Christmas has been over, as of right now, for an hour and ten minutes. Christmas, in my world, has always been a very present filled day. Yes, you're probably thinking, "Duh. It's Christmas!" Well, I've come to notice that my family is especially fortunate. For some reason, under our tree, we have a bajillion presents. I've looked and asked around and noticed a difference with the weight of gifts. That's great. I like things... But really, the thing I love most about Christmas, is giving gifts. I usually make the things I give to people, too. Jaten and I spent some good times on my bed painting 4 paintings for my parents. They're beautiful! For my brothers, I made them a beer-pong table. Something they'll use the SHIT out of. For a few of my lady friends, I've crafted (or will now that I have their size) skirts. For a few of my guy friends, screen-printed t-shirts. A few odd end gifts here and there... But the gifts I was most excited to give were for my man.
We had a gift limit. I broke it. We were only allowed to do 3, and when I remembered this number, I knocked about 3 gifts OFF the list and sized it down to 4. However, I told him it was only 3. First, a 1950's style VINTAGE cardigan of the blue and green faith. Fits him like a charm. Second, a pair of hand crafted moccasins with a detail job fit for Pimp My Ride. "Yo, I heard you like shoes, so we made your shoes, Dawg!" Fourth, a three-piece painting set that resembles the jungle from the children's book, Where the Wild Things Are. He loves that book and is the only one to instantly understand what it was with no explanation. He's smart. Last, and CERTAINLY not least, I made him a Nimbus 2011. Our ban saw was broken, so I sculpted a 2x4 into a wiggly piece of wood using a lot of man. It is about 6 feet tall, dark brown, totally rideable, and incredibly awesome! I wish it were mine. He likes it too, which is really important. I'm actually quite proud of my work, really.
Now, let's talk about what I received for gifts. Clothes. And a lot of them! I LOVE IT! My mom, grandma, brothers, dad, and Jaten's mom (family?) all got me something long sleeved. I LOVE IT! I received some camping cooking ware, a car charger for my phone, a paperback-cover of The Hunger Games, and a few other really great gifts too. I like presents!
From my friends, I've received some of the most thoughtful gifts ever! Scott purchased me some cheese. I'm really excited about that. I hope it is not eaten by the time I get back. I'll be incredibly frustrated. Chelsea and Kristie got me a box of wine. YUM! I received a bottle of rum (DELIC), a memories collage (I LOVE IT!) and an incredibly comfortable, bright green, Zumies hoodie. Thank you, all, very much! I love you dearly.
From my boyfriend, who just happens to be the coolest, cutest, most best person EVER did this for me. The hour it turned to be Christmas Eve, he pulled me aside from a party we were attending and gave me a non-Xmas present. This caught me off guard, but I was ready enough to have a present to exchange. I opened mine first to find a beautiful, shiny-as-hell, silver ring. I put it on the ring that I've always wanted to put a ring on, regardless of the fact that it in no married us. The ring was followed by three words that have changed my life forever. I kissed him, and said it back. Then I gave him a painting (different from the WildThings painting) that said this, "I will catch you at the bottom." So fitting, because it means that I've fallen in love with him too.
Best Christmas ever? I think so.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Many moons ago, I met a boy. I've posted about him a few times on here, but no long details have gone into describing him. I'll take this time now to do so. His name is Jaten. His parents call him Jate, and most everyone else calls him Ja'en. I may be the only one that takes time to add the T between syllables. That T connects his beginning and his end. It is worth every quarter-of-a-second that it takes to use it.
He is LDS, as is his family. Most people ask how that works, him being LDS and gay. I respond, "They haven't made an episode of HOW IT IS MADE yet, so I don't really know the logistics of it, but just like threading a bobbin, it works every time." Keep in mind I've never actually said that, but I mean to. I usually say something stupid like, "The same way feathers catch air," or "With a proper amount of Mexican food, anything is possible." Honestly, him being LDS hasn't caused any problems. You would think that it might, but I respect his choice, just like choices made by my other friends, to be religious in his way. He served his LDS mission in Argentina and still dreams of living there. Because of his mission, he now speaks Spanish fluently, and often helps me with mine. He's encouraging me to keep at it so I too can be fluent. We like to have conversations in front of non-speakers just to prove how cool we are.
Jaten lives in Bluffdale, UT. That is awful. I hate it. While the town itself is actually very quaint, it is just so damned far away! I rarely get to see him. I know, twice a week is actually quite often, but it is not really ever enough. However, it is significantly better than him living on another continent completely. I really shouldn't complain about how little I get to see him, but some of my friends at school have the exact same class schedule as their significant other. That usually means I want to punch them. We've always said that if we lived even 20 minutes closer to one another, that we would probably be married by now and have 3 children. We're pretty intense as far as liking each other goes.
His face is covered in faded brown marks with a heavy cluster of them between his eyes and his temple. He has even more on his upper back where his shoulder blades are. I like to point to random freckles and declare it the freckle of the day. Then gently kiss it and try to remember how it is shaped. I never can. His hands are soft to the touch, and even warmer when you place yours in his. His fingers fit perfectly into mine. His elbows, or so he always claims, are especially sharp. They've been mutated to be so. He has yet to come up with an XMEN name, but I have hope that he will soon. His face is chiseled to perfection, and his lips are divine. I do so enjoy kissing them. If there is one thing to say about Jaten, it is that he is extremely handsome.
A new tradition has just popped into our relationship. Every Black Friday, we're going to build a fort, have a Monkee butler, and watch a movie. This year we built it in my bedroom, had a Monkee butler, and watched the Producers. We also filmed our submission video to audition to be on the Amazing Race. We knew we were going to film it, but he didn't tell me that he pressed record until I was half way through being weird as hell. Oh well, they wanted honesty, right?
If ever you meet a red headed boy with an Argentine-shaped freckle on his right bicep. One that smells of heaven and kisses like a god. A boy who can make you laugh and cry, but chooses only to do the first, stick with him. He'll give you hope for a very happy, bright future.
He is LDS, as is his family. Most people ask how that works, him being LDS and gay. I respond, "They haven't made an episode of HOW IT IS MADE yet, so I don't really know the logistics of it, but just like threading a bobbin, it works every time." Keep in mind I've never actually said that, but I mean to. I usually say something stupid like, "The same way feathers catch air," or "With a proper amount of Mexican food, anything is possible." Honestly, him being LDS hasn't caused any problems. You would think that it might, but I respect his choice, just like choices made by my other friends, to be religious in his way. He served his LDS mission in Argentina and still dreams of living there. Because of his mission, he now speaks Spanish fluently, and often helps me with mine. He's encouraging me to keep at it so I too can be fluent. We like to have conversations in front of non-speakers just to prove how cool we are.
Jaten lives in Bluffdale, UT. That is awful. I hate it. While the town itself is actually very quaint, it is just so damned far away! I rarely get to see him. I know, twice a week is actually quite often, but it is not really ever enough. However, it is significantly better than him living on another continent completely. I really shouldn't complain about how little I get to see him, but some of my friends at school have the exact same class schedule as their significant other. That usually means I want to punch them. We've always said that if we lived even 20 minutes closer to one another, that we would probably be married by now and have 3 children. We're pretty intense as far as liking each other goes.
His face is covered in faded brown marks with a heavy cluster of them between his eyes and his temple. He has even more on his upper back where his shoulder blades are. I like to point to random freckles and declare it the freckle of the day. Then gently kiss it and try to remember how it is shaped. I never can. His hands are soft to the touch, and even warmer when you place yours in his. His fingers fit perfectly into mine. His elbows, or so he always claims, are especially sharp. They've been mutated to be so. He has yet to come up with an XMEN name, but I have hope that he will soon. His face is chiseled to perfection, and his lips are divine. I do so enjoy kissing them. If there is one thing to say about Jaten, it is that he is extremely handsome.
A new tradition has just popped into our relationship. Every Black Friday, we're going to build a fort, have a Monkee butler, and watch a movie. This year we built it in my bedroom, had a Monkee butler, and watched the Producers. We also filmed our submission video to audition to be on the Amazing Race. We knew we were going to film it, but he didn't tell me that he pressed record until I was half way through being weird as hell. Oh well, they wanted honesty, right?
If ever you meet a red headed boy with an Argentine-shaped freckle on his right bicep. One that smells of heaven and kisses like a god. A boy who can make you laugh and cry, but chooses only to do the first, stick with him. He'll give you hope for a very happy, bright future.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Magic Is Everywhere
A few years ago I read the Harry Potter for the first, and so far only, time. I fell in love with them. I had always liked the movies, but now I have an even stronger connection to the words that J.K. Rowling has put onto bound paper. These stories have created a world of magic that I love to surround myself in. Any and every chance I get to reference the book and make the world of magic real, I take. Ordinary things become extraordinary. Balloons become levitating orbs, blankets become invisibility cloaks, and every locked door can be opened with a spell.
Naturally, to channel all my magical ability, I would need a wand. So, just like in the books, I had one. I made it from a simple piece of wood. I took a chisel, drill, hammer, and any other power tool I could find that would do the trick. Including one really scary thing that spins really fast and makes a very loud noise. By the end of my adventure, I had a beautiful wand to call my own. I stained it to give it a color I liked and I practiced in my back yard and on some Boggarts hiding in my barn. It worked like a charm. And still does. A day or so after making my wand (Phoenix feather) I made a second. One that looked very much like my own. I would use the same core so they could be brothers. I stained it a different color, but it works just as beautifully.
This brother wand has been sitting in my bedroom waiting for the one person to wield it. I had always been waiting for the right boy to come along and match the magic I was (am) capable of. I found him. I gave the brother wand to Jaten on Tuesday for his birthday. He deserves it; I'm falling for him. While Jaten isn't as keen on spell knowledge as I am, I trust this tangible token will inspire some studying. He's cute and says things like, "Luminos... in... your heart." I just laughed at the fact that the spell is "Lumos," and the light is emulated on the tip of the wand and cannot be placed where the caster desires. I marveled in adoration as he continued to do such things. He's pretty amazing. I'm really excited to share many more moments with him.
That's all for now.
Naturally, to channel all my magical ability, I would need a wand. So, just like in the books, I had one. I made it from a simple piece of wood. I took a chisel, drill, hammer, and any other power tool I could find that would do the trick. Including one really scary thing that spins really fast and makes a very loud noise. By the end of my adventure, I had a beautiful wand to call my own. I stained it to give it a color I liked and I practiced in my back yard and on some Boggarts hiding in my barn. It worked like a charm. And still does. A day or so after making my wand (Phoenix feather) I made a second. One that looked very much like my own. I would use the same core so they could be brothers. I stained it a different color, but it works just as beautifully.
This brother wand has been sitting in my bedroom waiting for the one person to wield it. I had always been waiting for the right boy to come along and match the magic I was (am) capable of. I found him. I gave the brother wand to Jaten on Tuesday for his birthday. He deserves it; I'm falling for him. While Jaten isn't as keen on spell knowledge as I am, I trust this tangible token will inspire some studying. He's cute and says things like, "Luminos... in... your heart." I just laughed at the fact that the spell is "Lumos," and the light is emulated on the tip of the wand and cannot be placed where the caster desires. I marveled in adoration as he continued to do such things. He's pretty amazing. I'm really excited to share many more moments with him.
That's all for now.
Magic Is Everywhere
A few years ago I read the Harry Potter for the first, and so far only, time. I fell in love with them. I had always liked the movies, but now I have an even stronger connection to the words that J.K. Rowling has put onto bound paper. These stories have created a world of magic that I love to surround myself in. Any and every chance I get to reference the book and make the world of magic real, I take. Ordinary things become extraordinary. Balloons become levitating orbs, blankets become invisibility cloaks, and every locked door can be opened with a spell.
Naturally, to channel all my magical ability, I would need a wand. So, just like in the books, I had one. I made it from a simple piece of wood. I took a chisel, drill, hammer, and any other power tool I could find that would do the trick. Including one really scary thing that spins really fast and makes a very loud noise. By the end of my adventure, I had a beautiful wand to call my own. I stained it to give it a color I liked and I practiced in my back yard and on some Boggarts hiding in my barn. It worked like a charm. And still does. A day or so after making my wand (Phoenix feather) I made a second. One that looked very much like my own. I would use the same core so they could be brothers. I stained it a different color, but it works just as beautifully.
This brother wand has been sitting in my bedroom waiting for the one person to wield it. I had always been waiting for the right boy to come along and match the magic I was (am) capable of. I found him. I gave the brother wand to Jaten on Tuesday for his birthday. He deserves it; I'm falling for him. While Jaten isn't as keen on spell knowledge as I am, I trust this tangible token will inspire some studying. He's cute and says things like, "Luminos... in... your heart." I just laughed at the fact that the spell is "Lumos," and the light is emulated on the tip of the wand and cannot be placed where the caster desires. I marveled in adoration as he continued to do such things. He's pretty amazing. I'm really excited to share many more moments with him.
That's all for now.
Naturally, to channel all my magical ability, I would need a wand. So, just like in the books, I had one. I made it from a simple piece of wood. I took a chisel, drill, hammer, and any other power tool I could find that would do the trick. Including one really scary thing that spins really fast and makes a very loud noise. By the end of my adventure, I had a beautiful wand to call my own. I stained it to give it a color I liked and I practiced in my back yard and on some Boggarts hiding in my barn. It worked like a charm. And still does. A day or so after making my wand (Phoenix feather) I made a second. One that looked very much like my own. I would use the same core so they could be brothers. I stained it a different color, but it works just as beautifully.
