april in 1000 words or less.

There have been many changes and things that have happened or I have done since the last time I wrote anything. They are so intertwined that it's hard to start somewhere, so I'm just going to start with one throughout and explain EVERYTHING in between. 

There are some people in this world that are just not designed to learn a language. I very recently started a new job. Well, a new side of the teaching thing. Last week the institute that I work for offered me a deal where I would travel to Paysandu, a small city in the countryside of Uruguay and teach there. I would travel Sunday night and come back Thursday night. I would be teaching students from two different private companies. I would stay in either a company house or a hotel. The money was good, so I said yes. Not without reservations, mind you. Several things kept me from making a decision faster. For example, I have started dating someone new with exciting body parts (i.e., he's a boy. I will come back to this "detail" later) and it kind of sucks to be apart from the person that you like for so many days a week. But, money. Also, Paysandu is pretty far from Montevideo and I didn't know anyone there (still don't, no one worthwhile, at least). 

                    




                   But the main reason I didn't want to go is because I am very depressed. Despite the relative ease of my life, how little I have to worry about starving and/or my family dying because of suicide bombers or mass murderers, despite the fact that I am not terribly deformed, starving, or stupid, I feel like shit. Despite the people who say love me/like me/miss me, I am a worthless piece of crap with poopie on top. Why I feel this way will be the eternal mystery till the end of my days. Anyway, I mostly feel scared and very extremely astonishingly not ready to: 

                                           move to Sweden in a couple of months. I was awarded a place in the University of Stockholm's Master Film program. Pretty fancy, eh? Well, I am unprepared and fooling everyone. I so don't feel ready to live in a country where I don't know anybody, learn a new language from scratch, study in GRAD SCHOOL (when, let's face it, I barely made it through college), find an apartment, and get a job that pays me enough to support myself entirely. This is not high school or college, children. This is real life. Yes, I would love to study film in Sweden and be independent, but, will I love that more than sleeping and food? Who knows. My money (?? haha money) is on "not so much". Will I be able to wake up on time, go to work for 8 hours, go to class, study, write, cook, eat, have a social life? eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee is the only sound my brain makes when I think about all of this too hard. 

HOWEVER, money. Because Sweden. So, I said yes to the job. And right now, I am on a bus on my way *back* from my first week as a small-town English teacher. And let me tell you, there are people who cannot possibly ever learn a new language. I have this one group, right, comprised mostly of mechanics and field workers. All men.

                      I, as a 24-year-old girl (woman?) who spent three years of her life surrounded only by women and loving it, feel kind of uncomfortable in a room full of men. But I do NOT let it show. In fact, it kind of fuels a strong sense of power, and I am much more domineering and strict with the men than with the women. HAHALOL. Now, in the last, like, month, my views on male/female relationships have changed drastically. To be more exact, the relationship of me, Lau, a womangirl, vis a vis the MENFOLK have changed a lot because I

                                           


                                              started having sexy (and other) times with a member of the penis-having party. Yes, omfg, giggle snort, this is ridiculous. I found a boy I like and I am keeping him. I have sex with him and I like it. Don't tell my Smith friends. I still consider myself a lesbian, my identity and political self have not changed. I just happen to now like *A* weener. I really cannot say much more about it, because the whole deal is semi hush hush, semi not. 

                      But obviously this fact has had an impact on my views of men. It's weird now kind of thinking: "Oh, you are a guy, I touch one of you." I don't know, it's all very teenagery and weird, but real nonetheless. And it definitely changed something in me that I cannot pinpoint. More on this later. 

me and the people I'm attracted to. 

Back to the people incapable of learning a language. I supposed I'm being an extreme bitch when I say this, but it's true. And, unfortunately, (and even bitchier of me), the people in this below-zero level of English course are all, as I mentioned, mechanics or field workers. Some of them haven't finished highschool. Some of them haven't even reached 10th grade. Why is it so hard for them to understand? Is it them? Is it their fault? Is it because they decided to drop out of school? Did they even make that decision themseles or was it something bigger? Is it society's fault? Is it the fault of a flawed education system designed during the Uruguayan dictatorship in the 70s? Is it my fault?

