stories, 1st attempt

after reading el zahir (que me di cuenta de que tengo que aprender portugués, porque aun traducido al español, le faltaba algo. las cosas siempre pierden algo cuando intentamos traducirlas.)

so i've been thinking about the "stories" i tell myself. in other words, i've been noticing how in some aspects i "live in the past."

let me explain.

in mid-december i was looking into how much it would cost for a july or august trip to BsAs - for all the usual reasons; less expensive clothes, a vacation, seeing some friends (only the real ones, no more of that amigovio shit ("amigos con derechos sin derecho de tenerte siempre" gracias, mana.) ideally i would have loved to go back there with lauren (with whom i've been friends since we studied in BsAs in 2002) but of course, not everyone's financial situation allows for two-week-minimum trips (mine being one of them).

so when i think of returning for a few weeks with one of my girlfriends, i think of last year and all the fun i had teasing the polistas with la francesa (of course by the fourth night i was tired of being the bonus chick)... which leads me to think of what fun it would be to go with someone i was actually friends with - but then, what would we do?

herein lies the "story" i tell myself: that in BsAs i have lots of fun partying and flirting and buying clothes.

no, i had lots of fun doing that in the past. that does not mean i love to do that now. which is the solution to my problem. lately i've been getting a little down on myself about how i'm not much of a partyer anymore, how i no longer imagine myself the mini-runway model (hey, i am the exact size twiggy was) who lights up a room and attracts all the attention (as nonnie always said, fake it till you make it!), how i'm not really on the cutting edge of fashion anymore (like i ever was, but for a time there i was able to put together some outfits - complete with accessories - of which i was proud).

the solution is this: i've got to remember, that is how i was in the past (not saying that i've drastically changed), under different circumstances. so why feel bad about not going out even half as much as "before" (and i can't exactly pinpoint when that "before" begins and ends)? other things have come into my life/happened that have brought new priorties: i finally know what i want to do (for now); i'm living very far away from "home" with the boyfriend; i have to buy (some of) my own food and cook occasionally. i (will soon be) pay(ing) rent. if i were behaving as i did at 23, things would be very different (i'd look older than 25, that's for sure).

it's like dirty dancing: there was never a sequel because a sequel wouldn't make sense - first-time experiences can't be repeated and experienced exactly as they were the first time. so i can't expect to get the same things i got out of my 23-year-old-behaviors as a 25-soon-to-be-26-year-old.

this kind of thinking helps me make sense of things that change.

like with my accent. it no longer makes sense for me to affect an accent i had nearly perfected (as far as a native-english speaker can perfect it) four years ago. if i were on the same continent as before, then the "accent" wouldn't even be a question, i'd be talking like everyone else around me. while i used to enjoy blending in (again, as far as a strawberry blonde irish-american girl can blend in anywhere in south america), here, now, there is no need. although every once in a while i do love speaking out loud to myself and enjoying the buccal gymnastics of speaking a language not my own.

vamos a la playa!

yesterday, after deciding i was tired of all the cds i have in my car, i made a cd with a bunch of random (spanish-language) songs.

well, my selection of songs is not random; they're songs that remind me of some place/time (as i've said before).

so, for nostalgia's sake, i have a song on the new cd that starts with the same line i have chosen for the title of this post (ya'll know what song i'm talking about, and if you don't, you've never gone on a thanksgiving-night denny's hot chocolate run with me).

now the place this makes me think of has absolutely nothing to do with the song. i had heard this song long before i had ever heard of places like miramar and pinamar.

one thing i regret not doing during my time in the south is not renting an apartment for fifteen days to go party on one of the beaches everyone goes to in january. i did go to pinamar, but way too early so there was nobody there except for a few boogie-boarders wearing full wet suits, and a bunch of grey-breasted parakeets (remember my bird, charlie, who my mom gave to the tobacco store guy? thousands of charlies flying around and making noise, noise, noise.)

as i was driving back from my massage i was considering this. i wondered, is it too late for ME to ir a la playa, a mi me gusta bailar...

hell no!