This brother wand has been sitting in my bedroom waiting for the one person to wield it. I had always been waiting for the right boy to come along and match the magic I was (am) capable of. I found him. I gave the brother wand to Jaten on Tuesday for his birthday. He deserves it; I'm falling for him. While Jaten isn't as keen on spell knowledge as I am, I trust this tangible token will inspire some studying. He's cute and says things like, "Luminos... in... your heart." I just laughed at the fact that the spell is "Lumos," and the light is emulated on the tip of the wand and cannot be placed where the caster desires. I marveled in adoration as he continued to do such things. He's pretty amazing. I'm really excited to share many more moments with him.
That's all for now.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Just a Few Thoughts
1. I met a boy at an Italian restaurant a few weeks ago. He's kind of cool, I guess. His name is Jaten. He's 140 lbs, has red hair, and apparently doesn't smell as much as most people. He's a phenomenal conversationalist and is extremely gentlemanly. He has a freckle on his right bicep that resembles an upside-down rendition of the country of Argentina. That is a bit Ironic because he served his LDS mission there a few years ago. For our first date he took me to lunch, the gigantic U on the side of the mountain in the SLC valley, and to the theaters on his campus; he's an acting major at the University of Utah. This leads me to number two.
2. Because he's an acting major, he spends time in theaters. Because I am a male, I am naturally competitive. This inherit trait leads me to be really ambitious in my field. I was, already, pretty intent on being the best I can, but now I am more-so. Now I want to be impressive to him, because he continues to impress me. I'm going to excel this year no matter what happens with Jaten. On that some note of doing fucking awesome, I was awarded at the end of last year a Half Tuition Waiver. That in it and of its self is kind of amazing and rewarding. At the beginning of this years first AAT (Associated Actors and Technicians) Catherine Zublin, one of my favorite professors, informed me that the department had extra money and was awarding me a FULL Tuition Waiver. Of course I was thrilled. Ecstatic. I hugged her. It is a really great feeling knowing that your department likes you and your contributions so much that they will pay for your schooling.
3. With the money my parents are saving from me getting a sweet full ride scholarship, I want to buy a camera. I AM the AAT Historian, which means that I will be responsible for documenting everything that happens this 2011-2012 school year which includes the AAT season. I am in the process of convincing my parents to do this for me, I hope they do it. That would be the tits.
4. We're going to look back on number one, and everything about Jaten. Mostly because I like talking about him. A lot. He's incredibly cute, silly, and he likes to play along with all the Derek-like things that I do. He's in a show at the Lab in SLC, but last night after it ended, he drove all the way up here to have a nice little nap in the treehousecargonet in my tree. Before actually making it to the cargo net, I took him to two very good places in the Ogden area. The first was my favorite set of swings. Just a few minutes from my home, a town called Pleasant View has both some high-ass swings that are just amazing, and a surprisingly pleasant view. But no view of Ogden compares to the view from location number two: the infamous Frog Rock. Made popular by Weber High student as one of the only make-out spots in the Weber Valley, this rock over looks the entire city and all the lights the night has to offer. I am pleased to announce that this boy is both a hopeless romantic like myself, but also a very good kisser. After some very good conversation in my cargo net, we decided that actual sleep was our best bet. Trouble is, when you're in a bed with a cute boy, sleeping is SOOOOOO boring. Instead we cuddled and kissed a lot. Great fun. :)
5. Our dearest Calves is going to Bible College in Boise, Idaho next week and to celebrate her growing up, we all went 80's dancing. It was extremely fun and really easy to keep up with the trends of that decade. I dressed as a punk-ass-mothuh-fuckuh who listens to punk-ass-mothuh-fuckin music. It was great. We totally rocked that house down! Jaten went too and he's cute. :)
That will be the end of this post, but keep in mind that Jaten is adorable.
2. Because he's an acting major, he spends time in theaters. Because I am a male, I am naturally competitive. This inherit trait leads me to be really ambitious in my field. I was, already, pretty intent on being the best I can, but now I am more-so. Now I want to be impressive to him, because he continues to impress me. I'm going to excel this year no matter what happens with Jaten. On that some note of doing fucking awesome, I was awarded at the end of last year a Half Tuition Waiver. That in it and of its self is kind of amazing and rewarding. At the beginning of this years first AAT (Associated Actors and Technicians) Catherine Zublin, one of my favorite professors, informed me that the department had extra money and was awarding me a FULL Tuition Waiver. Of course I was thrilled. Ecstatic. I hugged her. It is a really great feeling knowing that your department likes you and your contributions so much that they will pay for your schooling.
3. With the money my parents are saving from me getting a sweet full ride scholarship, I want to buy a camera. I AM the AAT Historian, which means that I will be responsible for documenting everything that happens this 2011-2012 school year which includes the AAT season. I am in the process of convincing my parents to do this for me, I hope they do it. That would be the tits.
4. We're going to look back on number one, and everything about Jaten. Mostly because I like talking about him. A lot. He's incredibly cute, silly, and he likes to play along with all the Derek-like things that I do. He's in a show at the Lab in SLC, but last night after it ended, he drove all the way up here to have a nice little nap in the treehousecargonet in my tree. Before actually making it to the cargo net, I took him to two very good places in the Ogden area. The first was my favorite set of swings. Just a few minutes from my home, a town called Pleasant View has both some high-ass swings that are just amazing, and a surprisingly pleasant view. But no view of Ogden compares to the view from location number two: the infamous Frog Rock. Made popular by Weber High student as one of the only make-out spots in the Weber Valley, this rock over looks the entire city and all the lights the night has to offer. I am pleased to announce that this boy is both a hopeless romantic like myself, but also a very good kisser. After some very good conversation in my cargo net, we decided that actual sleep was our best bet. Trouble is, when you're in a bed with a cute boy, sleeping is SOOOOOO boring. Instead we cuddled and kissed a lot. Great fun. :)
5. Our dearest Calves is going to Bible College in Boise, Idaho next week and to celebrate her growing up, we all went 80's dancing. It was extremely fun and really easy to keep up with the trends of that decade. I dressed as a punk-ass-mothuh-fuckuh who listens to punk-ass-mothuh-fuckin music. It was great. We totally rocked that house down! Jaten went too and he's cute. :)
That will be the end of this post, but keep in mind that Jaten is adorable.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Q
I concurred a great many of my fears this last weekend.
1. I rode a horse. While I've done this before, it remains to scare me. In addition to the stamped of these wild beasts, I would also frightened by the fact that we had not one of those door-handle like thingys to hold onto. The trip itself was not that bad, Quigly (my horses name) held his own and me too. He was a champ and we talked one another through the entire experience.
2. I shot the "Tube." After being assigned an inner tube, a helmet, and (if you're wearing a bikini bottom) a leather diaper, one must hike a quarter mile up a hill to find the beginning of a scary-ass water slide powered by river water. I had to sign a waver to do such an activity, and I was not excited. essecially, there is a damn at the top of the slide that collects water as you fasten yourself appropriately in the slide. When the damn is compromised, the weight of the water pushes you at warp speed down the hill into a pool at the bottom. I call it screaming, but everyone else called it a handsome "Man Cry." --I was doing that a lot.
3. I fucking zip-lined! Holy shit was that scary. Essentially, you attach yourself to a metal string and slide down a mountain. One is in control of how fast one goes by using your hand as a break... That is, of course, if the lines are dry. They were not. Fuck that shit.
All in all, I really enjoyed Buena Vista. It was very pretty, and a lot of fun. I spent an amazing two nights with my best friends and some new ones too. We sang, we drank (a little) we jumped in the pool naked. Or, at least, I did... I do that sometimes.
Costa Rica is great, but now that all the excursions are over, I'm thinking the initial appeal of the country is kind of dying. I'm ready to be home. I'm ready for some Del Taco and Monkee time.
1. I rode a horse. While I've done this before, it remains to scare me. In addition to the stamped of these wild beasts, I would also frightened by the fact that we had not one of those door-handle like thingys to hold onto. The trip itself was not that bad, Quigly (my horses name) held his own and me too. He was a champ and we talked one another through the entire experience.
2. I shot the "Tube." After being assigned an inner tube, a helmet, and (if you're wearing a bikini bottom) a leather diaper, one must hike a quarter mile up a hill to find the beginning of a scary-ass water slide powered by river water. I had to sign a waver to do such an activity, and I was not excited. essecially, there is a damn at the top of the slide that collects water as you fasten yourself appropriately in the slide. When the damn is compromised, the weight of the water pushes you at warp speed down the hill into a pool at the bottom. I call it screaming, but everyone else called it a handsome "Man Cry." --I was doing that a lot.
3. I fucking zip-lined! Holy shit was that scary. Essentially, you attach yourself to a metal string and slide down a mountain. One is in control of how fast one goes by using your hand as a break... That is, of course, if the lines are dry. They were not. Fuck that shit.
All in all, I really enjoyed Buena Vista. It was very pretty, and a lot of fun. I spent an amazing two nights with my best friends and some new ones too. We sang, we drank (a little) we jumped in the pool naked. Or, at least, I did... I do that sometimes.
Costa Rica is great, but now that all the excursions are over, I'm thinking the initial appeal of the country is kind of dying. I'm ready to be home. I'm ready for some Del Taco and Monkee time.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
CR And Shit.
There is a sense of danger on the streets here. Everyone keeps their belongings close and no one wears anything in their back pockets. Fare for the bus is taken out ahead of time, so one isn’t caught looking through a purse in the presence of strangers. It is recommended that no one go out at night—I don’t agree. The sidewalk, even when well lit, has a sensation of suspicious activity. One is constantly being watched, and no one seems to think otherwise. The homes, as secure as they can be, have bars on the windows and alarms set to kill. Each house, no matter the neighborhood, has a fence encasing it scantily clad in barbed wire and spikes. It must be hard to be a teenager in this country. Not only would it prove difficult to sneak out of your bedroom window because of the metal bars, but surely the roof of the house directly next you ones would not appreciate the weight of an escapee. For a lot of places, there is literally no yard. Homes might as well just share spices kept on their respective spice racks and not bother with dry wall at all. Sound travels easily here, as no one makes any; safe for the children and the dogs about, they all feel it is rude to be noisy at night (less so in the morning). This would make having an underage drinking party especially difficult considering all they want to do is drink, dance, and screw. What else do they have to do?
It seems that wherever I go, I get stared at for standing out just a little. Whether it be my gaudily stripped t-shirt, or my rolled up, Capri-like skinny jeans. People are always staring. Oddly enough, most of the males have either a Mohawk or a rattail hanging from the back of their heads. That is what they should be concerned about. If you thought boobs were big in Utah, you should reconsider the thought. They are huge here, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. Women wear tight fitted clothing (like everywhere) and some kind of support system that makes their chest stick out like a male erection. Finally, women are on par! Only kidding.
No one seems to mind that there is so much graffiti on the buildings that line the roads. Maybe they do mind, but no one seems to bother covering it up. I have to say, a lot of it is really impressive. Chelsea has been taking pictures of it, so if you’re interested, refer to her photo albums on the Faus when she uploads them. Art does exist in this culture, but not how one would think. There are a lot of places in towns that sell painted souvenirs and handmade bracelets (beautiful!), in addition to the evasive paintings on the walls of abandoned homes. There are galleries, but I doubt people attend them. I’ve visited the National Theater in downtown San Jose and there are some really pretty statues. The theater holds orchestras but as far as I can tell, no live theater. That is a bummer.
It is perfectly normal to see someone just laying on the sidewalk trying to catch a few hours of sleep before waking up to their life without many privileges. In addition, there are people who are trying to sell their different things (pork rinds, tortilla chips, cell phone cases, newspapers, etc.) in the streets—I don’t know how well it works, but if it works for them it works. There are also the select few who have to neat talent of being able to either ride a unicycle or juggle bowling pins. I’ve only seen two performers who can do both. These people also work on the streets, showing off for the cars that are stopped at traffic lights and collecting any money they can.
Costa Rica is a strange place. I like it here, but I’m ready to come home.
It seems that wherever I go, I get stared at for standing out just a little. Whether it be my gaudily stripped t-shirt, or my rolled up, Capri-like skinny jeans. People are always staring. Oddly enough, most of the males have either a Mohawk or a rattail hanging from the back of their heads. That is what they should be concerned about. If you thought boobs were big in Utah, you should reconsider the thought. They are huge here, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. Women wear tight fitted clothing (like everywhere) and some kind of support system that makes their chest stick out like a male erection. Finally, women are on par! Only kidding.
No one seems to mind that there is so much graffiti on the buildings that line the roads. Maybe they do mind, but no one seems to bother covering it up. I have to say, a lot of it is really impressive. Chelsea has been taking pictures of it, so if you’re interested, refer to her photo albums on the Faus when she uploads them. Art does exist in this culture, but not how one would think. There are a lot of places in towns that sell painted souvenirs and handmade bracelets (beautiful!), in addition to the evasive paintings on the walls of abandoned homes. There are galleries, but I doubt people attend them. I’ve visited the National Theater in downtown San Jose and there are some really pretty statues. The theater holds orchestras but as far as I can tell, no live theater. That is a bummer.