                       Fuck no, I'm a great teacher. 

Who knows but the issue remains that in the past three days I have witnessed some truly incredible lack of synapses. Only language teachers know how frustrating it is to repeat a word, in one case, "give", so many times, and I am talking literally 40 or 50 times, and getting "bep" in return. Over and over and over again. And again. I highly doubt some of these people will be able to learn *anything* if they cannot even emulate sounds. When I asked them where the verb of a sentence was (in Spanish, of course, we are not into such sophisticated language as "what" or "is" yet), I was answered with blank stares and a bit of corner-mouth drool. 

I remember when I was in high school or middle school here, in Spanish class, the teacher could  not make the rest of the students understand what a verb was. And like, she was trying. So what the fuck can you do with that? People in Uruguay often say we are one of the better educated countries in Latin America or whatever, but the level of stupidity in this country says otherwise. And it's not sheer ignorance, either, it's the lack of will to learn. I remember middle school man. My classmates went out of their way NOT to learn. Our teachers were smart. We had text books. The assholes even showed up for class. It's like they were proving something by showing up and not learning. When did knowing things become so devaluated? 

But there is one thing I noticed about my stupid (Is that too harsh? Eh, whatever, it's not like they're ever going to read this) students. They laugh a lot more than my other students, and a hell of a lot more than myself. So maybe they have something there. 

durrrrr

It is Sunday. It is Sunday and I am at work. Doing nothing. I'm listening to this mix from 8tracks, because with a name like that, who wouldn't trust it?

i google image searched "indie fucks" but nothing cool came up

Since the last time I wrote, three important things have happened. Well, they each have different degrees of importance, but my life is seriously so monotonous that these events shook some ground. 

Firstly, in chronological order, I am no longer ***like a virgin*** anymore. My 10-month long dry spell has ended. I am now back on the horse. Fucking the horse? Ew. Nah, just on it.

Secondly, I have developed yet another rash on my chest. This time around it cannot be from the sun 'cause I stayed away from that bitch for the past month like it was the plague. My mom, the ever vicarious hypochondriac, thinks the rash is serious because it could be in my insides too. Which is sort of ridiculous, but I still have to go to the doctor because the stupid rash is getting worse and influencing some top fashion choices. And it's itchy and annoying. 

And, thirdly, a possible cause for my rash, I got into the University of Stockholm for a master's program in cinematography. So that's what I'll be doing in September. Motherfucker, yay! I still don't have much more information, not even when classes start, so try to contain your obvious excitement for me until I have shit more figured out. I've already been snooping on the internet about rent costs in Stockholm and shit is not looking good. But at least I start learning Swedish tomorrow. I'll let you know how that goes...

But here's the deal: I don't feel much excitement over this. Well, I don't feel much of anything, and I have become convinced my pills are not working/making me worse. I've been taking crazy people pharmaceuticals for NINE years. NINE. And if there is such a time to quit taking my medication it is now, because I still have time home to see that, if I feel super horribly shitty and need to get back on them, I can. But I really want to do this. There has to be another way. I have no motivation as it is right now. Maybe doing something different will change something, start a spark, and I can do things.

See just now, I felt so blah about this whole blog entry that I want to delete it. But I won't. 

I'm smelly.

sleepyhead

18 hours spent in bed and I'm still tired. My pores and stomach are full, but I haven't eaten anything in months. My arms feel cold but the small of my back is wet, it sticks to my sheets, it bleaches my hair.  My feet, always dirty, try to escape the confines of my bed to breathe the hot air. All I do is yawn, my eyes perpetually watering, and remember, and dream. 

I remember how we went up to the mountains one day and had breakfast with all the kings of America. I remember your nipples sharp against the cold air dancing in front of my camera. I remember one-sided conversations. I make vague plans to write you a letter you will never ever receive. And, if you ever do, please throw it away. 

