Pocket Change...

"The key to change... is to let go of fear."

We have heard it said many times that the only certainties in life are death and taxes. And change. Regardless of how hard we fight for things to always stay the same, change is inevitable, and truth is, 9 times out of 10 the change is better than anything we were trying to hold on to. So is this a brilliant epiphany? Or simply a realization of something I really knew all along and just chose to ignore?

The first example I would like to draw on is my thesis. At the start of semester three of working on what is to be the culmination of two years of diligent studying to obtain a Master's degree, my thesis lector told me straight out: This is crap. You need to reorganize it or else it doesn't make sense. (Ok, ok, clarification: he didn't actually say the word 'crap' but he did tell me it was very badly organized and didn't follow logically). I was... overwhelmed. How was I going to reorganize a work of over 100 pages in just a short couple of weeks to be able to turn it in for its first final revision? I complained, I was stressed, I drank an incredible amount of coffee, and the I complained some more, and at the end of those two weeks, my thesis turned out ten times better than it ever was before the change.

Change is always scary. But it is very seldom bad.

I have realized this now because recently in my life there have been many changes. And I tried so hard to avoid them that I lost sight of... everything. And especially, of who I was. Just months after moving to Costa Rica I met who would become my best friend. At first the friendship was normal, we played basketball, watched sports, he invited me for lunch with his family or to watch movies. But somewhere along the line the friendship took a turn towards unhealthy, and one day it left me completely devastated and him completely undeserving and unappreciative of me.

How it reached this point is still a mystery to be, but it became an obsession. As a friend I trusted, he somehow managed to take control of every aspect of my life. Who I was with, where I went, when I saw him. At his asking, I would change anything I had already planned just to spend the day, again, with him. I was obsessed with making him happy and he was obsessed with controlling me and lying. Looking back now, I knew all along they were lies, but I chose to blind myself to them so that things would not change. I had my perfect little family in Costa Rica. Los cuatro fantasticos. Every Sunday we would watch the NFL, throw the football, spend hours together. And accepting the reality of what was happening would have changed all that. I would have been left watching football alone on Sundays, no one to throw the ball to, no one to make me laugh until I snorted or to hit when they said something ridiculously stupid. I was so afraid of how lonely my life would be without them that I ignored all the signs and continued forward naively down a path I knew could only lead to tremendous pain.

Of course the inevitable happened and there was really only one path left to take: end any remote spark of a friendship that had once been and... accept the change. And what has happened in my life since making that decision is so much better than what I had before. I met someone so much more worth my time, someone I never gave an honest chance to before because of my unfounded obsession. After months of severing all contact, I have finally overcome the chains he had me under and we have started again, because at one point the friendship was too beautiful to destroy. And I am happy. Uncontrollably happy. I wake up smiling and I go to bed thanking the Lord for the change that I was too scared to embrace.

Honestly, I am a very private person. Very few people, if any, know exactly what happened and I like it that way. Its easier to forget it. And I'm independent. But not in the good way. I don't ask for help, ever, and if I had, none of this would have happened. But we live, and we learn, and as long as we learn not to make the same mistake twice, we'll come out triumphant and in the end we'll be better because it all.

~para mi Rolito, gracias por hacerme tan feliz.

Dear America...

Dear America,

STOP TRYING TO PLEASE EVERYONE AND STAND UP FOR YOURSELVES.

Sincerely,

A-soon-to-be concerned citizen.

This morning, while wasting time because I was unable to sleep, I read something that at first made me roll my eyes, and then made me wonder why the US doesn't realize that 1. they are the laughing stock of the world at the moment and 2. they are setting themselves up to be destroyed as a country. What was it you may ask? The headline: Spat errups on 'The View'. The picture, which caught my attention was of Bill O'Reilly and the older redheaded View hostess... My first thought was "oh great, now what did O'Reilly say?" But after reading the article I have to say, I agree with him. Yes, we all love to hate O'Reilly, but he is one of the few public figures that could give a sh*$ about being politically correct, an American concept that will lead to its demise as a world power, and later as a nation.

