back to the... homeland

here i am, arrived and kicking in the homeland. well kicking only after a big caffeine buzz. then i crash. on the floor. and to have my dad toeing me in the side, telling me i should go to bed. that's a lot of unwanted work, so i grunt, roll over and go back to sleep.

and wake up at 4:30 am. but that's life in a time zone 6 hours different to what my body is demanding. whew. good thing tomorrow is saturday. not that it makes any difference.

i think if i continue down this road it might soon be lacking coherence. so we'll wind her to a close and wait for inspiration to arrive, via video shown on the back of eyelids.

sun and clouds

i have to say, that flying above the clouds is one of the experiences i relish most. breaking through the clouds into perfect sunshine with a perfect expanse of white below is nothing short of breathtaking.

next wednesday i get to partake.

if I understand a little of what he is like...

Reading a friend's blog recently inspired me to do the same...



God is like the blue in the sky above the clouds, like water the first time drank, like the offered hand of a stranger that we feel we should know.
He gives concepts like paradoxes to put him in and aid understanding. He is always the same yet he suffers change of heart. He always was and is and will be, and was born then died.

God is like the summer's midday sun that doesn't relent.
He gives choice and then hounds into submission. He allows us fight him and sometimes we almost win. Then he shuts eyes, only to pry them back open. He demands much and is content with little. He demands all and doesn't stop until he has it. He doesn't force and holds with an open hand.

God is like a key that fits the door of a world we knew was there and kind of see but haven't yet figured out how to speak the language.
He is patient like the day is long. And sometimes in the long, dark night he is nowhere to be found. He doesn't leave nor forsake.

God is like perfection that isn't afraid to hold a child that has been playing in the dirt for a while.
He is faithful like gravity and even then he has been known to bend it. He is knows all and demands us to say it again.

He is like the eagle that gives up its wings so it can know what it is not to be able to soar.
He is a father whose children reject him.
He is a man whose wife is unfaithful.
He is open arms that never close, his voice never wavers, his heart never wanes.
He is love that cannot be summed up in all the love that was ever loved on this dirt planet. Except for the love of one who walked through life with open arms and then died with them in the same position.

God is like wind that blows. Arms can be open or they can be closed, but he will not be caught... and neither will he be outrun... in life or death.

stansted

i was in England for a brief period of time. three days to be exact. Friday Saturday and Sunday. well technically Sunday night as well. see our flight left at 7 am on Monday morning.

you do the math.

7 am flight. being international, must arrive 2 hours prior. estimated traveling time to airport, 1.5 hours. time to wake up and get things around and in the car, 15 minutes. so what time would the alarm need to go off?

if my math is correct (and i was an English major) it would be a 3:15 start. and who on this side of the planet would want to take someone to the airport at 3:15 in the morning, not to mention hitting London traffic on the way back.

thats a big no one. and the truth be told, i wasn't up for it either. so we went to the airport the night before. and we slept on the floor. on the cold, hard, dusty floor. all in all it wasn't the worst night i've passed. i think back to a night i spent in Madrid, waiting outside the bus station for a good 5 and a half hours. that was definately colder, harder and dustier. okay, so i didn't sleep loads but as long as you've got something to lay your head on...

which brings me to my main point. we weren't the only ones sleeping in the airport. i figured there would be a handful of other weary travelers and a couple of smart homeless guys. but truth be told again, there were MASSES of people. i am often a conservative guesser and but i reckon we were nearly touching 300 people. this is in lovely Stansted Airport by the way. if you don't know the size, well you can walk from one end to the other in about 10 minutes.

nothing personal against stansted actually. just its in the middle of nowhere, thats all. it faithfully serves the 70 people who live that side of london, which the other 3.5 million everywhere else are left with an eternal drive along Britain's busiest carpark. oh i mean road. oh i guess i didn't mention it. on the way, leaving the airport, we sat on that very road for 3 and some odd hours. bumper to bumper. who puts an airport at the end of a crowded road anyways?

but back to the airport, so people everywhere. hundreds of them. and what is more, some of them were professional airport sleepers. placing all joking to one side, we saw people on blow up matresses, with sleeping bags on top and about 4 pillows. who carries blow up mattresses, sleeping bags, and a 3 to 1 pillow to head ratio?!?!? obviously quite a few. and so to say its a sight i won't soon forget.

small airport, many people sleeping, or perhaps just trying to sleep. and a few, apparently smart souls snoring soundly away on their blow up mattresses in the middle of the Ryanair checkout line.

next time i'm going to Heathrow.

z z z

i've realized that the previous post was nothing more than an attempt at making myself tired so i would want to go to bed. occasionally i suffer this phenomenon where, tired or not tired, i don't want to go to bed. so i prolong the inevitable, doing meaningless tasks that have no eternal purpose, or even momentary for that matter. funnily, in the morning i always feel the opposite and ask myself what the heck was i thinking and why would anyone put off going to sleep?

i think it's connected with an subconcious fear of laying in bed for an hour, wide awake, not being able to sleep. but really, wide awake and not being able to sleep aren't that different.

obsessive compulsive paranoia comes to mind.

there's got a be a picture or at least something... anything!

nearly every time i sit down i don't know what i'm about to put down. i think it's what keeps this thing going.

but then sometimes i sit down and i just stare at the screen. or i type a sentence and delete it. retype a sentence and redelete it. till i either give up or go down a completely different line.

then there are the instances like what is happening right now. instead of giving up, i am just going to post what i've got down.

proverbs

a few i've stumbled upon.