It is perfectly normal to see someone just laying on the sidewalk trying to catch a few hours of sleep before waking up to their life without many privileges. In addition, there are people who are trying to sell their different things (pork rinds, tortilla chips, cell phone cases, newspapers, etc.) in the streets—I don’t know how well it works, but if it works for them it works. There are also the select few who have to neat talent of being able to either ride a unicycle or juggle bowling pins. I’ve only seen two performers who can do both. These people also work on the streets, showing off for the cars that are stopped at traffic lights and collecting any money they can.
Costa Rica is a strange place. I like it here, but I’m ready to come home.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Volcano Is A Cool Word. Just Sayin'.
I finally have internet here in my house which makes me feel like the 20 dollar flash drive I bought seem like a waste. Especially considering it has a tiny memory.
Saturday we woke up early to ride in a bathroom-equipped tour bus for four hours. Had it not been pee ready, I would have been significantly more upset about the fact. We were heading in the up direction that took us on a mountain. Every so often the conversation (which consisted of us bitching and complaining about our Tika misfortunes) would slow and I would find myself gazing out the window. Mostly I saw poor people and farms. Every once in a while, I’d see a goat or a puppy and exclaim, “Hi, puppy!” but only when I saw the dog, not so much the horned beast. This trip is taking us to a volcano named Arenal. I don’t know many facts about the volcano otherwise I’d throw some out. What I do know is that it looks exactly as one would assume a volcano to look like, which does not always happen. If one were to Google image search the word “Arenal,” one would be pleasantly bombarded with images of a beautiful, tropical wonder. Do it.
Because the volcano is currently inactive, we went to a nearby resort called Tabacon. You can image search that too and be really jealous. Do it. After doing so, one can basically just imagine how much fun that was.
The weekend excursions were limited this past Sunday and we were to do our own thing. Being short on cash and a little more frugal than I’ve been, I joined a few friends who were heading to a beach that was about four dollars away. I don’t remember the name of the beach, but it was shit. And two of my friends got robbed. One lost her eight hundred dollar camera that was purchased solely for this trip, and the other lost her entire bag. It contained things such as her wallet (card included—that was a fun time trying to cancel it from the beach), her camera, and the clothes she planned to wear on top of her swimming suit. All bullshit things aside, I bought a few souvenirs and got a little drunk from my Gogogadget-flask. I know I say “Best. Idea (Invention). Ever.” A lot, but sometimes you just cannot go without saying it.
I miss people more that I lead on. I miss my friends, and I miss my family. I miss fireworks and I miss being in Utah. I really hope everyone is doing well and still having fun without me. I know it is a difficult task, but being without you isn’t exactly easy either. I love you all. Keep me updated and keep reading my updates.
Derek! ;D
Saturday we woke up early to ride in a bathroom-equipped tour bus for four hours. Had it not been pee ready, I would have been significantly more upset about the fact. We were heading in the up direction that took us on a mountain. Every so often the conversation (which consisted of us bitching and complaining about our Tika misfortunes) would slow and I would find myself gazing out the window. Mostly I saw poor people and farms. Every once in a while, I’d see a goat or a puppy and exclaim, “Hi, puppy!” but only when I saw the dog, not so much the horned beast. This trip is taking us to a volcano named Arenal. I don’t know many facts about the volcano otherwise I’d throw some out. What I do know is that it looks exactly as one would assume a volcano to look like, which does not always happen. If one were to Google image search the word “Arenal,” one would be pleasantly bombarded with images of a beautiful, tropical wonder. Do it.
Because the volcano is currently inactive, we went to a nearby resort called Tabacon. You can image search that too and be really jealous. Do it. After doing so, one can basically just imagine how much fun that was.
The weekend excursions were limited this past Sunday and we were to do our own thing. Being short on cash and a little more frugal than I’ve been, I joined a few friends who were heading to a beach that was about four dollars away. I don’t remember the name of the beach, but it was shit. And two of my friends got robbed. One lost her eight hundred dollar camera that was purchased solely for this trip, and the other lost her entire bag. It contained things such as her wallet (card included—that was a fun time trying to cancel it from the beach), her camera, and the clothes she planned to wear on top of her swimming suit. All bullshit things aside, I bought a few souvenirs and got a little drunk from my Gogogadget-flask. I know I say “Best. Idea (Invention). Ever.” A lot, but sometimes you just cannot go without saying it.
I miss people more that I lead on. I miss my friends, and I miss my family. I miss fireworks and I miss being in Utah. I really hope everyone is doing well and still having fun without me. I know it is a difficult task, but being without you isn’t exactly easy either. I love you all. Keep me updated and keep reading my updates.
Derek! ;D
Enhancing My Thoughts (Or Destroying My Analysis) Seven Literally Masterpieces At a Time. J.K.
Imagine you’re walking through a forest; A forest of your choosing. The tree’s are as you see them. They may be tall, short, green, brown, or even blue. They may have a lot of branches are leaves, or they may have very little. The trees that I imagine are very tall. They’ve got little to no branches, and what they do have lie at the very top of the trunk. One has to really squint to see them, especially considering that the light shining through is more dominant than the obscurity blocking it. The roots that these grey trees are feeding from are large and overgrown. They once moved like water to wherever they wanted, but they’ve since found refuge in a place most comfortable to them. The obstacles that these tree roots have created are easy to move about, but it isn’t without effort; they’re everywhere.
I realize I have no reason for walking in a forest when I am suddenly stopped by the sight of a pot. A pot, as a closer look proves, a cauldron lies in the middle of my path. Not one someone might try cooking with, but brewing instead. The pot is about the size of a flesh covered skull and is made of copper. The rustic look it gives makes it look as though someone has tried brewing in it before, making it look both worn and black.
I could have easily walked around the pot, or cauldron as it may be, but I felt as though that would have defeated the purpose of the walk. This cauldron is in my path for a reason, but whatever the reason, I know not why. I have two choices: I can either keep in on me and pick it up, or step around it and continue on my path. I consider both options and decide to step to my left and continue through the sea of wooden legs. Had the trees been planet in a lineage fashion, my walk would be determined for me, as stepping diagonally or zigzag would feel unnatural, but as they’ve grown wherever they have, this is not the case. I can step wherever I want and that mind set is what led me to this river. I don’t know where it came from or why it is here, but it is in my way. I suspect passersby usually drown in it due to the fact that it is both wide and assumedly deep. But, being learned in the magical arts, I simply wave my wand and a bridge appears. I cross with ease and continue on my destination less journey.
After having crossed the river, the thought of my journey strikes me again. Where am I going? Where am I coming from? Where ever it is, I hope it is different than this forest; it gives me goose bumps. I ponder a little more on where I am when A wall comes straight for me. This is definitely the most difficult task I’ve encountered on this trek. The wall is neither climbable nor destroyable. I don’t know where it begins, ends, or hides. Using a spell I read about in a book, I make a small incision in the white brick in front of me. Doing this gives me the opportunity to peer through to the other side. Honestly, it isn’t much more appealing than where I am at. It looks as though there is a sunless desert on the other side with trees that are rotting and falling apart. The sand is grey just as the sky is. It is both freezing cold and oven hot at the same time, or so it seems. This cannot be what the other side looks like, surely... But I’ve been wrong before.
Upon analysis, the forest and trees represent how I see life. I see life as a dark and decrepit place, as we have it. There isn’t much life around, just things above me. The taller the trees, the more problems one might have. I’m told that if the trees were linear, life would be more smooth sailing because there aren’t very many reasons to keep you off track. Not only were they not, the roots also kept me on my toes. The pot is a representation of a love life. The bigger the pot, the closer to matrimony one is. If the pot is carried to the river, a matrimony will be well welcomed. The river is sex. I don’t remember exactly what
he said about it, but I like to think that if it is deep then so is her vagina. Mostly because I think that is funny... There was something to be said about if one was able to swim across it, step on rocks to get across, or find a broken tree, and cross it on foot. I don’t think the analysis had anything to say about magic. It is said that what you see on the other side of the wall is what you believe the afterlife to be. I guess it just goes to show you that I am a bitter soul—which is basically exactly how my day has been. I woke up way too early.
Derek Williamson
XOXOXO
P.S. I miss my Monkee. :( Me estran(~)o mi mono.
I realize I have no reason for walking in a forest when I am suddenly stopped by the sight of a pot. A pot, as a closer look proves, a cauldron lies in the middle of my path. Not one someone might try cooking with, but brewing instead. The pot is about the size of a flesh covered skull and is made of copper. The rustic look it gives makes it look as though someone has tried brewing in it before, making it look both worn and black.
I could have easily walked around the pot, or cauldron as it may be, but I felt as though that would have defeated the purpose of the walk. This cauldron is in my path for a reason, but whatever the reason, I know not why. I have two choices: I can either keep in on me and pick it up, or step around it and continue on my path. I consider both options and decide to step to my left and continue through the sea of wooden legs. Had the trees been planet in a lineage fashion, my walk would be determined for me, as stepping diagonally or zigzag would feel unnatural, but as they’ve grown wherever they have, this is not the case. I can step wherever I want and that mind set is what led me to this river. I don’t know where it came from or why it is here, but it is in my way. I suspect passersby usually drown in it due to the fact that it is both wide and assumedly deep. But, being learned in the magical arts, I simply wave my wand and a bridge appears. I cross with ease and continue on my destination less journey.
After having crossed the river, the thought of my journey strikes me again. Where am I going? Where am I coming from? Where ever it is, I hope it is different than this forest; it gives me goose bumps. I ponder a little more on where I am when A wall comes straight for me. This is definitely the most difficult task I’ve encountered on this trek. The wall is neither climbable nor destroyable. I don’t know where it begins, ends, or hides. Using a spell I read about in a book, I make a small incision in the white brick in front of me. Doing this gives me the opportunity to peer through to the other side. Honestly, it isn’t much more appealing than where I am at. It looks as though there is a sunless desert on the other side with trees that are rotting and falling apart. The sand is grey just as the sky is. It is both freezing cold and oven hot at the same time, or so it seems. This cannot be what the other side looks like, surely... But I’ve been wrong before.
Upon analysis, the forest and trees represent how I see life. I see life as a dark and decrepit place, as we have it. There isn’t much life around, just things above me. The taller the trees, the more problems one might have. I’m told that if the trees were linear, life would be more smooth sailing because there aren’t very many reasons to keep you off track. Not only were they not, the roots also kept me on my toes. The pot is a representation of a love life. The bigger the pot, the closer to matrimony one is. If the pot is carried to the river, a matrimony will be well welcomed. The river is sex. I don’t remember exactly what
he said about it, but I like to think that if it is deep then so is her vagina. Mostly because I think that is funny... There was something to be said about if one was able to swim across it, step on rocks to get across, or find a broken tree, and cross it on foot. I don’t think the analysis had anything to say about magic. It is said that what you see on the other side of the wall is what you believe the afterlife to be. I guess it just goes to show you that I am a bitter soul—which is basically exactly how my day has been. I woke up way too early.
Derek Williamson
XOXOXO
P.S. I miss my Monkee. :( Me estran(~)o mi mono.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Experience Choices With an S.
Today after class, a bunch of us went to downtown San Jose to do a language exchange with some Spanish speaking students who are learning English. This is said to be a great opportunity to both learn and give help to those in need. Olger, our teacher, lead the group onto the appropriate bus and into the school where student go to learn English. Olger is our teacher at ILISA, and he is also a teacher at the school we’re going, which is a branch of ILISA only by a different name that escapes my memory. Usually Olger does not speak English to us, because the curriculum forbids it, as it will help us learn quicker, but today, after class, he was talking up an English storm. That may have been the most comma’s I’ve ever used in once sentence. I hope I used them well enough for them to not be considered accomplices in a run-on-sentence; I’m sure Bridget will let me know if it is. The class in which I was “exchanging” was being taught by my conversation teacher, Jorge. He is also the teacher that Christa and I are developing a large crush on (he has the cutest accent when he speaks in English). Regardless, Jorge had me and two other ILISA students helping small groups of three with their English homework. To us, this work is simple. Things we would have learned in 4th or 5th grade, but to them, it is very difficult. It was both interesting and relieving to find that there are other people in the world that are struggling with a new language. That shit is fucking hard! Here in this class, we began to talk about the word sense and all of its different conjugations i.e. sensible, sensitive, senses, sense, sensation, etc. We came to sensitive issues when Jorge asked the class what they think are sensitive issues and are difficult to talk about. Most of the class responded with things like, religion, politics, and sex. But one student responded with sexual orientation. This is a sensitive issue for me, but only when I sense a feeling of animosity towards the subject. I felt that animosity in this class room and I quickly became very uncomfortable. Most of class agreed that it isn’t a big deal, but there were a few students that felt very strongly for the other hand. I’ve been asked to go back, but I don’t know if I want to. None of the students in that class room know that I’m gay, except maybe the one’s that I arrived with, but even still, it is scary. Apparently it is even more frowned upon to be a homosexual in Costa Rica, than it is in Utah in the heart of an LDS family. I suddenly feel significantly less safe...
