as you can imagine. The fact that there were three of us meant that we could all simultaneously talk to the people involved, try to offer support and calm them, and help with translation issues between the girls and the police when needed. I cannot imagine going through this experience in my hometown, in my native language. To be in a foreign country and speaking a foreign language must have made it all the more upsetting.

The scene was just so chaotic. None of her friends really knew what happened, or how, or what to do next. There were so many police, many of whom weren't in uniform, and none of whom spoke English. The poor woman who lived in the bottom apartment was on the verge of a nervous breakdown as well. And the truth is, none of us really knew how the girl was doing. One of her friends was a nurse, and luckily, she was able to help her and stay with her, but none of us knew whether the outcome would be good or bad. When the ambulance came, they were able to stabilize her. They were with her for a long time, and then they took her to the nearest hospital. The next day, we learned that they were going to keep her in a coma for a few days. And as of yesterday, we heard that they are still waiting, but that she seems to be doing a little better.

Having seen all of this, everything seems kind of trivial now. Everything we were worried about all day paled in comparison to the events that unfolded. I can't help but be grateful for life. I thank God for his protection, and pray that he will continue to protect me and my loved ones. I know it seems like a crazy detail, but some of my friends actually lived in the apartment that this girl fell from last year. When I think about that, I can't help but think about how it could have been any of us, and I just thank God that it wasn't.

At the same time, I am terrified of accidents now. To think that you could look forward to a trip to Spain for so long, show up, and end up in a coma on your first night there leaves me with a gnawing sense of discomfort, knowing that the world is chaotic and life is unfair. I am suddenly afraid of being so far away from my family, should anything happen to me, or God forbid, to one of them. I know that "God has a plan for everything", but when you see something like this, it's hard to see what good can possibly come of it. The whole ordeal has left me with both deeper faith and deeper questioning. Every time she crosses my mind, I pray for her and her friends and family, and I just can't imagine the pain and feelings that they are having to deal with. If I am this affected by it, imagine what they feel.

And somehow, I still feel really guilty. Despite the fact that we did stop to help, I keep thinking about how I almost didn't stop. I wanted to keep on walking. Bystander effect, right? If there's really a problem, someone else will help. Getting involved with a hysterical stranger at 1 AM didn't really seem like a good idea. But I just thank God that my friends talked me into it. Now I can't imagine not stopping. I can't imagine having to go through that situation alone, especially in a foreign language. I think that our presence helped to calm the girls down, and I think they were really grateful that we were there.

So did we overcome the bystander effect? I guess so. But as a psychology major, having studied it so much in school, I wish my first instinct would have told me to stop and help a stranger.

Anyway, I just ask that you pray for Lauren, the girl who fell, and for her friends, Megan and Julie, and her family. I really can't imagine how horrible of a phone call that must have been, on either end. Pray for healing, and for peace and comfort.

And the next time you see someone that might need help, stop. Because you may be helping more than you really know.

2012, Can You Start Being Nicer? Please?

my roscón treasure!

Well, here we are, a little over a week into 2012. And how has it been? Let's just say that I might believe people when they say the world is going to end this year. If my first week is any indication of things to come, I'm scared. But despite the bad things that have happened, most have been resolved favorably. And I did get the figurita in a piece of roscón de reyes, sooo... prosperity and good luck are headed my way! I guess we'll just have to wait and see! 

To begin, my computer broke the night before my return to Spain. The power jack broke, and it would no longer charge. After lots of last minute scrambling, and even a little bit of crying in a computer repair shop when they told me they couldn't help me, and after spending my last 2 hours in the United States transferring all of my music and pictures onto my mom's laptop, I am happy to say that it seems that things are going to be okay. My mom, being the awesome lady she is, gave me her laptop.. and reminded me that I had bought a warranty for my own.. and the warranty is going to cover the whole cost of repair. And when it comes back, she is just going to use my computer. Whew... what horrible timing. And also, what good timing. Thank God my computer didn't break after I got here. That would have really been bad!

Anyway, I also found out the day after arriving to Spain that my mom would be having surgery in a few days. I was kind of distraught. I think that the worst part of being away from home is not being able to be there for those kinds of situations. So, I was really nervous. But, the good news is that she went in for surgery today. And everything turned out fine. I think it was even better than they had thought, because they let her go home the same day. I was really relieved to hear that.

Also, my first few days back in Spain were spent in Toledo and Madrid. Mostly Toledo, though. I'm sure that by now, you all know how much I love it. It was a nice weekend... for the most part. I got to hang out with Bailey and Liz, and we stopped at all of our old favorite places. It's nice to go back, to feel so comfortable there, to be recognized by waiters and store clerks, and to be asked how we're doing. We wandered the streets, found new shortcuts (because let's face it, there are always shortcuts to be learned in Toledo), and we watched the cabalgata, or the parade for Three Kings Day, which included real, live elephants! Unfortunately, the weekend had it's own share of interesting events, but that deserves its own post, I think.

Tomorrow is my first day back to work. I am kind of excited. I think it will just be good to get back into a routine. And maybe going to work will be the thing that finally breaks my jet lag. Since arriving, I have not gone to bed before 4am, and I have not gotten up before 2pm. Seeing as how I have to be at school by noon tomorrow (I know, I know, I can hardly complain, right?), it looks like I will have to force myself into a normal sleep schedule. Bring it on!

My apartment continues to be a rather hostile environment, but I just learned today that a friend of mine is moving in. Good news! And hopefully better news will follow shortly (that somebody will be on their way out!)!

Also here, I would like to make note of the Steelers losing their first playoff game last night. What a shame. Just when I thought we had reason for hope, it ended just like that... We'll get 'em next year.

But you see, 2012? You need to start being nicer.

Beauty and Kindness

Wise words.