The topic turned to the Mosque that is planned for Ground Zero and when asked why he was against it, Bill replied "Because they killed us on 9/11". Was he wrong? Was it another extremist religion that flew two gigantic feul-filled airplanes into the World Trade Center buildings at the busiest time of the morning when the most people would be killed? If I'm wrong, please correct me. Here in lies the problem: America wants so badly to make everyone happy that they are willing to "re-write" history so that it doesn't make any one side look bad. Instead of being Muslim extremists, now they are just "extremists" as Whoopi put it, so as not to point a figure. I really wouldn't be surprised if one day someone were to actually say: well, we sort of deserved it.

Let me clarify that yes America protects the right to practice any religion, and I am NOT in ANYWAY saying Muslims do not have the right to build a Mosque. I might not agree with their beliefs, but according to the Constitution they have as much right to be there as us Christians do, what I DO NOT agree with is the slap in the face that building a Mosque right at Ground Zero will give to all the families who lost loved one's that day. How fair is that? Why will someone not stand up and say: by all means, build your Mosque, but go build it somewhere else. The AMERICANS who lost their lives that day deserve more respect than to be remembered by a building being built for the very extremists that killed them that day. And that is what happened: 9/11 was the mass murder of more than 3000 unsuspecting, innocent individuals simply because the Muslim extremists did not, do not, BELIEVE in the politics of our United States.

America, instead of cowarding behind words of BS political correctness, stand up for yourselves. No one deserves the beating that America took on the 11th of September, regardless of what they stand for. Don't remember those innocently killed by erecting a place of worship to the very people who pray for the fall of this great country.

Yes, I am criticizing. And yes, this may offend some of you. I am not apologizing for anything I've said. I am taking a stand for the country I want to live in for the rest of my life, because if someone doesn't do it, this country will cease to exist in its entirety.

Original article: http://social.entertainment.msn.com/tv/blogs/tv-buzz-blog.aspx?blog=1746&feat=1b4206e4-4fc8-4e99-a8e8-5dc25c71c760&GT1=28103

Home is what the heart grows accustomed to...

This afternoon I asked myself the question, How the hell do I leave? My flight "home" to California is in exactly 3 months from today. 3 months. Thats just 91 days; 5400 hours. That's just a season, like Spring or Summer; a quarter of a year; only 3 new moons. How do I give this up?

I've tasted independence, adulthood. I've grown a love for this country that I have never experienced anywhere before. And even if I complain daily about the black soot clouds rising from the back of cars that should have been yanked off the road decades ago, there is a charm to Costa Rica that is hard to beat. Where else will I find the warm friendliness that surrounds me in any tico home I may enter? Where else will I become part of a new family, accepted equally by grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, nephrews?

How do I pack up the life I have build in the past two years?

But what makes this life any different? Why is this one so hard to give up?

I remember crying the first time I left Costa Rica in 2007. I cried so hard as the plane took off that the woman beside me asked if I was having a panic attack. I cried so hard my eyes were still red as I walked off the plane at LAX. And that was only after a stay of 5 months. I promised I would come back, and I did. Can I promise the same thing again?

Sitting here now, thinking about the day I'll get on the plane with an 'indefinite goodbye' drying on my lips, my eyes well up. This is my home. This is where my heart is.

A country with the longest lasting tradition of peace and that for centuries hasn't had or needed a military. A country of unprecedented scenic beauty in its mountains and beaches, volcanos and waterfalls. A country with potholes so big an entire car can vanish from sight; where a 4 km drive by car can take up to 15 minutes by bus. A country that after 50 years of planning finally builds a decent highway from its capital city to the closest beach, but then opens only two lanes, when road traffic has more than doubled since the year they began planning. A country where an avocado can cost less than 20 cents and where mangos rot on the ground because people can't eat them fast enough. A country whose local football league plays worse than a pack of monkeys, but whose fans bleed purple, or red and yellow, or red and black. A country where instead of having a Starbucks on every street corner, there is a church... even if its Catholic. A country that wholeheartedly believes in God.

This is my home. And yet part of me is scared I might not even miss it.

Ode to the first 8 months of the year...

Wow, hello mid-September. Where the hell did you come from? Gone is August and the start of my fourth (and final) semester. Gone is month 1 of the last 5 months I will ever (possibly) spend at a university. Gone is month 2 of my new (and somewhat exciting) job of being an English teacher. Gone are the 7 looooooong months spent waiting for the new NFL season to begin. Gone is the first week of the 2010 season. Gone, again, is September 11, thankfully with no repeat of that terrible day that we all no doubt remember like it was yesterday. And gone, as well, is the 12th, 13th, and 14th (although, I really don't know of anything exciting that has happened previously on those days hehe).