On another, more enjoyable note, Jeff and I were sure that we finally knew our way from our casa tika to downtown San Pedro. And, in spite our last attempt, we accomplished just what we set out to do. It took us about 2 hours to walk to school today, what with all the stop go to look in the different shops on the way. At times, I felt as though my body would poop out on me; I’ve been feeling extremely beat these last 2 days. For the longest time I could not figure out why, but after analyzing which muscles gave me discomfort, I came to the conclusion that it was from all the swing dancing Shay and I had been doing on Saturday. She and I started just for a laugh when we were in Punta Leona, but as she began to feel stronger about how “naturally good” I am at the swinging, we began to do more difficult moves. I was literally throwing her about my body, just as one imagines when picturing partners swinging. Needless to say, there are few sore spots on my body. But honestly, I’m really excited to keep learning. I promised to go to the Union Station on Wednesdays with her when we get back; they’re swing dance nights in Ogden. This means I’ll have to pull out the Zuka suit and the Bengay.
That is all for now, but stay in touch. Loves and such from Costa Rica!
Xoxoxo
Derek.
On another, more enjoyable note, Jeff and I were sure that we finally knew our way from our casa tika to downtown San Pedro. And, in spite our last attempt, we accomplished just what we set out to do. It took us about 2 hours to walk to school today, what with all the stop go to look in the different shops on the way. At times, I felt as though my body would poop out on me; I’ve been feeling extremely beat these last 2 days. For the longest time I could not figure out why, but after analyzing which muscles gave me discomfort, I came to the conclusion that it was from all the swing dancing Shay and I had been doing on Saturday. She and I started just for a laugh when we were in Punta Leona, but as she began to feel stronger about how “naturally good” I am at the swinging, we began to do more difficult moves. I was literally throwing her about my body, just as one imagines when picturing partners swinging. Needless to say, there are few sore spots on my body. But honestly, I’m really excited to keep learning. I promised to go to the Union Station on Wednesdays with her when we get back; they’re swing dance nights in Ogden. This means I’ll have to pull out the Zuka suit and the Bengay.
That is all for now, but stay in touch. Loves and such from Costa Rica!
Xoxoxo
Derek.
Monday, June 27, 2011
A Little Rain Never Hurt Anyone.
Punta Leona is a nice resort on the Pacific side of the country; A well branded establishment known for its private beach, 3 pools, and a miniature golf course. In addition to the natural wildlife, the not-so- natural butter fly exhibit, and the beautiful sky-scraping jungle trees, there is a mountain side of hotel rooms. Chelsea’s hotel room began the adventures, but mine apparently ended them. Between rooms, there was swimming, volleyball, karaoke, and a lot of fucking dancing. I mean a lot. We started playing volley ball after the beach burned me out. I don’t love the beach. There is a lot of salt in my eyes, a lot of violent water in my noise, and too damn much sand in my vagina. The volley was really getting good when it began to rain, but the weather here is so hot all the time (so is the water), that the rain was treated as an invited guest. We played until we couldn’t see any longer. The water soaked us so much, that an awesome pool sess was in session. After the pool, we ran back to our rooms to throw on some clothes, fill our bellies with the all you can eat buffet in the restaurant, then back to the party. Near the bar, there was some Karaoke. I was so down to do a song, but they were all in Spanish, and I can’t just pretend to know a song, not even in English. The drunk happened again. Thank god. Which means so did the dancing. The night was good. But it was hardly done. I thought it was nearly finished when we started walking back to our hotel room singing different drunken songs at the top of our lungs, but all of a sudden we found a special, secrete, hidden pool that spoke to us as if a river of sirens were calling our names. Chelsea, McKenna, and I all jumped in and continued our intoxicated ramblings of music. We also decided that we’re the world’s first underwater band. You might be asking yourself, “What t eff is an underwater band?” Well, it is very simple, Reader. It is basically just pantomiming instruments, but also making the noises, all while underwater.
After the pool, I returned to my hotel room to find a band of Weber State University misfits were having their ridiculously boring conversation in my bed. That was no good, but I didn’t want to be rude so I pulled up a chair. I got really sick of them, so I pretend to fall asleep. They soon realized that they were depriving me of my soft pillows with a need to elevate their feet, and within minutes, they left. Best. Plan. Ever. As soon as they did, I took a really nice shower, followed by a really quick doze into slumber land. 6 hours later I awoke to the thought of missing the free breakfast. I threw on my flops and was out the door! The beach seems so appealing on TV, but honestly in practice, it is significantly less satisfying. I learned this the hard way. It took us 30 minutes to get to the good beach, and it took me 30 minutes to correct that mistake. But correcting it was a very good decision. The pools at this resort are wonderful. And I definitely spent the better part of today in it. If it weren’t for the shitty restaurant service (40-50 minutes were wasted waiting for a plate of fries), this resort could be my new best friend. The day grew longer and the sun began to drop. The time to leave the resort was upon us when I decided that there needed to be more volley in the mix. And so it was. The bus ride home was a sandy one, but I made a new friend, so I didn’t mind all the sand. She is different from all the other new friends I’ve made because I met her so late in the trip. Everyone else has been on the same page since almost day one.
I’m missing home. I love my family and all the things they do. But honestly, what I’m missing most is a block of cheese, and my Monkee. And you cannot forget a delicious burrito (red sauce) from Del Taco. I suppose I’m weird for not getting separation anxiety from my real home. I like it there, and some days it is just where I need to be, but for now, I’m content. You will all be happy to know that I put a bunch of pictures on the wall where I rest my head. So if I love you, you’re not forgotten. Keep in touch, friends.
Write me on facebook. I don’t get to be on a computer for very long, and I usually only have time to respond, but I would love to hear from you. Also, don’t write me a message because for some reason I cannot check my inbox on the Faus Buk. However, if you feel I should, I can start checking my Yahoo account. Derekrulz@yahoo is where you can write me there.
Loves,
Derekita.
XOXOXO
After the pool, I returned to my hotel room to find a band of Weber State University misfits were having their ridiculously boring conversation in my bed. That was no good, but I didn’t want to be rude so I pulled up a chair. I got really sick of them, so I pretend to fall asleep. They soon realized that they were depriving me of my soft pillows with a need to elevate their feet, and within minutes, they left. Best. Plan. Ever. As soon as they did, I took a really nice shower, followed by a really quick doze into slumber land. 6 hours later I awoke to the thought of missing the free breakfast. I threw on my flops and was out the door! The beach seems so appealing on TV, but honestly in practice, it is significantly less satisfying. I learned this the hard way. It took us 30 minutes to get to the good beach, and it took me 30 minutes to correct that mistake. But correcting it was a very good decision. The pools at this resort are wonderful. And I definitely spent the better part of today in it. If it weren’t for the shitty restaurant service (40-50 minutes were wasted waiting for a plate of fries), this resort could be my new best friend. The day grew longer and the sun began to drop. The time to leave the resort was upon us when I decided that there needed to be more volley in the mix. And so it was. The bus ride home was a sandy one, but I made a new friend, so I didn’t mind all the sand. She is different from all the other new friends I’ve made because I met her so late in the trip. Everyone else has been on the same page since almost day one.
I’m missing home. I love my family and all the things they do. But honestly, what I’m missing most is a block of cheese, and my Monkee. And you cannot forget a delicious burrito (red sauce) from Del Taco. I suppose I’m weird for not getting separation anxiety from my real home. I like it there, and some days it is just where I need to be, but for now, I’m content. You will all be happy to know that I put a bunch of pictures on the wall where I rest my head. So if I love you, you’re not forgotten. Keep in touch, friends.
Write me on facebook. I don’t get to be on a computer for very long, and I usually only have time to respond, but I would love to hear from you. Also, don’t write me a message because for some reason I cannot check my inbox on the Faus Buk. However, if you feel I should, I can start checking my Yahoo account. Derekrulz@yahoo is where you can write me there.
Loves,
Derekita.
XOXOXO
Terra U
Last night we all made a plan to go to the bar that Chelsea and Christa found on accident. They said that
it was a fun, happening place, so the rest of us were all on board. Lindsey, who is a member of the family
we are staying with, came with Jeff and me in addition to Caitlyn (sheís also in the WSU group). We
arrived, and we quickly found that Chelsea and Christa were rightóit was a fun, happening place. The
beer was a bit cheaper than the bar Jeff and I went to the other day, Jazz CafÈ (The Jazz cafÈ was a bar
we also all made plans to go to, but no one showed up except 2 other girls from the program. We paid
to get inside, when everyone else decided it was too expensive and found last nightís bar, Terra U). One
by one, different people we knew would show up, all girls and all permitted upstairs. We donít know
why, but us men were not allowed upstairs. We didnít even know what secrets the level contained. That
made it easier, I suppose, but as soon as we learned that ladies drink for free up there, then I got really
sour. What was super bull shit was that as soon as the girls went upstairs, they never came back down. I
should not have let that ruin my night, but it did. I was really upset to hear that when asked to join us
again down stairs, they would say things like, ìItís your fault for being a boy.î Maybe Iím over reacting,
but that shit is rude. Iím not incredibly impressed with my friends at this point.
We went to the movies a few days ago because everyone kept saying, ìDos para uno!î which means 2
for 1 movie prices. We were really looking forward to some Spanish cinema for a really good priceó
turns out that it was American cinema with Spanish subtitles at regular prices. That was stupid. We saw
Piratas Del Caribe. Iíve already seen this Pirates Movie installment, so I was not too incredibly impressed
with it a second timeÖ I barely even bothered reading the subtitles.
Jeff and I have been keeping a really good eye on our surroundings so we never get lost again. You
would think keeping an eye on things would keep us also from getting into pirate taxiís, but it doesnít.
After the bar last night, Jeff was persuaded to get into a non licensed cab, and was ready to accept that.
Lindsey and I were not going along with such a silly idea and we pulled him out and found another. Iím
getting really good at getting us all home in one piece each. Learning things like, ìCurridabat La Lia, por
favor.î That is our neighborhood. I can direct the driver left, right, and gaily forward, in addition to
inquiring about the condition of the meter. It is really easy to get swindled in taxiís here.
Classes are still going well, but it definitely sucks not having a book. I have to do it early in the morning
or before leaving the school and I have to use other peopleís books. So far theyíve all been really ok with
letting me borrow them. The lectures are usually boring, and sometimes really hard to not fall asleep.
The work isnít difficult, but the concept is usually a bit tricky to grasp. If one doesnít speak Spanish, and
theyíre trying to explain things in Spanish, one doesnít understand the concept being explained.
Sometimes I just want to yell at the teachers, ìShut the hell up with your Spanish bull shit!!!î I never do,
I just want to.
Tomorrow weíre going to Punta Leona. Iíll let you know how it is. :D
Derek Williamson
XOXOXO
it was a fun, happening place, so the rest of us were all on board. Lindsey, who is a member of the family
we are staying with, came with Jeff and me in addition to Caitlyn (sheís also in the WSU group). We
arrived, and we quickly found that Chelsea and Christa were rightóit was a fun, happening place. The
beer was a bit cheaper than the bar Jeff and I went to the other day, Jazz CafÈ (The Jazz cafÈ was a bar
we also all made plans to go to, but no one showed up except 2 other girls from the program. We paid
to get inside, when everyone else decided it was too expensive and found last nightís bar, Terra U). One
by one, different people we knew would show up, all girls and all permitted upstairs. We donít know
why, but us men were not allowed upstairs. We didnít even know what secrets the level contained. That
made it easier, I suppose, but as soon as we learned that ladies drink for free up there, then I got really
sour. What was super bull shit was that as soon as the girls went upstairs, they never came back down. I
should not have let that ruin my night, but it did. I was really upset to hear that when asked to join us
again down stairs, they would say things like, ìItís your fault for being a boy.î Maybe Iím over reacting,
but that shit is rude. Iím not incredibly impressed with my friends at this point.
We went to the movies a few days ago because everyone kept saying, ìDos para uno!î which means 2
for 1 movie prices. We were really looking forward to some Spanish cinema for a really good priceó
turns out that it was American cinema with Spanish subtitles at regular prices. That was stupid. We saw
Piratas Del Caribe. Iíve already seen this Pirates Movie installment, so I was not too incredibly impressed
with it a second timeÖ I barely even bothered reading the subtitles.
Jeff and I have been keeping a really good eye on our surroundings so we never get lost again. You
would think keeping an eye on things would keep us also from getting into pirate taxiís, but it doesnít.
After the bar last night, Jeff was persuaded to get into a non licensed cab, and was ready to accept that.
Lindsey and I were not going along with such a silly idea and we pulled him out and found another. Iím
getting really good at getting us all home in one piece each. Learning things like, ìCurridabat La Lia, por
favor.î That is our neighborhood. I can direct the driver left, right, and gaily forward, in addition to
inquiring about the condition of the meter. It is really easy to get swindled in taxiís here.
Classes are still going well, but it definitely sucks not having a book. I have to do it early in the morning
or before leaving the school and I have to use other peopleís books. So far theyíve all been really ok with
letting me borrow them. The lectures are usually boring, and sometimes really hard to not fall asleep.
The work isnít difficult, but the concept is usually a bit tricky to grasp. If one doesnít speak Spanish, and
theyíre trying to explain things in Spanish, one doesnít understand the concept being explained.
Sometimes I just want to yell at the teachers, ìShut the hell up with your Spanish bull shit!!!î I never do,
I just want to.
Tomorrow weíre going to Punta Leona. Iíll let you know how it is. :D
Derek Williamson
XOXOXO
Friday, June 24, 2011
A Little More.
Jeff and I decided that we were familiar enough with the city to find our way to not only the school, but also all the local sights on the way. We wanted to be more familiar with the city. It turns out that we are not in San Jose. We’re in San Pedro. It is like the Harrisville to Ogden, or the Ogden to Salt Lake City. It’s a big city still, just not nearly as big as San Jose.