I
he who lets offenses pass by,
creates ties of love;
he who does not, alienates his friends.

II
even idiots can pass for wise and intelligent
when they shut up and keep silent.

III
the fool has no desire to learn;
only the desire to flaunt what he already knows.

III
it's stupid and shameful
to respond before listening.

IV
what is at first easy to acquire,
in the end doesn't bring much happiness.

further spacing and a scorpion

the other day i stumbled upon a scorpion. yes a real live scorpion and it was carrying the body of a cockroach (previously mentioned) off somewhere... to eat it? (i dunno if they are carnivores or not.) but anyways it was my first experience with a scorpion in a live, anything goes environment. after a brief moment of incredulity, then a rush of adrenaline, and at last a brief panic attack, i analyzed the situation...

1- i am bigger than him.
2- i am faster than him.
3- i am stronger than him.
however,
4- i don't have a tail that i can jab into things leaving a poisonous trail.
but,
5- i do have shoes that i can use to squash his little jabby tail.
that being said,
6- i have nothing against the guy.
7- i hope he has nothing against me, other than the murderous thoughts i am thinking.
8- all he is trying to do is take some supper home to his scorpion children.
9- how would i feel if someone were to squash me while i was trying to feed my children? (not that i have children, but when i do...)
however,
10- my children will not be born with a tail with which they use to kill things.
11- it's not his kids' fault though that they do.
sidenote: i wonder if he used his tail to kill the cockroach? if that were the case than it would be a point in favor of the venomous tail. a small point, but a point.
moving on...
12- he hasn't cornered me.
13- i haven't cornered him.
14- there is nearly always a non-bloody solution if both sides are willing to work towards it.
15- we are 5 miles away from my house so it is highly unlikely that he will hunt me down tonight, come in through my open window, and stab me to death while I sleep, just for taking so long to decide how to maneuver this situation.

so we both went our separate ways. he to his home to feed the cockroach to his children, and me to my home to ponder how i would like to be treated if i had an awkward tail that instilled fear in 89 percent of gringos...

spacing

this is really just a post to get that ugly thing a bit further down the page so it's not the first thing one sees. that being said I'm going to have to write a bit more than this to move it along.

so an update ensues.

I've got short hair and no new teeth paranoia's. i am currently listening to my new Snow Patrol cd which I bought on iTunes. it's dang good. i haven't put on much weight I don't think, but then again, I don't feel as skinny as I used to. maybe that's cause it's been two weeks since anyone has made a comment. that's a pretty long time. cherries are in season in Spain. for those who don't know, Spain has the best cherries in the world. i currently have the pit of one in my mouth. I'm not chewing it cause they are pretty hard, but rather I've just got it there between my teeth and my cheek. it's like a comfort thing. june's a hot month. july and august are hotter but we aren't there yet. gets to be like 95 around here pretty easily. by the end its regular triple digits.

what else is new? well i am gonna be home for about 6 weeks in july and august. that's not new but it is coming up.

well I'm gonna leave it at that for now. i could think of more stuff to say but that would involve thinking for certain periods of time. what was written above came up spontaneously, and i feel like i might ruin the post to actually ponder what write. a pondered post deserves its own space.

la cucaracha

not to be gross or anything, but tonight we had a cockroach killing. now before you go all crazy and start saving their fur, let me just say they are pests. they are ugly, foul, with hairy legs, wings, and crunchy little bodies the color of... well why not just have a glance at the pic?
there is a drain outside of the house. at about 10 something at night Az made a trip out to the garbage bin to drop some stuff there. a few minutes later he runs up to the window motioning for me to come out. something about make sure you put some shoes on...
coming out of the drain of the house was nothing less than an army of roaches. big ones, little ones and all sorts of crunchy, dirty sizes in between. our neighbor had taken to spraying half a bottle of insecticide down the hole. what ensued could only be described as a massacre.
when it was all said and done we had taken the lives of between 150 and 200 of the suckers without suffering a single casualty ourselves. Az took one in the hair. I had a couple bounce off my arm, and Abby, well Abby didn't stick around too long. Az and the neighbor were dancing like lunatics, squashing the life out with the bottoms of their shoes while I was using a lethal right arm, armed with a flyswatter, to pick them off the walls. the downer with the flyswatter was that they occasionally bounced the little buggers back at you. and let me just say that they aren't easy to kill. more than one swat was often needed.