TELEVANDALIST makes the best gifs

I dream about the impending carnival and the mistakes I surely made at work. I dream about sleeping some more. I dream about my friends who are so far away, their red hair beacons from not that far away... but my voice breaks and she can't hear me. She's gone before she knows I'm here. Desperate teeth, a chance of survival quickly goes down the drain with a sigh and another yawn. Whatever. 

There's a well-known story around these parts by Horacio Quiroga about a woman who slowly dies immediately after she gets married. She becomes ill during her wedding night and slowly wastes away. It is later discovered a parasite lived in her pillow, the new pillow her new husband had given her for their wedding, and sucked her dry. It's a nice horror-y magical story and you should read it. But I'm like her. I'm Alicia and her parasite. Except I don't have a husband, or a new pillow, but something somewhere is sucking me dry. And I let it be. 

Things I Have Not Done Lately Because I Was Too Sleepy:
Brushed my teeth
Taken my contacts out
Painted my nails
Shaven
Woken up on time - ever
Read anything
Written
Drawn
Watched TV
Watched films
Cried
Laugh
Gone to the beach
Eaten
Danced
Cleaned *anything*
Drunk

The only thing I HAVE done is gone to work. For 6 hours, every day this January, I have pretended to be a functioning member of society. My work is pretty easy, so I finish every day around 1 and then stare at the wall for hours, trying to not fall asleep. I have no idea if what I have is a deep deep depression so deep I'm too sleepy to cry about it or I'm actually sick, but what I am is fucking over it. I rather be manic and self-destructive than this shit. I can't even cry over it, I feel close to nothing. So, someone trigger me please. 






<3

french people doing crazy things

I have a friend who owns a hostel. It is called Buen Camino, and I have met some really cool people since the hostel opened up, since we seem to be there almost every day. We chill with guests all the time, take them out, give them a taste of Uruguayan culture. Honestly, if you don't have a friend with a hostel, seriously consider getting one. And, if you ever come to Uruguay, that is where you will stay. Breakfast included!

I miss America

Anyway, last week, I met two travelers, Steven and Sarah, who, contrary to what their names may suggest, are French. Steven is doing this project/lifestyle where he travels around the world with no baggage (no backpack, no suitcases, nothing but the clothes on his back), no airplanes (he came to America on a boat--- how very colonial of him), and no hostels/hotels  (he sleeps outside, via couchsurfing, or with random people he meets in the streets). Sarah was with him doing a leg of his journey, which he started in June. He will continue by BUS to San Francisco, then another boat to Australia, from there to Asia, India to Africa, and then back home. 

It took Steven 40 days to get from Paris to Rio de Janeiro on a three-person boat. He has slept out in the jungle in the Amazons. He is a photographer (you can see his amazing stuff HERE), one of those who get real close to people as if in a trance. He and Sarah are two of the coolest people I have ever met and I am so excited to go back to France (hopefully) so I could potentially hang out with them. 

When Steven told his story to a group of us, I think I was the most blown away. Probably because I had the least travel experience within that group (which says a lot), but mostly I can't understand these first-world babies giving all of their comforts up. Since I grew up (and still am) pretty poor, traveling for me is a dream. For them, it's a necessity. Something so unsatisfying is going on in their lives that they need to give everythging up and come visit us. And, like, all we want to do is go over there and experience some sort of mind-luxury. I'm not saying big hotels and first class, I'm talking about some intellectual luxury.
I am so fed up with Uruguay... I can hardly find any people to talk to, I have been looking, too. And in the past three weeks, I have been close to violence more then I would care for. Three times, me or someone who was with me has been assaulted or robbed. It's bullshit and it's ridiculous and I don't want to be around that kind of violence anymore. 

My mother tells me vioence happens everywhere, but it's so tangible here. It's not like it used to. I'm afraid to walk anywhee, and my taxi budget is growing constantly.
So, Europe, you may be all sorts of fucked up, but expect me there soonish.