Let me start over. Jeff and I thought we were familiar enough with San Pedro to allow ourselves to find the destinations we sought. Turns out we were wrong. We got turned around somehow and were somewhere that was not where we thought we were. We didn’t feel unsafe, though. We figured that if we just walked in a constant direction for long enough, we’d eventually find our way. Again, wrong. We did however find that if we took a bus to the mall, we would be at the mall. So we did. This was a much better option than taking a Taxi, as it saved us close to 4 dollars.
Classes are going well. They aren’t incredibly different from the classes at Weber State University, which is good. I was expecting something much more difficult. The best part is, our conversation class instructor is super gorgeous. He’s got a really good but that Christa and I have a great appreciation for. There are about 9 people in our class and we’re all getting to know each other really well. Even making friends in other classes during lunch time and outside the school altogether. After class, Jeff and I came home to a delicious meal of “sopa calabaza” (pumpkin soup,) and asparagus quesadillas. De. Lic. I. Ous. Our momma tika is a very good cook. After dinner, Jeff and I got drunk in our bedroom with a bottle we picked up after school at the local market. It was amazingly hilarious. We had a very deep conversation and we got to know each other. I’m really grateful that I like my roommate. Not only do I enjoy spending time with him, but he becoming a really good friend. That’s all for tonight, even though this was last night. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have more time to write and keep you all updated on Wednesday and the current day.
After classes, a bunch of us went to the movies. We figured that because it was 2 for 1 night, we could get a good cultural experience for a little price. Wrong.
Just so you all know, it is very difficult for me to keep up on my posts. For this, I apologize. My house that I'm staying at doesn't have internet, so it is exretemely difficult to get on the computer and write. I'm going to try my hardest to keep you all updated. This weekend, tomorrow actually, Saturday, we're going to Punta Leona. It is a resort or something on the Pacific coast. I'm really excited. It will be a blast! Have fun wherever you are.
XOXO
Let me start over. Jeff and I thought we were familiar enough with San Pedro to allow ourselves to find the destinations we sought. Turns out we were wrong. We got turned around somehow and were somewhere that was not where we thought we were. We didn’t feel unsafe, though. We figured that if we just walked in a constant direction for long enough, we’d eventually find our way. Again, wrong. We did however find that if we took a bus to the mall, we would be at the mall. So we did. This was a much better option than taking a Taxi, as it saved us close to 4 dollars.
Classes are going well. They aren’t incredibly different from the classes at Weber State University, which is good. I was expecting something much more difficult. The best part is, our conversation class instructor is super gorgeous. He’s got a really good but that Christa and I have a great appreciation for. There are about 9 people in our class and we’re all getting to know each other really well. Even making friends in other classes during lunch time and outside the school altogether. After class, Jeff and I came home to a delicious meal of “sopa calabaza” (pumpkin soup,) and asparagus quesadillas. De. Lic. I. Ous. Our momma tika is a very good cook. After dinner, Jeff and I got drunk in our bedroom with a bottle we picked up after school at the local market. It was amazingly hilarious. We had a very deep conversation and we got to know each other. I’m really grateful that I like my roommate. Not only do I enjoy spending time with him, but he becoming a really good friend. That’s all for tonight, even though this was last night. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have more time to write and keep you all updated on Wednesday and the current day.
After classes, a bunch of us went to the movies. We figured that because it was 2 for 1 night, we could get a good cultural experience for a little price. Wrong.
Just so you all know, it is very difficult for me to keep up on my posts. For this, I apologize. My house that I'm staying at doesn't have internet, so it is exretemely difficult to get on the computer and write. I'm going to try my hardest to keep you all updated. This weekend, tomorrow actually, Saturday, we're going to Punta Leona. It is a resort or something on the Pacific coast. I'm really excited. It will be a blast! Have fun wherever you are.
XOXO
Where We Left Off
After finding that we wanted to take a few more pictures of the natural beauty of this immaculate town, we ended up swimming in the black sand water again. This beach is called Playa Negra and is actually where we began our beach adventure. In the water, there is an old, rusted, beached barge that is home to many creepy crabs. Swimming in the water gave us the brilliant idea to do handstands. They’re always much more fun with the stability of like-weightlessness. Chelsea and I both dunked our heads under, reaching for the sand that once surrounded our feet. The sand was, up to this point, very soft to the touch, very malleable, and very kind. I had no reason to expect that to change. As soon as my left hand hit the sand, it was as I had expected. But the moment my right hand hit, there was a shiver of fear that went up my spine. Even though my eyes were closed, I could still see what I had touched. It was one of the creepy crabs from the rustic barge. It clamped its claw onto my thumb in a panicked reaction. I must have disturbed his sleep and startled him. My panicked reaction was much less angry, and far more frightful. I did my best to scream, but the sound was muffled by the water and was not carried to the surface with the bubbles I produced. I instantly came back to air, trying to hold my composure. At this point, composure was not my strong suit. I waded in the water, both trying not to touch the ground and get Chelsea’s attention. She needed to know the scary secrets the black sand contains. As soon as she declared her factory, I explained what happened. In a mixture of fright and hilarity, we ran out of the water in a giggle. She heard my scream and assumed that I was mad that I did a poor hand stand. We basically Bay-Watched (verb) the fuck out of the water, got our shit, and left.
We spent the rest of the days on the streets talking with local vendors, perusing their homemade and tourist inspired souvenirs, buying a few trinkets here and there, but mostly ignoring the offer of weed and other drugs. Apparently Puerto Viejo invented hipster. You thought you knew hipster before? Well, in comparison, you’ve probably never heard the real meaning of the word. This town is extremely laid back. Maybe that is due to the peace and tranquility the atmosphere provides, or maybe it has to do with the amount of weed the kids are slinging on the streets from their little brother’s pocket on their little brother’s bike.
As any good smoker knows, the best weed is followed by food. And while we saved our Colones (CR Currency) on the weed part of the night, some food was still in order. I forget the name of the restaurant, but the food was amazing and their drinks nothing short of strong. Not to mention we got happy hour prices! One drink leads to another, and the next thing you know, we’re in three different bars at once. Some have dancing, some have Futbol, and others have hoolahoops in the road. Where there are hoolahoops, there are also free drinks for those awesome people who adhere to general dress codes. Basically, free drinks if you weren’t wearing a shirt. I dropped that thing like it was my prom dress on prom night. And yes, free drinks are equal to losing your virginity in a budget hotel; maybe less romantic, but also less painful.
After crashing in our hotel room at about 2 in the morning, we set an alarm for 6 hours later. I fucking hate mornings. We had one hour to pack, get breakfast, and catch a bus. Easy peasy, lemon squizy. The bus ride back to San Jose was just as gut-wrenching as the bus out of San Jose. This time I remembered to take my Dramamine before riding... It didn’t help. The only thing I could do to keep from hurling chunks was sleep. So I did; I slept most of the way. But as soon as we were in San Jose, it was time to find our school. ILISA School of language. The taxi’s had a hard time finding it, but we made it there eventually. The doors to the school were locked, and there was no way of getting a hold of the director of the program who told us to be there at the exact time we arrived. Luckily, there was a nice Spanish speaking security guard that understood enough English to make a phone call for us. PURA VIDA!
I met my familia tiko today. They, of course, are my Costa Rican family. Mama, Papa, Aldofo, Lindsey, Sebastian?, Douglass, Camilla, Ian, Nick, y Vivian. The house is essentially Everybody Loves Raymond: Two or three families living under two connected roofs. It is really cool. Everyone is very nice and I’m already learning a lot.
We began with a tour, with lead to food. I love food and I was starving, so it could not have come at a better time. The banana I tried to eat earlier was just not a good mix with vom sensation. She made me a delicious salad with a shit ton of vegetables, as well as Casado (Rice and Beans). It was very good. Not two hours passed before she fed me again. I didn’t want to be rude and decline the food, and it also looked very good so I wanted to try the potato soup she prepared. I was right, it was muy racism! After dinner, Lindsey and I went to a local pub. She actually is part of the family by marriage, and comes from English speaking North Carolina. She’s incredibly helpful and very nice. I felt bad because I felt like I was doing too much talking. I was just so overwhelmed with all the experiences I’ve been having that she is my only non- Chelsea, English speaking outlet. And that leads us to here. I’m in my bed now, parallel to the bed of my sleeping roommate. His name is Jeff. He’s pretty cool, I guess. So far I like him. We actually met once at a party. He was very drunk, which means he was very hilarious. His snores make me want to sleep too. So I think I’ll do just that. Que tenga una noche Buena!
We spent the rest of the days on the streets talking with local vendors, perusing their homemade and tourist inspired souvenirs, buying a few trinkets here and there, but mostly ignoring the offer of weed and other drugs. Apparently Puerto Viejo invented hipster. You thought you knew hipster before? Well, in comparison, you’ve probably never heard the real meaning of the word. This town is extremely laid back. Maybe that is due to the peace and tranquility the atmosphere provides, or maybe it has to do with the amount of weed the kids are slinging on the streets from their little brother’s pocket on their little brother’s bike.
As any good smoker knows, the best weed is followed by food. And while we saved our Colones (CR Currency) on the weed part of the night, some food was still in order. I forget the name of the restaurant, but the food was amazing and their drinks nothing short of strong. Not to mention we got happy hour prices! One drink leads to another, and the next thing you know, we’re in three different bars at once. Some have dancing, some have Futbol, and others have hoolahoops in the road. Where there are hoolahoops, there are also free drinks for those awesome people who adhere to general dress codes. Basically, free drinks if you weren’t wearing a shirt. I dropped that thing like it was my prom dress on prom night. And yes, free drinks are equal to losing your virginity in a budget hotel; maybe less romantic, but also less painful.
After crashing in our hotel room at about 2 in the morning, we set an alarm for 6 hours later. I fucking hate mornings. We had one hour to pack, get breakfast, and catch a bus. Easy peasy, lemon squizy. The bus ride back to San Jose was just as gut-wrenching as the bus out of San Jose. This time I remembered to take my Dramamine before riding... It didn’t help. The only thing I could do to keep from hurling chunks was sleep. So I did; I slept most of the way. But as soon as we were in San Jose, it was time to find our school. ILISA School of language. The taxi’s had a hard time finding it, but we made it there eventually. The doors to the school were locked, and there was no way of getting a hold of the director of the program who told us to be there at the exact time we arrived. Luckily, there was a nice Spanish speaking security guard that understood enough English to make a phone call for us. PURA VIDA!
I met my familia tiko today. They, of course, are my Costa Rican family. Mama, Papa, Aldofo, Lindsey, Sebastian?, Douglass, Camilla, Ian, Nick, y Vivian. The house is essentially Everybody Loves Raymond: Two or three families living under two connected roofs. It is really cool. Everyone is very nice and I’m already learning a lot.
We began with a tour, with lead to food. I love food and I was starving, so it could not have come at a better time. The banana I tried to eat earlier was just not a good mix with vom sensation. She made me a delicious salad with a shit ton of vegetables, as well as Casado (Rice and Beans). It was very good. Not two hours passed before she fed me again. I didn’t want to be rude and decline the food, and it also looked very good so I wanted to try the potato soup she prepared. I was right, it was muy racism! After dinner, Lindsey and I went to a local pub. She actually is part of the family by marriage, and comes from English speaking North Carolina. She’s incredibly helpful and very nice. I felt bad because I felt like I was doing too much talking. I was just so overwhelmed with all the experiences I’ve been having that she is my only non- Chelsea, English speaking outlet. And that leads us to here. I’m in my bed now, parallel to the bed of my sleeping roommate. His name is Jeff. He’s pretty cool, I guess. So far I like him. We actually met once at a party. He was very drunk, which means he was very hilarious. His snores make me want to sleep too. So I think I’ll do just that. Que tenga una noche Buena!
Sunday, June 19, 2011
To Be Continued...
Puerto Viejo is amazing. We woke up a little hung over yesterday, but nothing a little water/coffee/fruit cannot fix. It's very unfortunate. This place gives me the shits. I pooped 4 times before noon yesterday. But I refuse to let that get in the way of my adventure!
We spent the better part of the day on the beach. The ocean and jungles here are beautiful! Absolutely gorgeous. We walked the coast and found several beaches that were to our liking. We played in the water, jumping and punching waves, and just having a fun time swimming. After the beach, we walked barefoot to our lunch. It was thin crust Costa Rican pizza. Not very good... But not very expensive, either!
There is a shit ton more to come, so I'll be editing this very post in a few hours. I just wanted to get a few thoughts down right now.
Pura Vida!
Stay tuned.
We spent the better part of the day on the beach. The ocean and jungles here are beautiful! Absolutely gorgeous. We walked the coast and found several beaches that were to our liking. We played in the water, jumping and punching waves, and just having a fun time swimming. After the beach, we walked barefoot to our lunch. It was thin crust Costa Rican pizza. Not very good... But not very expensive, either!
There is a shit ton more to come, so I'll be editing this very post in a few hours. I just wanted to get a few thoughts down right now.
Pura Vida!
Stay tuned.