hm last year when i was there... i didn't go to any clubs (ok, i went to one, but we ran into polistas that la francesa knew so we hung out with them at asia de cuba).

in other words, reassurance to self: you're not too old!

it's just that i feel like partying after escaping from the black hole of time that was the GRE. (i did quite well on verbal - 770 - but embarrassingly (for someone who studied physics) poorly - 560 - on quantitative. i blame that on not being mathematically active for quite some time. who knows how the written part went.)



mar del PLATA! HA! i couldn't remember the name till now - but i'm a snob, i wouldn't go there anyway.

eso

so if you've not been paying attention to the (very, very, SUPER IMPORTANT) news, you should know that our favorite first daughters are in BsAs (or at least were; i haven't yet looked it up).

i'm going to comment on something that is a little old, from last week. namely that one of them had her purse stolen while she was in a restaurant in buenos aires.

so everyone knows that bad stuff occasionally happens to good people. sometimes it is out of our control, but we can take steps to lessen the probability that not so good things, like having your purse stolen, happen to us.

YOU DUMBASS! do you think that just because YOU'RE PART OF A DYNASTY and you have your own SECURITY OUTFIT you can leave your purse lying wherever you want and not think that there's a chance it could be stolen?

they should have told you you need to be aware of your stuff all the time, even with secret service agents. it just makes you seem retarded.

(watch, i'll get my purse stolen and have to eat my words)

if it weren't for the fuck*ng freezing winters, i think i'd definitely like to live in Lincoln Park. it's like yuppie-ville. or as i fondly call it, jetta-land. everyone drives a jetta in that part of chicago. it felt like i was walking the seven or so blocks i walked every day to the subte stop at plaza italia. minus the 1.) spatterings of dog poop anywhere your foot might accidentally step; 2.) smells of fresh fruits and veggies; and 3.) smell of fresh flowers on every corner (ok, i borrowed that one from my time in caballito but still, it's one of those things i'll always associate with bsas.)

i kind of enjoy walking to get my toenails done, walking to get my caffeinne "fixx" (as the cafe is called), walking walking walking. it makes me feel like my ass isn't getting bigger (ok so it's not but still i feel like a lazy ass when i'm in my car more time than not). walking past the bars with the windows open (no screens), shouts, smoke, and laughter coming out onto the sidewalk.

but then i walk up liz's stairs, and imagine the front porch in the winter: covered with a dusting of snow, dark despite the time (it has the level of light unique to chicago winters, one that lies about the time of day until it's dark out. you think it's like 20:00 but in reality it's 16:30), me still in bed or on the couch under a blanket thinking uuugh i've got to get up and shovel the porch and the stairs and the sidewalk... i'm f*cking freezing... oh crap, and then i've gotta put salt down on the stairs so nobody slips. UUUGH! so that means i have to put on tights, then some pants, two shirts, a sweater, my coat, my scarf, hat, gloves... i'll just stay here warm and comfy watching The Dog Whisperer. besides, the snow will melt, eventually. it's not like i have a reason to leave the house until it melts anyway!

though it would be nice to not have to work during the winter and just spend my days reading, drinking tea, taking bubble baths and hibernating.

but alas, i am not a trust fund baby. i'm a college-fund baby!

that's why i'm going somewhere that the winters are much more tolerable.

is it another year for strong solar storms?

things to cause mental/emotional distress keep piling up. though there is no reason, no real reason, it's just a little strange.

i wonder why i cried when he accompanied me in the cab to Republica de Indonesia XX; he stood to kiss me and then told me we wouldn't be able to see each other anymore. then he said something like i'd be a great father, but a horrible husband. i guess it was rejection that i felt. i have to admit it was kind of slightly romantic the first time we met; he was actually the first argentine i ever went out with ('cept for mariano but i'm sure he wasn't married.) it was in a club; then breakfast; then his parent's apt (don't worry, nothing happened); then lunch; then san telmo where we walked around and i remember it was like the coldest day i've ever experienced in buenos aires. i think i got home at three that afternoon. i was very surprised and flattered that he rode in the cab with me to take me home - up to that point nobody had ever provided such a service to me (of course now i'm much more fortunate, as i don't have to so much as open car doors). i guess i cried because maybe i felt like it was b/c i didn't put out. like it was my will against his and it was the first time i'd been rejected for not putting out. hmmm. anyway that's all over now. curiosity leads me to ask when? how long ago? since when had he been engaged? did i participate in an infedility?

oh and this also brings to mind the fact that he was the first to ask me, so how long?
- how long till what?