well after a good 20 minutes, no joke, they weren't coming out so fast. so we taped up the drain, finished off a few stragglers and swept the corpses into a pile on the road. all the while listening to the scratchings of few late comers trying to escape the now taped up drain. there was no sympathy floating about...

maybe the city will get those fumigators out here finally...

why not a random picture? i'm having trouble sleeping.

it's june now and time stops for no one.

i figure that sums up the recent blogging activity.

i'd like to express myself here. i'd like to explain what is new and where my life is headed. but. but it seems like the ink is dried up. that or someone has turned my pen upsidedown and the force of gravity is no longer drawing out the words. so either i need to get one of those pressurized pens or somehow get the pen back to rightsideup so gravity can do it's thing. maybe i'll opt for the second since pressurized things have the tendency of exploding on white shirts.

on the way to weddings in an elevator.

it's my screensaver right now. i thought i'd share.

plane tales

white lines in the sky speak
of places far away
and full of unknown.

they appear in the horizon
moving slowly but swiftly
over our piece of earth.

then slowly but swiftly
they dissipate back
into unbroken blue expanse.

leaving for only a short time
wisps of cloud that speak
of someone else's life.

resaca

i think i've had a posting hangover from all the Bolivia postings. after a barrage of information and pictures, there has been a noticable lack of material being uploaded. to make up for it i have put a picture behind the title. it's nice but by stretching the picture to fit the frame it really distorted the houses. the jury is out on the verdict still. i'm not asking for opinions on this, just saying that i might change it later.

but while it's there, take solace in the fact that i have made up for the lack of recent material by placing a nifty picture behind the title...

storytime

Due to demand, a photo is being posted. And no, your eyes aren't decieving you, there is a butterfly resting on my straw hat.

the Wizard of Oz

Several weeks ago I was asked to participate in a book fair. No, they didn't ask me to do a book signing or anything illustrious like that. Rather they asked me to read a story from my country to a bunch of elementary schoolchildren. In Spanish of course.

You don't know how hard it is to find a story that finds its roots in the US and amongst the classics as well. To start off with, most of the classics have been around for at least several hundred years. They are told down through the generations and become famous. Well the US hasn't been around that long. Nearly every story that came to my head find it's birthplace in either Scandinavia, Germany, France or England. The obscure eastern European countries seem to publish quite a few too. That all that made things difficult.

In the end, the only story I could find decently translated online or in the library here in Badajoz was, the Wizard of OZ. Okay, so I found more than that, but it had to be at least 25 minutes long. That got rid of most and left me with an American Classic I have never previously seen or read... Though I had heard of it!

So the previous two weeks were spent practicing reading to myself, alone in my room. Az or Abby would comment about hearing monk-like chanting coming from my part of the house. Also during those two weeks, I stumbled upon a costume and thought, wow, what a great way to keep the kid's attention. So a scarecrow I became. Unfortunately it was a woman scarecrow, with a fake butterfly sewn onto the hat, and plastic bags cut into strips to look like straw. Woman or not, in the end it passed.

Well the big morning arrived. Costume in the backpack and made my way down to the plaza. At 11 o'clock sharp a group of schoolkids showed up. And if I am allowed to say so myself, they were darn impressed with the wierd guy dressed up as a woman scarecrow speaking a mixture of Spanish and English at them. (The English was just to keep their interest.) Half an hour later I finished the story with Dorothy back home in Kansas, myself completely drenched in sweat, and most of the niños paying me absolutely no attention.

What can I say? 25 minutes is a long time to make some poor little seven year olds sit and listen to a story that maybe went a bit over their heads. But hey, it was an experience.

Oh yeah, when I finished I was asked to immediately repeat it. Whoever was supposed to tell the story during the half hour slot following mine, didn't show up. What the heck. "Once upon a time in a grey field in Kansas..."

Maybe one day I'll get around to watching the real thing...

I didn't take it but my friend did. Note the straightness of the pole. It is from Bolivia and is a good picture to finish that up with... for now.

At first exciting and slightly prone to showing off.
Taken home and laced up carefully,
they do not seem to fit right.
It is a generic mold with little character
that is only taken care of with a little
time and use.

Slowly the gleam is traded for comfort,
and the shine is replaced with wear.
Scuffs mark the corners,
the leather cracks and the soul wears.
The smell of the master takes hold,
while time and weather make their mark.
Character however only increases.
They become dependable and useful,
serving many purposes,
walking many miles.
Heat and cold, wind, rain and sand,
till their day comes.

And they are set aside.
For they are temporary,
a short season and their time is up.
No longer will they travel,
no longer will they walk.
They are difficult to give up,
the memories and journeys have been many.
But they have served their master well.
All good things in this life,
along with that which is not,
are brought to an end...

So the next can begin.