Friday, June 17, 2011
2 for 1
We went to sleep early last night. We had the idea that spending all day on a plane had exhausted all of our energy. While that was true, going to sleep at 5 pm was not the best idea. A good sleep on a great plane makes up for a lot of energy loss. I had a difficult time staying asleep. I slept, but only for a few hours at a time. The heat definitely got to me. I would continuously wake up in a dry sweat ready for an adventure of some sort. That adventure eventually turned into watching the rest of The Terminal. Chelsea and I began watching it on our wait for the Atlanta plane. I'd never seen the movie all the way through. I laughed. A lot. I hope I didn't make her stir too much.
After waking up at about 7:40, we quickly prepared ourselves for our first Costa Rican breakfast. Sadly, it was a disappointment. It consisted in eggs and toast. Any person could order the same plate in any American Diner. But not to worry, the day was young. And we had a bit of exploring to do before our bus took us to the Caribbean side of the country. After making a few toiletry purchases in a local "tienda," we made our way back to our hotel. Because The Hotel Inca Real is in the heart of San Jose, there are plenty of security measures. For instance, there was a metal gate at the entrance to the structure with an electronic opening mechanism. After the store, we found ourselves locked outside the metal gate. No one around to buzz us in. This was especially frustrating considering our bus was scheduled to leave not 20 minutes after discovering our dilemma. Eventually, after much yelling, in both English, Spanish, and Physical gestures and noises, a Maid-of-sorts came to our rescue.
After finally getting to the bus station, still on time for our 10 a.m. bus, we find that it is full and we have to wait for the 12 p.m. Bull shit. Fuck that. We wait despite our prostest. In an attempt to kill time, we both read and explore the bus station, as it is filled with many little gift shops. I bought a Ben 10 watch, but Chelsea just looked around. As the time passed, I couldn't help getting more and more enthralled with the book I picked by it's cover. Grave Surprise. I forget the author, Bridget will know, but I forget. And while it is just on the bed next to the one Chelsea and I are resting, but as you can tell, I am far to lazy. I suppose the drunk is to blame. Oh, by the way, the bus took us to a town on the Caribbean side called, " Puerta Viejo." This translates to Old Port, not too dissimilar to New Port. Regardless of its meaning, we are having a blast. Much less scary and confusing than San Jose. I wish our School was here. The language barrier is minuscule in comparison. The tree's, ocean, and general scenery is much more better.
We checked into our awesomely beach-like hotel called Casa Verde (Green House). This place resembles the Swiss Family Robinson's interpretation of a good nights sleep in this day and age. The beds are a different bread, and Chelsea feels confident that her sleep will be infinitely better than the last. I fear the beer tower she made will disturb us in our slumber. That won't be very conducive to our sleep, but as they say, "When in Rome, build a tower of beer. Local beer." We had dinner at a restaurant called Stahus: it proved very difficult to find considering it recently changed its name from El Loco Natural. We wandered the streets in search of a lost name. Luckily an English speaking German lady was kind enough to help. God bless Germany. I ordered vegetarian tacos, and Chelsea sea bass shit. Both delicious in our respected opinions. I also ordered a beer called Imperial. It is brewed here in Costa Rica. Delicious. It is the equivalent to Bud. Considering the amount of dark beer that I've ingested lately, simple and delicious is refreshing.
After our confusing predicament of the bill (we didn't know what the hell we were supposed to do; we were Costa Rican restaurant virgins,) we searched the streets for our longed intoxication. We deserve a good drunk; navigating a foreign country isn't easy. We found a Cantina with all-night-Happy-Hour. Best. Invention. Ever. Our buzz led to the purchase of a small bottle of local rum. Which, in turn, led to our underwater secrets in the (possibly) closed hotel pool. Our relationship is strong. And it is only getting stronger. I love this girl very much. We're sitting here, on her bed; she gets the bigger bed because I got the last one. I'm going to stop writing now, she's growing sleepy. A drunk, sleepy Chelsea is not as much fun as a giggly, drunk Chelsea.
Again,
Derek Williamson
XOXOXOXO
After waking up at about 7:40, we quickly prepared ourselves for our first Costa Rican breakfast. Sadly, it was a disappointment. It consisted in eggs and toast. Any person could order the same plate in any American Diner. But not to worry, the day was young. And we had a bit of exploring to do before our bus took us to the Caribbean side of the country. After making a few toiletry purchases in a local "tienda," we made our way back to our hotel. Because The Hotel Inca Real is in the heart of San Jose, there are plenty of security measures. For instance, there was a metal gate at the entrance to the structure with an electronic opening mechanism. After the store, we found ourselves locked outside the metal gate. No one around to buzz us in. This was especially frustrating considering our bus was scheduled to leave not 20 minutes after discovering our dilemma. Eventually, after much yelling, in both English, Spanish, and Physical gestures and noises, a Maid-of-sorts came to our rescue.
After finally getting to the bus station, still on time for our 10 a.m. bus, we find that it is full and we have to wait for the 12 p.m. Bull shit. Fuck that. We wait despite our prostest. In an attempt to kill time, we both read and explore the bus station, as it is filled with many little gift shops. I bought a Ben 10 watch, but Chelsea just looked around. As the time passed, I couldn't help getting more and more enthralled with the book I picked by it's cover. Grave Surprise. I forget the author, Bridget will know, but I forget. And while it is just on the bed next to the one Chelsea and I are resting, but as you can tell, I am far to lazy. I suppose the drunk is to blame. Oh, by the way, the bus took us to a town on the Caribbean side called, " Puerta Viejo." This translates to Old Port, not too dissimilar to New Port. Regardless of its meaning, we are having a blast. Much less scary and confusing than San Jose. I wish our School was here. The language barrier is minuscule in comparison. The tree's, ocean, and general scenery is much more better.
We checked into our awesomely beach-like hotel called Casa Verde (Green House). This place resembles the Swiss Family Robinson's interpretation of a good nights sleep in this day and age. The beds are a different bread, and Chelsea feels confident that her sleep will be infinitely better than the last. I fear the beer tower she made will disturb us in our slumber. That won't be very conducive to our sleep, but as they say, "When in Rome, build a tower of beer. Local beer." We had dinner at a restaurant called Stahus: it proved very difficult to find considering it recently changed its name from El Loco Natural. We wandered the streets in search of a lost name. Luckily an English speaking German lady was kind enough to help. God bless Germany. I ordered vegetarian tacos, and Chelsea sea bass shit. Both delicious in our respected opinions. I also ordered a beer called Imperial. It is brewed here in Costa Rica. Delicious. It is the equivalent to Bud. Considering the amount of dark beer that I've ingested lately, simple and delicious is refreshing.
After our confusing predicament of the bill (we didn't know what the hell we were supposed to do; we were Costa Rican restaurant virgins,) we searched the streets for our longed intoxication. We deserve a good drunk; navigating a foreign country isn't easy. We found a Cantina with all-night-Happy-Hour. Best. Invention. Ever. Our buzz led to the purchase of a small bottle of local rum. Which, in turn, led to our underwater secrets in the (possibly) closed hotel pool. Our relationship is strong. And it is only getting stronger. I love this girl very much. We're sitting here, on her bed; she gets the bigger bed because I got the last one. I'm going to stop writing now, she's growing sleepy. A drunk, sleepy Chelsea is not as much fun as a giggly, drunk Chelsea.
Again,
Derek Williamson
XOXOXOXO
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Not Till the Sky. Again.
Well, here we are. San Jose, Costa Rica. Chelsea and I caught the Red Eye flight out of SLC to Atlanta after I rode the Front Runner down to SLC. We began our international trek as soon as her TBS concert was complete. Being all sweaty for a flight out of the country was not her most brilliant move, but she made it none the less. We just barely made it on that flight. You see, we are flying standby and it is all about what is available. And because we were at the bottom of the list, it was a great possibility that we would spend many hours in the airport. Luckily, that was not the case. It was confusing, but we finally got our seats. Unfortunately we did not sit next to each other, instead we were a few seats apart and on different rows. She appeared to be sleeping the entire way, but I couldn’t get a single dream in. I sat in between a man who may have been dead (he didn’t move the entire flight) and a lady who moved like her seat was burning her ass. It was annoying. I hate middle seats.
As soon as we landed in Atlanta, we were on a quest to find our gate for our connection to Costa Rica. We found a weird in-port train that took us just a few gates away from ours. Once at the right gate, we just waited until something happened. Luckily, the list of Standby flyers was lower for this flight. After taking a little terminal nap on a few connected seats, we awoke to the sound of our names being called. It was the Delta man and he wanted to approve our travels. When the plane finally began to board, we were confused on where we were to sit. Turns out, we got first class. I’ve never been so excited to fly. We were quickly greeted with a mimosa, a little pillow, and a collection of comical flight attendants.
The second flight was a much more smooth process. I decided to take some Dramamine for my restless tummy that kept shifting and contorting on the trip before. It probably would have worked better had I not participated in the complimentary booze. The take off was just as frightening as the first, except this time I was ready for what was to come, and knew what to expect. I didn’t have to repeat to myself, “You know why? Because I had my training table up, and my seat back in its full, upright position,” or “Destination. Determination. Deliberation.” I like to think that those two phrases help fearful flyers survive.
With the luxury of first class at our hands, sleeping was no feat this time. I slept through most of it and only woke to eat he delicious pasta dinner they placed in front of me. First class kicks ass! What was (is) a challenge, however, is San Jose. It is scary here. The taxi driver was trying his hardest to communicate with us, but he eventually gave up and turned on the radio. The bank tellers are even more confusing. “Mas poquito colones, por favor.” This is the phrase used to get smaller bills. Learning!
Well, I’m exhausted. I feel as though there has been too much flying for one day. It’s good I don’t still have the trace on me otherwise the ministry would be pissed. Sleep well, America. And I’ll try to do the same.
As always,
Derek Williamson
XOXOXO
As soon as we landed in Atlanta, we were on a quest to find our gate for our connection to Costa Rica. We found a weird in-port train that took us just a few gates away from ours. Once at the right gate, we just waited until something happened. Luckily, the list of Standby flyers was lower for this flight. After taking a little terminal nap on a few connected seats, we awoke to the sound of our names being called. It was the Delta man and he wanted to approve our travels. When the plane finally began to board, we were confused on where we were to sit. Turns out, we got first class. I’ve never been so excited to fly. We were quickly greeted with a mimosa, a little pillow, and a collection of comical flight attendants.
The second flight was a much more smooth process. I decided to take some Dramamine for my restless tummy that kept shifting and contorting on the trip before. It probably would have worked better had I not participated in the complimentary booze. The take off was just as frightening as the first, except this time I was ready for what was to come, and knew what to expect. I didn’t have to repeat to myself, “You know why? Because I had my training table up, and my seat back in its full, upright position,” or “Destination. Determination. Deliberation.” I like to think that those two phrases help fearful flyers survive.
With the luxury of first class at our hands, sleeping was no feat this time. I slept through most of it and only woke to eat he delicious pasta dinner they placed in front of me. First class kicks ass! What was (is) a challenge, however, is San Jose. It is scary here. The taxi driver was trying his hardest to communicate with us, but he eventually gave up and turned on the radio. The bank tellers are even more confusing. “Mas poquito colones, por favor.” This is the phrase used to get smaller bills. Learning!
Well, I’m exhausted. I feel as though there has been too much flying for one day. It’s good I don’t still have the trace on me otherwise the ministry would be pissed. Sleep well, America. And I’ll try to do the same.
As always,
Derek Williamson
XOXOXO
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Falling Apart or Coming Together.
It was my brilliant idea to wait until the day I leave to pack. This way I can wash all the clothes I've worn over the week and put them in my zipped bag. Bad idea. We're out of laundry detergent. Who's idea was this??? I'm terrified I'm going to forget something. Something big like my passport, flight bullshit, or my insanity. Who ever invented packing is a dick.
I've spent some time with some of the people that are important to me (definitely not all of them)these last few days. I'm getting to the point of not wanting to go. I know it is only a month, and I know with all the fun I'll be having it is them who envy me, but I cannot help but feel like it's their life I want. They get to stay around each other. And more importantly, they get to see Harry Potter at the premier! I want that. More than anything.
I met a girl named Chloe at the orientation the other day. Which by the way, for something as exciting as Costa Rica, the orientation was fuck-boring. Like, really really boring! And they didn't even provide us with food. Those bitches. Just kidding, Professor (if you're reading...). Regardless, Chloe said she loved Harry Potter and I instantly latched onto her hand in desperate desperation. I needed to know how much. We're in the clear as far as that goes. She's in Gryffindor ~!COUbandwagonGH~! We'll be seeing the premier in Costa Rica if they show it. I sure as hell hope they do. I will not be bringing my Hufflepuff threads for nothing.
Alright, well that's all I have for today. Wish me luck on my flight tonight. I probably won't write back until Sunday or so.
Derek Williamson
XOXO
I've spent some time with some of the people that are important to me (definitely not all of them)these last few days. I'm getting to the point of not wanting to go. I know it is only a month, and I know with all the fun I'll be having it is them who envy me, but I cannot help but feel like it's their life I want. They get to stay around each other. And more importantly, they get to see Harry Potter at the premier! I want that. More than anything.
I met a girl named Chloe at the orientation the other day. Which by the way, for something as exciting as Costa Rica, the orientation was fuck-boring. Like, really really boring! And they didn't even provide us with food. Those bitches. Just kidding, Professor (if you're reading...). Regardless, Chloe said she loved Harry Potter and I instantly latched onto her hand in desperate desperation. I needed to know how much. We're in the clear as far as that goes. She's in Gryffindor ~!COUbandwagonGH~! We'll be seeing the premier in Costa Rica if they show it. I sure as hell hope they do. I will not be bringing my Hufflepuff threads for nothing.