- till i can marry you?

of course non-seriously. i'm sure that's what he thought i wanted to hear.

but just like juanfer, my homework buddy until he kissed me, i don't know why this bothers me.

further evidence that i should get a shrink for the weeks of my residence here that remain.

new insight: maybe it's because something i really wanted to do in argentina was "enter that world." you know - of polo and rugby and my own illusion of "captial S society." how easy it would have been, then, to "enter that world" by means of a boyfriend - a boyfriend of family money and connections. it's a good thing though that he did drop me off that night; to stay with him would have meant putting out when my gut was saying no; it probably would have meant doing whatever he wanted whenever, where ever, and however he wanted. in other words, i would be an attention whore.

and a little secret let out of the bag. though i've had no real reason to keep it, except it is in this day and age with all that we know and all that we're taught in school it's a bit unthinkable, though it was not my fault, i guess it fits here. he came to my house once, after i met up with him while he was interviewing downtown. he spent the night. this was after the previous night so it wasn't an absolutely brand new experience. there was only one forro. things began slowly so he took it off, threw it on the floor; continued his course. which was the cause earlier this school year for my irregular pap smear. perhaps that is the issue.

that's how much it must've meant...

driving up Lake Shore Drive with Lizsa, we were both witnesses to the following conversation yesterday.

Lizsa: says goodbye to Scott1 on the phone. Yeah that was Scott1. ... (sorry lizsa if i mix a few things up; poetic license) i slept with him in october. god, that was the last time i had sex.

Miss E: yeah me too. no wait, september. maybe even august was the last time for me.

miss e continues driving a few blocks, a pensive look on her face.

Miss E: oh wait, duh, when i was in argentina. december then. (again, if you've already been with the person, a reencounter DOESN'T COUNT!)


Airfare: more than i'd like to admit. Room and Board: ~$300. Realizing that people stop seeing each other for a reason: priceless

hey nice shirt/pourquoi est-ce qu'on utilise un bidet?/reunidos!

pour se laver les pieds, of course!

with the summer heat and new shoes i was constantly asking myself this question and responding in the same manner as the above. who knows what kind of crap lies on the sidewalks of the streets and the subway of buenos aires? so, with new shoes creating blisters every time i go out i utilised the bidet quite often. i would come in off the street, wash my hands, then fill the bidet and wash my feet.

quite inventive, no? and yes i know that's not the real use for a bidet but it was either that or lifting my feet up to the sink and i didn't have the patience for that after a day of walking around on injured feet.

*************
nice shirt, right? it was my xmas gift to him (my brother.) don't i have a good eye? it fit him perfectly. as we were leaving the bar of friday night's infamous reencounter, steeeevoooo had just re-entered (to save his friend from going home with "a girl he just met" and all that hand-wavey brainwash crap) and he said, "hey, nice shirt!" i jumped up in the air all giddy and said YESSSS!!!!!!!! i brought that to him from argentina, doesn't it fit perfectly???!

then he says, like a glove.

david d and i look at each other and bust out laughing. steeevooo wonders what's going on, we explain the inside joke:

well i have this one friend, alex, and he got something like a frisbee stuck on the roof of his house and he used this thing to get it down and when he got it down he said, "like a glove," but it didn't make any sense!