September 15. In Costa Rica and I believe all of Central and some of South America today is Independence Day. As in the US, every store, house, car, post box, light post, etc. has the Costa Rican flag displayed from it. Families are getting together for lunch; everyone has the day off. There are parades during the day (there was even one at 5:30 this morning I believe. I did not see it, I was just awoken by the heavy beating of drums and wind instruments), fireworks at night, food as far as the eye can see. I suppose every country celebrates their independence in a similar manner. And today is gorgeous. The sky is a blue I haven't seen since the rainy season began 6 months ago, the clouds are white and puffy and not gray and menacing (although I don't know how long that will last for). Sitting in my room, I hear my neighbour's music. Everything just seems different today. Uplifing. The world, or at least Costa Rica, is happy.

In other news, I have a date for the final presentation and defense of my thesis: November 11. Just less than 2 months away now. Have a set date makes the time between now and then seem waaaaay less though. When I think about what I still have to do: present the first final draft to my tutor, make the corrections he suggests, turn in a second draft, correct the translation yet again, turn in a final draft... and then, I present and have two weeks to again make corrections before turning in the final final draft. All of that before the end of November. And just in case you think there can't be that many corrections: my translation is 85 pages and my analysis close to 100. Of course maybe I did everything right the first time around... ha, wishful thinking.

Thankfully, the other 3 classes I have are very non-demanding this semester, so I can focus more of my time on making sure my thesis is 100%. And of course it gives me the extra time to work without going out of my mind. I'm enjoying teaching, all except 1 course that is. Adolecents aren't the greatest age, and with my utter lack of patience, we don't get along all that well. I think we've come to a mutual agreement: you talk your junk in English and I won't hassle you; lets just get through the next hour and a half and we'll all be happier for it. All of my classes are a different levels of English, which is somewhat a challenge. Its hard to go from one class with which I can speak perfect English and a normal pace, to having to explain everything in very short sentences and even Spanish, to once again being able to speak semi-normal English with very little or next to nothing of Spanish and then the next day having pure pure beginning where everything little topic is a challenge to get across, for example the verb To Be (I am, you are, he is etc.) and then to complicate matters even more, making QUESTIONS with the verb to be! (am I, are you, is he?). Just when they finally understand to use 'are' with 'you' they get the question where ___ your pencil? and suddently it isn't 'are' but 'is'. Ask me to explain THAT difference! Its fun though, as I have to start thinking about all the rules for English grammar that I have taken for granted since I was, well, born. Its fun though, and I really don't think I could have picked a better part time job while I was here...

MTV: the bane of my existance

Remember when MTV actually COULD call itself "Music TV"? I remember back in 1999 right after moving to the US and finally getting cable, Mom picked us up from school and was telling us all about the different channels and I distinctly remember her saying: "and there's this one channel that only plays music all day." Those were the days.

Soon MTV got the Reality TV bug and from there it was only down hill. Here are a list of some of the worst Reality TV shows known to date on the MTV channel.

1. Laguna Beach. Yes, I agree it was entertaining and for a while I tuned in every week to watch the next episode. But seriuosly, could high schoolers really ACT real when they were followed around my cameras every day? Besides the fakeness of the show, I honestly think Laguna Beach had something to do with the demise of the American youth. Everyone wanted to act like the popular group out there in Orange County.

2. Next. Honestly, how are there so many retarded people in America? Per capita the US definitely has their fair share of idiots, and all of them somehow manage to find their way onto the Next show. And what is with the lines at the end of each show? I mean really??? Who writes this junk? The cockiness is over-exaggerated, and the fakeness has been taken to a new level. My suggestion: the script should be burned, and the participants shot for even considering to go along with the stupidity. Anything for their 10 minutes of fame.

3. ALL the finding-love-on-MTV shows. A Shot at Love. I Love Money. The list goes on. Finding love on MTV is basically searching through America's rejects.

4. South Park. On Wednesday I was shocked to hear two boys in my English class mimicking the South Park characters. They were 9 and 11. There is no hope for the future of this nation when 9 and 11 year olds look up to South Park, repeat (word for word) the episodes and try to act just as the annoying little characters do.