In other news, I died the tips of my hair pink!

zombies and self-deprecation

I have been writing a 10 minute short film script about two people who fall in love in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Think “Before Sunrise” but with zombies.

via

I am writing the “important” dialogue now, the parts that are supposed to grab you... the quotable parts. The philosophy and theme. But I find myself too stupid and disorganized to do this. I think every time I write I try to summarize what I think about everything, ever. The absolute truth according to me. But it's impossible, more impossible in a movie, even more in a 10 minute short. I wonder if every writer goes through the same process.

Right now I'm at the part where I don't give a fuck anymore and I write a joke about Jesus and a blogpost about my nightmare script.

I kid I kid, I actually really like this project. But I find myself being stressed out, the way I hadn't been since I was in college (which, hey, dude, wasn't that long ago) and I figured out that it's the only way I can actually do things and push myself. I drank mate today and I was able to work for a couple of hours. If I could only do this every day. I guess what I lack is not intelligence but lots and lots of drive. And maybe prescription drugs.

via

I'm sorry I don't write more often. I don't know how I did it in Paris every day. I am sorry for myself I don't write more often. With practice and routine comes truly great stuff, which I'm not producing right now. Nothing I think is interesting. Maybe I'm just bored with myself.

Maybe November is just really hard on me. You know, because of IT.

But I did get my Italian citizenship this month, which is cause for celebration. I am going to Paris soon. I am starting yet another new life and I'm super excited. I need to fill myself with new people. And hear new things, even if I don;t create anything new or like, give anything back. I don't think I will ever be one of those people. I don't think I can ever be recognized for something unique or new. But sometimes I surprise myself, only myself. I've retrograded into that, but it's okay. I can bullshit it well this time. Some people seem to believe that only because I have traveled and studied in fancy places that I know what I'm talking about. Tip: I don't.

Ssssssseeeellllllf deprecation!!! No, but really. I feel fine about my role as a listener. I just hope that's enough. And now, for some light bed side reading: Derrida. See? I can be an intellectual!

something something on the bus

Today I had a crazy day. I woke up at 6 (lies, I put on my alarm at 6 and snoozed it until 7:10, then hurried the fuck out of my apartment). I got to work juuuuuust in the nick of time at 7:45 and waited for my students who are always late. Only one showed up. Like half an hour late. Then, I had two more classes back to back. After, I ran home, ate, and took a bus to Colonia del Sacramento.

via http://diegorj.tumblr.com/

There, after a three-hour trip, I gave another class. Now on the way back, squeezed next to a burly man on the bus, I'm on facebook instead of writing my short film (another story for another time). But, before I got on the bus, I went to a food cart to eat a hamburger and these two young guys were there. I was sitting there, eating, and one of them “whispered” to the other: “she's beautiful”. I dont know if they were a little deaf or what but I could totally hear what they were saying. It was kind of adorable, so I stuck around for a little longer. When the "whisperer" ordered his food, the other one said “and if you can include her, it would be great too”. He whispered that too, but I heard it.

I thought it was nice because they weren't saying gross shit about me, and I miss that. Here in Uruguay, all men say the grossest shit to you down the street, and even if it's not gross, they say it to your face, they invade your space. If you say something back, you're a slut, if you say something MEAN back, you're a bitch. Its like, fucker, you invaded my personal me time FIRST, I get to say whatever the fuck I want! But these guys were just saying that I was beautiful. It was refreshing, they didn't even try to talk to me (which is a smart move, cause they would have gotten shot the fuck down).

What the fuck is it with men and that behavior in this country? What in my face makes you think you can talk to me? This is why I've resorted to big ass headphones and sunglasses. I can still tell that they say shit to me, but I can ignore it safely. But I have a problem. I just cannot ignore it when they know i've heard them. I just have to say something back. Ill even call them a fag, which is the first thing that comes to mind, even though it's awful, because, poor fags, what they ever do to me?