*************
a while ago for some reason all my CDs disappeared. i have not been able to find them since. so, with each trip to south america i replace some and add some more to my small collection.

aah this time around i have been reunited with my favorite song almost ever. it's called completo incompleto by jarabe de palo. and i had also forgotten the one before it, which is also excellent, until i heard the lyrics:
...
pasion y ley
dificil mezcla;
agua y sed
serio problema

cuando uno tiene sed
pero el agua no esta cerca
cuando uno quiere beber
pero el agua no esta cerca

como quieres ser mi amiga
cuando esta carta recibas
un mensaje hay entre lineas
(bla bla bla because i forgot)

so why are 9 and 10 always the best tracks on the CD?

the lyrics to my favorite song will have to be searched for by the reader should s/he be so inclined.

**********
my mom: yeah chris and amanda saw the ultrasound yesterday.
me: is that the lady with manhands?
my mom: why do you always say that?
me: because! i look at people's hands and hers are especially un-feminine.
mrs. s: what about my hands?
me: well i've never looked at your hands but they must be fine because otherwise i would have noticed.

for real though, she DOES have man hands. they're huge!

oh yeah i remember

what i was going to write about: "being a piece of meat"

in bsas it always amused me to go into kilkenny, an irish pub where all the shady argentine bastards go to pick up foreigners, and have at least one guy touch me (my waist, my hand, my arm, my shoulder) for every step i took. other girls from my school were disgusted by it, or at least, made uncomfortable.

but i guess the experiences with the polo players really defined "being a piece of meat" for me.

after a certain number of times hanging out with them, i began to feel like the "regalito" brought along for the friend of la francesa's friend. for example, the night i met "snore" (they call him el ronco b/c of his voice; for me his speech is nearly unintelligible because it's like he talks through his nose) la francesa told him at the last minute, so he's like, ok i'll call a friend.

for some reason we ended up taking two cars to our next stop. so to be polite so he wouldn't have to ride alone i rode with the friend. not two minutes pass and he's already got his hand on my thigh. which is ignored by me.

then we're (ie, all four of us) at this guys house. the friend is sitting next to me and touching my back and shoulders. asking me no me vas a dar un beso? and then he touches my foot and says, i like your feet. i say, why? there has to be a reason why! and he says, they're sexy. (which i know is bullshit b/c that is probably the first word that came out of his mouth.) then i ask him, ok then, what's my name? he answered correctly. but the point of the story is that i felt like the friends of la francesa's friends were only taking an interest in me because i was there; they would have acted that way with anyone else she might have brought along. finally i was able to put that into words. the whole time i could see from outside how i would have acted if this were happening in 2002 - i would have fallen hard and been upset about not exchanging numbers. this time around i counted it as a victory.

anyway now i am ready to drop off to sleep.

but alas, nobody had a pen!

yesterday at my yoga class, the instructor told us that tension was just energy stored up in specific parts of the body that needs to be released.

so if i can feel the seeds of a headache growing within my head, i hope writing will release that energy. could it possibly happen? maybe if i don't think about it so much.

there are a bunch of things that have crossed my mind this evening.

first that i recall is this; driving back from an evening downtown i felt like i was in buenos aires again. of course, not because of anything i was doing at the time; i was headed home at 0:30 whereas in buenos aires, at this time i'd be having my cortadito and discussing which bar we would be headed to. then two or three hours later i'd be discussing which club we were going to. those were the freakin' days! i felt reminded of BsAs because of the humdity, and because we were driving along a certain strech of road that passed right next to a certain great lake. with the windows open i felt the humidity on my face (where the water molecules feel more like miniscule drops of oil sticking to your face like iron filings stick to a magnet), i could see a very very slight layer of fog, and then the flatness of the lake all the way to the horizon. it reminded me of the river. the delta to be sort of exact. there was this club we went to, i believe it has others all over the world (pacha) - we would go there a bit but it got tired after a while - i don't think we were ever going on the right night. i just remember it had a patio, and when the club scene got too much i would go out there and meet up with my friends, maybe join lauren as she smokes.

i miss it, but i don't. since he has been home and the second college graduate of the offspring of my parents (and as it looks now, the last), my brother has been talking endlessly of how he misses college; how he misses being able to drink beer at your apartment, then walk to another apartment and drink some more, etc. he constantly talks of going back down to his university to visit.