5. Parental Control. I admit its a clever idea: I'm sure many parents would like the opportunity to choose who there children date, and then they ruined it with the scripting. Number one qualification to work as a script writer on MTV: Bachelor's degree in the worst come back lines known to man. "Uh, whatever" went out about a gazillion years ago, people! The teens think they are so bloodly smart but all I hear when I watch the show is "blah blah blah I am not a man, blah blah blah." And honestly, if any kid talks to me like they talk to the adults on that show, I wouldn't simply have a shocked look on my face... they'd have a shockinly red handprint on their left cheek. Just watching the show makes me want to throw something at the TV. Won't someome please tell these imbecils that they are 1. not funny and 2. in no way clever with their comebacks.

6. The Real World. All I have to say is that they have redefined the word 'real'. Its sad how there really are no wholesome young people left in America.

7. Whatever retarded Jessica Simpson show is on now. As if we didn't get enough of her lack-of-cerebral-matter on Newlyweds and the other 12 shows she has tried (and failed) at. Her lack of respect for foreign countries and their cultures in her new program is sickening. Not everyone is cut out to be an entertainer. She should have been told that no one likes her years ago.

8. My Super Sweet 16. This show really only deserves two words: Spoiled. Brats.

The list can go on, of course. Every 30 minute block on the channel is filled by a program that deserves to be put on this list. Maybe we should just do away with the entire channel and replace it with a wholesome educational channel that will teach America (and all the other countries poisened by MTV) that being cool does NOT mean trying out for a MTV Reality TV show.

Hello, Gorgeous...

The sun is here! The sun is here! A full 8 days after my dreadfully late arrival to Costa Rica the sun has finally shone (hehe, how clever) its beautiful face. After 8 long days of bitterness and restlessness I was finally able see blue sky, put on a summer dress, and spend a few hours soaking up the sun in Central Park. I can without a doubt say that every soul I know here is just as thrilled as I am for the sun to have come out, just for a different reason of course (I've been told I'm not the easiest person to be around when I'm in a foul mood hehe). My mood has lifted! My gloomy mood brought on by day after day of dark rain-soaked clouds has blown away with those same clouds and I'm smiling, and even hummed to myself as I sat in line at the bank waiting to pay the rent.

Dreading the thought in the morning of opening the curtains and seeing, once again, the rain, I slept in until 9. Less conscious daylight hours meant less hours of gloomyness. When I checked my phone however, I had received a message at 7 am: ...salga, esta haciendo un sol increible! (Go outside, the sun is incredible!) My first thought was "why the hell would I be up at 7 am, let alone ready to go outside?" but then I thought, "maybe the sun is still there!?!" I opened the front door and low and behold, the spiral stairs leading down to the first floor were bathed in yellow light and the potted plants outside my door had cast shaddows across the veranda. I immediately grabbed my cup of joe and sat, pijamas and all, on the steps, soaking up the glorious warmth.

It wasn't enough for me though and I quickly showered, cleaned the bathroom, swept the floors, and ran my errands at the bank, and then walked over to Central Park, found an empty bench and read in the sun for the next hour and a half. Glorious, glorious sun!

Along with the first day in over two weeks that I have seen the sun, yesterday I was given a bouquet of seven gorgeous yellow sunflowers, my favourite flower. There is just something about them that makes me smile. Between the two, how in the world can I be having a bad day?

Now the clouds have returned, something I had expected since the moment I first saw the sun today (there is no getting around the tropical rainy season climate), but I'm happy. My spirits have lifted and I'm ready to tackle another day of teaching Intro English.

Sunless days, sleepless nights...

The clock has just ticket 2 a.m. and I am as wide awake as if it were 2 p.m. This is night two of my insomnia. Yesterday I spent it watching pointless episodes of any comedy I could find on t.v. between 1 and 3 a.m. Today I've spent it on Facebook and once that got boring since there are no status updates at this normal hour of sleeping, I have moved on. To here. Maybe extracting my thoughts on this here blog, will clear my mind for what I really need it at this moment... blissful sleep...