YAAAAYY GAYYYYSSSS

If I ever forget my headphones or ipod or make eye-contact and I get cat-called (it should have another name, it's so gross), I will call their mother a whore. That's just the way it goes. You fuck with me, I rape you in the ass with a sharp stick. God forbid they touch me, because I will break their hand. Or at least twist their arm, like, a lot. It's happened before. And then I get called a bitch or crazy, by other women even. But whatthefuck, what they are doing is a violent act, even if they just use their words. It makes me SO ANGRY, they are violating my identity as a woman, and as a person.

It's like they dont believe I am real, they think they can just say whatever to me. What happens after, when my self esteem is shot, when I feel like a piece of meat that people just want to stick their penises in? When I cry myself to sleep, or just feel shitty for a couple of days? No man, if I say something back, the anger just floats away, and I get to resume a conversation with my friends or go about my day like nothing ever happened, knowing that that man will probably think twice before saying something gross to a girl he has no authority over.

Or maybe I have anger issues, one of the two.  

<3

no sleep till colonia del sacramento

I can't sleep. Again. I noticed, however, that this is because I like a girl. I like several girls. I like all girls! Again! And thus, I can't sleep; I go through different scenarios in my mind, playing out different outcomes to my awkward phrases, what I could have done better, etc. It's all very new and exciting. But I can't sleep. So, there's a correlation between me liking girls and me not sleeping. 

What.fucking.ever. At least I think about something other than how shit my life is because I'm so broke. Now I think about how shit my life is cause I'm so alone.

Maybe it's cause I keep doing this.

So no sleeping is a blessing. Lots has happened in my life since I last wrote. I have more friends now, different friends, international friends. People who are interesting. And do lots of drugs. I've been a bad girl. In the best most delicious kind of ways, and I just want to keep getting yummier and yummier. I also found out that the girlwhoshallnotbenamed was, in fact, seeing someone else and I KNEW IT MOTHERFUCKERS I KNEW IT. I actually feel better about myself, it doesn't mean it's anything I ever did, it's just that she is unreliable and met someone else. End of fucking story. Fucking finally. 

... 

Although, with summer very fast approaching, I do miss a hot body on top of my hotter one, but we'll see what we find eh?

Today it's 26 degrees (80 F) out and I see people without their shirts on, which makes me infinitely happy. Other things that make me happy: my mother's apple crisp with vanilla ice-cream, wearing skirts, smoking weed, girls with long hair, buying cheap nail polish. Things that make me unhappy: my perpetual state of motherfuckingbrokeness, being away from my friends, forgetting things, like my headphones in this exact minute. That's a pretty short list if you ask me, so I'm alright.

PICUNRELATEDLOL

I've always been afraid to do many drugs or drink too much, but I think that shit is actually making everything better. Yay for drugs!

Right now im on a bus going to work like 200 kilometers away from home. I go there and go back home every tuesday and thursday for the next two weeks. It's not great money but I dont have anything else to do. However, I made the mistake of taking the non-direct bus and this motherfucker has been stopping every time, letting people in an out. The seat next to me has seen a parade of mothers with babies, older smelly people, and, as of right now, a young girl who is very loud but seems nice. She looks about 15 and has a ridiculous interior accent.

Have you guys seen Pretty Little Liars? Because it's terrible but I watch it every week. 

When I travel by bus the same feeling overcomes me once and once again. I see a post, or a piece of garbage by the road, an individual electrical cable, and I think, fuck, has anyone else ever in your life ever noticed you? Probably not, I think, so then that makes me the only person ever who has ever noticed this thing, sitting there. A great big pressure begins in my body and I feel extremely big and extremely small at the same time. Sometimes when I close my eyes at night I feel the same pressure, but I am also floating. The darkness inside my head feels intermittently huge and tiny, my body, the same. I used to feel that a lot more when I was a kid. I hated the feeling and now I miss it. It was like being naturally high, questioning your own size, the universe, the darkness. So, I'm glad I can't sleep and question my own smallness.

I can't fucking believe I forgot my earphones.