i do not feel the same way. once i got done with my university, i was done with it and had no intention of going back to party. of course you can't count the spring semester of 2004 - i was seeing The Ex every other weekend. but we'd mostly stay in or go to parties in obscure corners of FreakTown (as opposed to FratTown - my fellow alums and anyone else familiar with my state's public universities will know instantly of which two cities i am talking). i feel like this is because my college party year was spent in buenos aires - an excellent party city. subway runs until 22:30, after that the buses run 24 hrs a day, and taxis do as well and are always cheap (at least for people with euros). imagine a 21-year old who never really drank let loose in a city where the afterparties start at 11 the next morning! so so so many great times. but i miss them and then i don't. i feel like those crazy nights (for now anyway) are over, but i don't miss them - one can only have too many nights when your night ends with breakfast - right? i guess like everything nights like that should be had only in moderation.

what i do miss though is my favorite bar ever, milion. it's in this huge old mansion. and there is a garden, and a patio. it's amazing in the summertime. the clubs i could care less for - mostly they're the same bunch of boludos asking me to dame un beso! que lindos ojos... etc etc and etc. also large crowds of people in confined spaces in foreign countries where i'm not familiar with the healthcare system make me kind of nervous. so i guess what i miss is the ease of travel (which can be regained if i move to a city) and all the neat little bars and boutiques one can visit any given night or day.

ok screeching topic change.

one thing that drives me crazy in a good way is when a guy can't keep his eyes off me. i know that sounds totally artificial, scripted, unorigional, and egocentric, but it's true!

what made me think of this: last weekend i went out with my brother and his friends. a friend of his, we'll call him hussain, got a job in AZ and was back in town visiting. so a bunch of us got together. one guy i managed to convince to hang out with us was chip, who is friends with jimmy, who in turn is friends with hussain. of course, everyone is friends but i hadn't seen either chip or jimmy since chip fell from the graces of my family when he messed around with my sister (the blonde one - not the one who has alcohol-related issues). it's a bit convoluted and i don't remember exactly what happened on my sister's side, but what i understand to have happened is this: chip and i had spent a whole summer hanging out maybe up to four times a week. i was not working because i would be leaving for Buenos Aires at the end of july. from what i've heard from my sister's boyfriend, chip had liked me; i, airhead that i was, was only thinking of MP and my impending trip. i never even consiered anything more with chip, although i did like the attention and intelligent conversation (also i like a good snob with whom to make jokes about double-wides.) - not that he is unattractive, just that it had never crossed my mind. well, i guess that shortly after i left he and my sister had a little fling. they didn't sleep together but he made her order the morning-after pill online and take it, even though it was unnecessary. and why i think he fell from grace is because he was an asshole about it - he didn't call her after to check up on her (sometimes these meds make a girl sick) and was just an ass. of course he never did anything to me. never even TRIED so in the little universe that exists between me and him, he gets kudos for that. plus hearing that he'd had a crush on me has given me a little sense of power.

last friday night, chip was making up lame excuses not to come out with us. i told hussain, let me talk to him. he'll come... and of course he did. and he couldn't take his eyes off me. i just love that - when you can see him staring at you in your peripheral vision. i'd like to call him sometime to hang out - as friends only because he obviously isn't as trustworthy as he appeared to my sister. plus i'll admit it, i like being manipulative. of course i'd never take it too far. i love feeling like if i wanted to, i could have him wrapped around my little finger. NOTE: that is only if i WANTED to, which i don't, so technically i can't be accused of being a player. and i don't feel so strongly that i have to "get him back" for what he did to my sister - that is between them. besides, i like joking with him about illiterate leaders of countries and snaggletooth trailer trash (the thinly-veiled snob side of me needs a snob outlet you know.)

i've been very arguey lately. tonight i told alfie por eso nunca podriamos salir - estariamos discutiendo algo todo el tiempo. and he answers in english well that's because you think you're smarter than me. to which i didn't have a comeback. fortunately he took care of it for me by saying something that didn't make sense. he said, but I keep my mouth shut. i asked him to draw me a picture of this thought so i could understand it but alas, nobody had a pen.