After a very, nay, too short vacation to California I am back in Costa Rica, ready, yet not eager, to begin semester 4 of 4. My 10 day trip to CA consisted in not much else than laying around reading. The sun, regardless of what they say about 'sunny CA' was not out for about 7 of my 10 day stay and, just my luck, it hasn't been out in Costa Rica either since my arrival on Sunday. The gloomy days have definitely not brightened my spirits. Speaking of arriving... the good ol' USA made my life miserable again. I've been trying to figure out what I've done in my life for Karma to have kicked me, again, while I'm down, but I haven't quite come up with anything good. My trip to immigration this time was extended beyond the usual checkpoint as Ms. Butch didn't believe I was the lovely face smiling back at her from my Green Card. Maybe I shouldn't blame her... it was 11 p.m. when I pulled up to her drive through window. After playing 20 questions she led me away to magic door number two where I had to sit and wait while Antonio Banderas and Jackie Chan talked about their big guns. After another fun game of "Avoid telling the whole truth to the immigration agents" I was given a pass to rejoin the milling masses eagerly awaiting to see if the airline managed to screw up the baggage. I'm not bitter. The best part of my trip however, was by far the uber-cute flight attendant who, seeing me staring longinly at the conveyer belt pleading for my bag to come around, fed me the line "You have gorgeous eyes, don't ever cover them up." There is no sarcasm in that last line. I flew with TACA and I have to say, unless their tickets end up way more expensive than Priceline.com I'm picking them for all my Latin America to US travel. Direct from CR to CA, zero baggage fees, great flight attendants, extra legroom, free headphones and alcoholic beverages, and meals! whaaaaa??? ... all in economy class.

The second part of my trip was not without its 'fun' shall we say. My flight left LAX at 1:35 a.m., a time of the morning when I thought the airport would be empty. Guess again. An hour after joining the line, I managed to get to the check-in counter only to find out they had over booked my flight! I was offered a $600 voucher to fly the next day and, if it weren't the World Cup final I would be missing, I would have taken it. Instead I waited an extra 10 minutes for the computer to spit me out a seat number. Armed with my seat number and dangerously low on sleep, I make my way down the plane aisle, plop in my seat, and close my eyes. Ah sleep... wrong. TACA shows a movie and the t.v. screen just happened to be right above the seat in front of me. All movie long I had flashes of light penetrating my eyelids. When we were all finally woken up at 6 a.m. for breakfast I was about ready to use foul language on the very next person who spoke to me. But luckily... no joke here... it was another good looking flight attendant offering me a much needed cup of joe. Cafe Britt, Costa Rica's best coffee. Yum. We were an hour and a half outside of Costa Rica making a 'quick' pitstop in Guatemala to let people off and pick up others. A scheduled 4o minute stop though turned into a fun packed 3 hours of staring out the airport window at the menacing black cloulds and, no joke here, the only two airplanes that landed in the entire 3 hours I was there. Our plane had managed to catch itself a faulty landing gear somewhere thousands of miles above the earth and we had to wait while the genius mechanic stood looking at the plane and scratching his... uhh... head. My 9:35 a.m. arrival to Costa Rica turned out to be a 1 p.m. arrival when I no longer had a ride home, or made it back in time to catch the plans I had made for the World Cup. Nor did I even WANT to watch the damn game. I got home, threw myself onto the bed, and fell asleep to the sound of pouring rain.

I cried that day. I didn't want to be here. Maybe the exhaustion was part of it, but somehow I had managed to distance myself from everyone down here in the 10 days I was home, and when I arrived it just didn't FEEL right. I have fought with my best friend every day for the past week, and now lying here I can't help but wonder if being on bad terms with him isn't affecting my sleep.

I began teaching on Monday. I work evenings teaching English now to earn some extra cash and hopefully save up for a down payment on a car when I get back to CA. I was a little nervous my first day but after a few minutes of the first class I got into it. It helped, of course, that that class already had a pretty high level of English. At the end of the day, though, three classes down, I enjoyed it, which was a surprise for me. My bosses have graciously kept me away from children which I can only be thankful for. As the semester progresses, I'll reevaluate my skills as a teacher. A couple of weeks ago I was so worried I wouldn't even be able to explain the difference between a verb and a noun, but maybe I won't be that terribly bad. It helps, of course, that I speak Spanish.

I have two weeks until my classes at the University begin up again. So in the mean time I'm just taking it easy, sleeping until 10 (mainly because I'm up until 3), working every now and then on my thesis, and praying every day that today will be the day that the sun comes out and lights up my life.