Alright, well that's all I have for today. Wish me luck on my flight tonight. I probably won't write back until Sunday or so.
Derek Williamson
XOXO
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
A Lot Like Them.
In Costa Rica, and a lot of surrounding countries, Pura Vida is a common phrase. It literally translates to "Good Life." Of course, because of this translation, the Costa Rican people use it as loosely as we would say "Right on," or "Cool beans." Or maybe a bit more considering it is the 90's no longer...
Some Costa Rican facts are sure to be in order. Note: I am just going to cut and paste them from our Abroad Facebook page because I think that will be considerably easier.
Did you know that Costa Ricans have a life expectancy of 76 years. The literacy rate is almost 97% making CR one of the highest in Latin America if not the highest. The length of the Pacific coastline is about 650 miles and the length of the Atlantic (Caribbean) coastline is about 135 miles. Costa Rica is among the countries with the highest amount of protected land in the world; 25% of the national territory is dedicated to the national park system or biological, marine and land reserves, as well as other natural wildlife areas. Pura Vida!
Did you know that Costa Rica doesn't have a military and is the only country in Latin America that does not. Now that's pretty cool. They do have a national police force that acts as a para military force but very, very small and with no visible presence. Costa Rica uses money and resources, that it would otherwise use for a strong military force, to support lots of social programs like medicine, education, the environment and other infrastructures. Imagine how we could help, strengthen and support other agencies here in the US if we could use our military budget to do so!!
Did you know that Oscar Arias, who was President of Costa Rica two times, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1987 for his efforts to bring harmony and stability to all the Central American countries. His award and medal are on display in the National Museum in San Jose. He is recognized as one of Costa Rica's most important and influencial men in Latin America. We will visit the National Museum on one of our excursions.
Did you know that Costa Rican coffee has been recognized as among the world's finest for over 150 years. It is not, however, native to Costa Rica. It was introduced to the country when arabica seeds were brought over by the Spanish from Africa and the Middle East in 1808. The temperate climate and fruitful volcanic soil of the Central Valley proved to be the perfect environment for coffee's infant stages in Costa Rica, and it swiftly became the country's main export. As we now know, coffee is no longer CR's main export but figures in the top 5. You coffee drinkers are going to just love being in CR for a month! Pura Vida.
Did you know that the Patron Saint of Costa Rica is a Black Madonna known as "La Negrita", a sacred black stone of the Virgin Mary. And, every August 2, in a land of 4,000,000 people, hundreds of thousands (some estimates reach 2,000,000) pilgrimage---many on foot---from across the country to a Catholic church in Cartago, Costa Rica containing this ancient relic.
Every second day of August, in a country of a little over four million, hundreds of thousands of the faithful make a pilgrimage to the Basilica de Nuestra Señora de Los Ángeles, considered by the Vatican so holy that a visit would expiate all sins. Follow the following link to learn more about "La Negrita". http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.costarica-discover-it.com%2Flanegrita.html&h=3a424
Did you know that on many a street corner in Costa Rica "pipas" are sold. They are from the coconut family but aren't the coconuts that we eat in the USA. You buy a "pipa" to drink its nutritional "agua" which is great to quench your thirst and great for its overall health benefits. When you buy a "pipa" the vendor will cut off the top of it and then give it to you with a straw to drink. Great stuff. I hope you will try some while you are in Costa Rica. Here's a link to learn more about the "pipa".
Did you know that your family will probably serve you a plate of fresh fruit every morning for breakfast. Some of the fresh fruit will be pineapple, mango, bananas, cantaloupe, watermelon, star fruit, papaya and other tropical fruit that's in season. You will also see lots of different fruits being sold on the street stands that you have never eaten before. I recommend that you try the "mamón chino" which is a pinkish-reddish fruit that is round like a jawbreaker and has small tentacles growing on the outside of it. It looks creepy-crawly! Yummy.
Did you know that one of the most popular and nutritional dishes in Costa Rica, and one that you will probably eat a lot of and really enjoy, is called the "casado". Casado means marriage or married and it gets its name for the perfect marriage/combination of all of the ingredients. It consists of rice and beans, meat or fish, fried plantains, and a carrot, tomato, and cabbage salad served with a fresh fruit drink. This basic and well-rounded meal strikes a perfect nutritional balance. ¡Qué delicioso y sabroso! The cafeteria at our language school will prepare this dish every day for those who want it.
Did you know that Costa Rica has 112 volcanoes and 10 are still active. Wow! We will see one of the most active volcanoes called Arenal. Hopefully we will be able to feel it burp or erupt a little. We will be soaking in the thermal hot springs that originate from this active volcano. Pura Vida!
Did you know that Costa Rica's seasons are defined by how much rain falls during a particular period and not by the four seasons here in the USA. The year can be split into two periods, the dry season known to the residents (ticos) as summer, and the rainy season, known locally as winter. The "summer" or dry season goes from December to April, and "winter" or rainy season goes from May to November, which almost coincides with the Atlantic hurricane season, and during this time it rains constantly in some regions. We will be there during the winter or rainy season!! Plan on buying a good umbrella in CR.
Did you know that Costa Rica is divided into seven (7) provinces for social and political purposes. They are: San Jose, Heredia, Alajuela, Cartago, Limon, Punta Arenas and Guanacaste. Government officials are elected every four years during the month of February and Costa Ricans have to be 19 years old or older to vote. Costa Ricans celebrate their national independence from Spain on the 15 of September of each year.
Did you know that the name of the current President of Costa Rica is Laura Chinchilla and she was elected on May 8, 2010 (first woman President of CR). The population of CR is 4.5 million and the majority of these inhabitants live in San Jose. Costa Rica is bordered on the north by Nicaragua and on the south by Panama. The major roadway that traverses CR from border to border is the Pan- American Highway (actually, the highway starts in Alaska and end in the southern part of Chile!). Review these facts so that you can talk about them with your families.
Did you know that the national flower of Costa Rica is the Guaria Morada, a beautiful purple orchid. The national bird of CR is the Yiguirro, a clay colored robin whose melodious calls signal the beginning of the rainy season. The national tree is the Guanacaste tree which means "tree of the ears" because its fruit looks like human ears. Costa Rica lies between the Pacific and Atlantic oceans so it's no wonder that CR is known for its beaufitul, prestine beaches. Knowing these facts about Costa Rica will endear you to your families with whom you will be staying. Pura Vida! (which, by the way, is the national motto of CR).
Did you know that you just completed all the facts in this post? Thanks for bearing with me. You're a trooper. Anyway, as they say, Pure life!
Some Costa Rican facts are sure to be in order. Note: I am just going to cut and paste them from our Abroad Facebook page because I think that will be considerably easier.
Did you know that Costa Ricans have a life expectancy of 76 years. The literacy rate is almost 97% making CR one of the highest in Latin America if not the highest. The length of the Pacific coastline is about 650 miles and the length of the Atlantic (Caribbean) coastline is about 135 miles. Costa Rica is among the countries with the highest amount of protected land in the world; 25% of the national territory is dedicated to the national park system or biological, marine and land reserves, as well as other natural wildlife areas. Pura Vida!
Did you know that Costa Rica doesn't have a military and is the only country in Latin America that does not. Now that's pretty cool. They do have a national police force that acts as a para military force but very, very small and with no visible presence. Costa Rica uses money and resources, that it would otherwise use for a strong military force, to support lots of social programs like medicine, education, the environment and other infrastructures. Imagine how we could help, strengthen and support other agencies here in the US if we could use our military budget to do so!!
Did you know that Oscar Arias, who was President of Costa Rica two times, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1987 for his efforts to bring harmony and stability to all the Central American countries. His award and medal are on display in the National Museum in San Jose. He is recognized as one of Costa Rica's most important and influencial men in Latin America. We will visit the National Museum on one of our excursions.
Did you know that Costa Rican coffee has been recognized as among the world's finest for over 150 years. It is not, however, native to Costa Rica. It was introduced to the country when arabica seeds were brought over by the Spanish from Africa and the Middle East in 1808. The temperate climate and fruitful volcanic soil of the Central Valley proved to be the perfect environment for coffee's infant stages in Costa Rica, and it swiftly became the country's main export. As we now know, coffee is no longer CR's main export but figures in the top 5. You coffee drinkers are going to just love being in CR for a month! Pura Vida.
Did you know that the Patron Saint of Costa Rica is a Black Madonna known as "La Negrita", a sacred black stone of the Virgin Mary. And, every August 2, in a land of 4,000,000 people, hundreds of thousands (some estimates reach 2,000,000) pilgrimage---many on foot---from across the country to a Catholic church in Cartago, Costa Rica containing this ancient relic.
Every second day of August, in a country of a little over four million, hundreds of thousands of the faithful make a pilgrimage to the Basilica de Nuestra Señora de Los Ángeles, considered by the Vatican so holy that a visit would expiate all sins. Follow the following link to learn more about "La Negrita". http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.costarica-discover-it.com%2Flanegrita.html&h=3a424
Did you know that on many a street corner in Costa Rica "pipas" are sold. They are from the coconut family but aren't the coconuts that we eat in the USA. You buy a "pipa" to drink its nutritional "agua" which is great to quench your thirst and great for its overall health benefits. When you buy a "pipa" the vendor will cut off the top of it and then give it to you with a straw to drink. Great stuff. I hope you will try some while you are in Costa Rica. Here's a link to learn more about the "pipa".
Did you know that your family will probably serve you a plate of fresh fruit every morning for breakfast. Some of the fresh fruit will be pineapple, mango, bananas, cantaloupe, watermelon, star fruit, papaya and other tropical fruit that's in season. You will also see lots of different fruits being sold on the street stands that you have never eaten before. I recommend that you try the "mamón chino" which is a pinkish-reddish fruit that is round like a jawbreaker and has small tentacles growing on the outside of it. It looks creepy-crawly! Yummy.
Did you know that one of the most popular and nutritional dishes in Costa Rica, and one that you will probably eat a lot of and really enjoy, is called the "casado". Casado means marriage or married and it gets its name for the perfect marriage/combination of all of the ingredients. It consists of rice and beans, meat or fish, fried plantains, and a carrot, tomato, and cabbage salad served with a fresh fruit drink. This basic and well-rounded meal strikes a perfect nutritional balance. ¡Qué delicioso y sabroso! The cafeteria at our language school will prepare this dish every day for those who want it.
Did you know that Costa Rica has 112 volcanoes and 10 are still active. Wow! We will see one of the most active volcanoes called Arenal. Hopefully we will be able to feel it burp or erupt a little. We will be soaking in the thermal hot springs that originate from this active volcano. Pura Vida!
Did you know that Costa Rica's seasons are defined by how much rain falls during a particular period and not by the four seasons here in the USA. The year can be split into two periods, the dry season known to the residents (ticos) as summer, and the rainy season, known locally as winter. The "summer" or dry season goes from December to April, and "winter" or rainy season goes from May to November, which almost coincides with the Atlantic hurricane season, and during this time it rains constantly in some regions. We will be there during the winter or rainy season!! Plan on buying a good umbrella in CR.
Did you know that Costa Rica is divided into seven (7) provinces for social and political purposes. They are: San Jose, Heredia, Alajuela, Cartago, Limon, Punta Arenas and Guanacaste. Government officials are elected every four years during the month of February and Costa Ricans have to be 19 years old or older to vote. Costa Ricans celebrate their national independence from Spain on the 15 of September of each year.
Did you know that the name of the current President of Costa Rica is Laura Chinchilla and she was elected on May 8, 2010 (first woman President of CR). The population of CR is 4.5 million and the majority of these inhabitants live in San Jose. Costa Rica is bordered on the north by Nicaragua and on the south by Panama. The major roadway that traverses CR from border to border is the Pan- American Highway (actually, the highway starts in Alaska and end in the southern part of Chile!). Review these facts so that you can talk about them with your families.
Did you know that the national flower of Costa Rica is the Guaria Morada, a beautiful purple orchid. The national bird of CR is the Yiguirro, a clay colored robin whose melodious calls signal the beginning of the rainy season. The national tree is the Guanacaste tree which means "tree of the ears" because its fruit looks like human ears. Costa Rica lies between the Pacific and Atlantic oceans so it's no wonder that CR is known for its beaufitul, prestine beaches. Knowing these facts about Costa Rica will endear you to your families with whom you will be staying. Pura Vida! (which, by the way, is the national motto of CR).
Did you know that you just completed all the facts in this post? Thanks for bearing with me. You're a trooper. Anyway, as they say, Pure life!
Monday, June 13, 2011
Don't Panic.
In the event that you were nervous that you wouldn't be hearing about my adventures abroad, chill the fuck out. I'll be posting shit here about 5 times a week. That way you can read up on all the adventures I'm having and how much I hate when people speak different languages to me. But it's all good, at least I can bargain my way out of risky business [insert tube socks].
The time is nearly here and the packing is about to commence. I will probably wait until Wednesday to pack; I want to continue wearing all my awesome clothes before putting them in sealed bags. Speaking of bags, Bridget and I shopped for a good seven hours today looking for a cute messenger bag that was perfect. Despite our diligence, we were not successful. We did however find some really cool books. I find it pointless to say, but I will none the less: I judge books by their covers and I found pretty covers to read the pages within whilst flying from place to place.
On the subject of flight... We're flying standby. Risky, yes. Adventure, yes. Winner? Adventure. We have a flight that we're likely to catch on Thursday morning (one A.M.). If we don't catch it, we'll find another way to get to Atlantic City. Once we're there, flying to Costa Rica will prove much more simple. Hopefully.
I'm really looking forward to this trip, but I'm also scared shitless. Wish me luck.
Pura vida!
The time is nearly here and the packing is about to commence. I will probably wait until Wednesday to pack; I want to continue wearing all my awesome clothes before putting them in sealed bags. Speaking of bags, Bridget and I shopped for a good seven hours today looking for a cute messenger bag that was perfect. Despite our diligence, we were not successful. We did however find some really cool books. I find it pointless to say, but I will none the less: I judge books by their covers and I found pretty covers to read the pages within whilst flying from place to place.
On the subject of flight... We're flying standby. Risky, yes. Adventure, yes. Winner? Adventure. We have a flight that we're likely to catch on Thursday morning (one A.M.). If we don't catch it, we'll find another way to get to Atlantic City. Once we're there, flying to Costa Rica will prove much more simple. Hopefully.
I'm really looking forward to this trip, but I'm also scared shitless. Wish me luck.
Pura vida!
Thursday, June 9, 2011
A Baby Solves All of Life's Problems.
Here's the scoop: Brother gets divorce, brother gets girl friend pregnant. But not in that order... Regardless of how it went down, it went down. Honestly, I laughed when I was told he was pregnant. I thought it was hilarious. Then I started thinking about the baby. My usual baby thoughts aside, I began to feel bad for her/him. He/she would be brought up in a shotgun family. No one likes that idea.
Things actually are better than I thought they would be. When I moved out in the fall, the couple commandeered my bedroom in the house--making it their own. Immediately painting the walls grey after having them Red/Green/Yellow/Blue for so long, moving in their shit, and even decorating with stupid flowers, etc. They made a space for their new family, inside a family that already existed. I'm a bit surprised to say that it is working. The baby has since been born, and is now going on two months of age. She's a quiet baby, which is exactly what I was hoping for, but not expecting. The only time she bothers me is when someone wakes up at what-ever-the-fuck-in-the-morning and rocks her back and forth in their arms. The swaying from side to side makes the floor above me creak. Fuck that shit-I hate it!
My feelings on children are generic. They're stinky, loud, and they don't contribute anything to society. Lilee poops a lot, but I'm told it doesn't stink yet. She hardly ever cries, and when she does I can usually calm her down by just moving around a little bit. Although, It proves more challenging to relax her when she's hungry. Hell hath no fury like a baby who's hungry. It is true, however, that she just sits there. To be fair, she isn't old enough to get a job and bring in some real family income, so I guess I can't recent her for that. I actually like that she doesn't move around a lot. It makes it easier to hold her. Speaking of which, I love to hold her. She's so goddamn cute! She watches me watch cartoons, eat cheese, and make silly faces at her. But mostly she just watches which ever light bulb is closest to her.
I have to say, I love that she lives here. I love being able to hold my pretty pretty Monkee every day. She's one beautiful baby girl.
Things actually are better than I thought they would be. When I moved out in the fall, the couple commandeered my bedroom in the house--making it their own. Immediately painting the walls grey after having them Red/Green/Yellow/Blue for so long, moving in their shit, and even decorating with stupid flowers, etc. They made a space for their new family, inside a family that already existed. I'm a bit surprised to say that it is working. The baby has since been born, and is now going on two months of age. She's a quiet baby, which is exactly what I was hoping for, but not expecting. The only time she bothers me is when someone wakes up at what-ever-the-fuck-in-the-morning and rocks her back and forth in their arms. The swaying from side to side makes the floor above me creak. Fuck that shit-I hate it!
My feelings on children are generic. They're stinky, loud, and they don't contribute anything to society. Lilee poops a lot, but I'm told it doesn't stink yet. She hardly ever cries, and when she does I can usually calm her down by just moving around a little bit. Although, It proves more challenging to relax her when she's hungry. Hell hath no fury like a baby who's hungry. It is true, however, that she just sits there. To be fair, she isn't old enough to get a job and bring in some real family income, so I guess I can't recent her for that. I actually like that she doesn't move around a lot. It makes it easier to hold her. Speaking of which, I love to hold her. She's so goddamn cute! She watches me watch cartoons, eat cheese, and make silly faces at her. But mostly she just watches which ever light bulb is closest to her.
I have to say, I love that she lives here. I love being able to hold my pretty pretty Monkee every day. She's one beautiful baby girl.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Working together to make me me. Chapter 1.
1. Peanut butter must be put on the bread first. Bridget likes to put the jelly on before, but I find that dumb.
2. I like my hangers to all be made of plastic. But not the ones that you get for free with new shirts, but the ones that come in different colors. If they have a top that spins, it is double no good. Sometimes I even match the hanger to the color of shirt.
3. I get upset, apparently, when a slow pitch soft ball team isn't wearing matching uniforms. This makes me uncomfortable.
4. My biggest pet peeve is when some asshole flicks their cigarette butt out the window of their car. This drives me to contemplated murder.
5. I cannot dry my freshly washed hands with the towel on the kitchen counter. It must be clean and in the drawer. After using it, I fold it and put it back; it is still clean.
6. I correct grammar on signs and billboards out-loud. I'm sure people get annoyed by this, but the annoyance I create for them is minor to the bother I feel for peoples lazy ignorance.
7. I have a shit-ton of ties. I wear maybe 5 of them.
8. I can't go into certain stores because I have no willpower once I cross their threshold. Even if I have a budget.
9. My favorite things are sometimes the plainest. For example: My favorite ice cream is Vanilla Bean.
10. If I see people moving their toes, I must move mine. If I see people not moving their toes, I must move mine. The latter reactions is to secure the notion of their existence, and the former is competition to see who's toes are more dexterous.
11. I spray my cologne in three different places on my body. One on the lower part of my neck in the front, one in the same spot in the rear, and one on my crotch. I heard somewhere that it makes your crotch more appealing...
12. Sometimes I obsess over cute boys to the point of depression. For example, in Denver this past weekend, we saw a very attractive man driving a bicycle rickshaw. We named him Rick. I cannot stop thinking about him, and yet, he will never grace my vision again.
13. I once conditioned myself to get into the right lane when a certain road split in two. And although I no longer live in the direction the right lane would take me, I still manage to make a loud noise of a random sort, and do a body gesture that one could only describe as crazy.
14. I played house by myself at age 16 because no one would play with me. That was the same age that I decided to stop playing. Worst decision ever.
15. Sometimes I pretend to be more masculine than I am to fit in. I fear that people won't accept me if they know what/how/who I really am. I don't want to do this, and I feel shamed after doing so, but sure enough, I do it none the less.
16. I'll go anywhere for the adventure. Just say the magic word.
17. I use the idea of me being an alcoholic to drink more. Drinking is fun.
18. When presented with a costume opportunity, I work too hard on what I want to look like. Especially considering no one else EVER puts that much effort into an impromptu costume. I usually look the best though. A friend once said, "It's a weird day when you have to dress like a pirate because you're afraid you won't fit in if you don't."
19. I HAVE to make it to #20 before finishing this post. If I don't, I'll feel incomplete. And if I get to #20 and think of more, then it will become #25 or #30.
20. Made it! I connect most everything in reality to something from Harry Potter because I'm just that awesome.
I'm sure there is more, but it will just have to be for another post.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Bitches are shit.
Ok, let me break it down. Gryffindor's dicks! They're reckless, arrogant, stupid dicks. And Ravenclaw's are pussies. And any and every Slytherin is an asshole. Ravenclaw's don't like dicks, because Ravenclaw's get fucked by dicks. But dicks also fuck assholes: assholes that just want to shit on everything (you). Pussies may think they can deal with assholes their way. But the only thing that can fuck an asshole is a dick, with some balls. The problem with dicks is: they fuck too much or fuck when it isn't appropriate - and it takes a pussy to show them that. But sometimes, pussies can be so full of shit that they become assholes themselves... because pussies are an inch and half away from ass holes. I don't know much about this crazy, crazy world, but I do know this: If it weren't for Hufflepuff(Boobies), everyone would just fuck each other and get covered in shit. Thank god for foreplay. Thank god for Hufflepuff. Plus boobs are funny, and so are we.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
A broken promise is just as bad as a rotten pancake.
You never called. I was expecting it. I am sure you either had good reason, or simply forgot. Either way, it would have been nice to hear your voice again.
I apologize for last night. I was drunk, and it wasn’t fair to make you feel guilty.
The truth is—I miss you. A lot. I think about you every day. I made it seem like I know what I want and that what I want is different from what you think I want. But that isn’t necessarily true. I would love to have never broken up, to have built our relationship a year stronger than it was, and to still be able to see you on Sundays and Thursdays. I realize that this is an impossible measure, especially now. But what I want is a living feeling. It is always changing. I never know exactly what I want until I don’t have it.
My proposition is this: We don’t date. I don’t like dates anyway, so this isn’t a problem. It is the time in our lives when we finally fucking hang out. I mean that! Either just the two of us, we and the cute couple you live with, or whoever! I’m ready to be in your life again, but more importantly, I’m ready for you to be in mine.
So, now that that has been said… When can we play? I'm ready for adventure.
Derek Williamson.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
A Day in the Liefe of Derek Williamson: The Derek Williamson Story.
Of 4 billion sold.
More than the bible.
“I'm not surprised,” ~ Taylor Horn.
Most days I don't wake up to my alarm. Instead, my alarm gets drowned out by the sound of something more pleasant. Something like a dream. When I do wake up, it is to find that I'm always late. I thought I avoided this situation by moving an hour closer to my school. I thought wrong
After getting ready, I plop back into my warm sheets and dream of being asleep again. If too much time passes, I make a call. Heads, go to class. Tales, skip class and just pretend I went. More often than not, my imaginary coin lands on heads and I am forced to remove myself from my so wanted pillow.
I hate mornings. They do nothing for society. In fact, they make 90% of the population miserable. I'm included in that statistic. But, as my life requires, I'm forced to embrace what is most hated.
I never have time for breakfast. I don't even remember what breakfast tastes like. Is it sweet? No, that can't be right. Maybe one day the memory will come back to me, but for now, this last resort pop-tart will do. I'll eat it when my stomach is louder than my train of thought.
Class is dull. The sound that is omitted by some of the students at this school is excruciating. At least they're not knitting, though. I hate when people knit in class—almost as much as I dislike the sight of people drinking a soda at 830 in the morning. Don't they know that that is against the law? Or is it me who is just thinking it should be?
After class, I'll attend a facility that helps me get to where I want to be in life. Most people call it employment, I call it work. I try to spend as much time conversing as I can, and do as little work as possible. I hate the society we've become. It seems there is a Monarch in the work force. If you're not wearing a crown, ermine cloak and holding a scepter, you're only a piece of shit. I want to be somewhere else. I dream of it often.
After too long, I return to my home. A long days work is never too long when you know you're long missed pillow is waiting for you to return home-with nothing but a smile on it's indented face an a wag in its metaphorical tail. When my sheets and I meet, it is like a storm of vivid imagination. Colors are sent through my head that can only be described as dreamy. On occasion, the colors correlate with each other and form images. These images create story lines and plots. The plot thickens when I roll over and discover that my bed has transformed into a boat floating on a sea of thought. So much for that train, this ride is much quicker.
I see a dock. It is made of wooden posts and has rope running across the entire structure. There are other boats made of sheets and blankets there. Some of them are flashing green symbols that I cannot quite make out from this distance. As the tide takes me closer, I begin to hear a sound. At first it is a subtle beep, but soon it becomes an impressive screech. One that begins to cloud the world I live in. The once blurry symbols are now legible. They read, 7:00 A.M.
I hate mornings.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Beema Moo
Have you ever been watching a movie so motionless that you lose the ability to feel your body? You haven’t moved for so long that you forget how your fingers and legs are positioned. Of course, you guess. It kinda feels like they’re all upside down and backwards, but as soon as you go to confirm the position, it isn’t true. Your fingers are just the way you left them, interlocked and resting on your legs that are just curled beneath you. Strange how that happens.
I believe the same thing can happen with a friendship. If one goes too long without change, then you might think that the relationship is just as peachy as it ever was. Sure, shit happens, but for the sake of the friendship, you suck it up and just deal with it. After too long you realize you can’t feel her anymore. You have no idea where she is. She feels all upside down and backwards, so you go to analyze it. It is then that you realize things are not how you last left them. She’s ditching you more and more. She’s making newer better friends; she’s living her life without you.
I never asked to be part of her entire life; I just want to be part of the stuff that would normally concern me. She and I used to be able to talk about anything. Now it feels like if I say the wrong thing, she’ll get annoyed and disappear. But how can I say the right thing if she’s doing things so… wrong?
Just before a star collapses, pressure builds up to the point of exhaustion. She and I have this pressure. I feel like I can’t talk to her, and what is more, I feel like she doesn’t talk to me. For some reason I feel the need to over compensate my kindness towards her. I don’t really feel all that joyful around her, in all truth, she actually pisses me off most of the time. The pressure is building, and I’m afraid of when it will be exhausted.
I just want things back to how they were.
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