Oops, my bad.... I mean, mi mal.

Naturally, living in a foreign country, there will be social faux pas. I forget to look the person I'm cheers-ing in the eyes. I forget to kiss on the right cheek (or is it my left?) and I bump heads. I have no idea what to put in a day of the dead cross. (Salt by the way.) These are just a few of the things that make me look like a tourist. Which I really hate. Tourists get ripped off, talked down to, and ignored. So I do my best to blend. But at what point does my identity need to bend for the sake of fitting in? I mean, it doesn't matter if I wear the right clothes (not too fancy for a soccer game, but heels are mandatory for all events), and speak perfect spanish, I'm still going to be white and born in America. The American woman in me screams, "I can open my own door!" but that would make me so rude here. So do I conform to the best of my abilities or just accept that I will always stick out like a sore thumb? Finally, after being escorted to and from the bathroom- twice, I reminded my chivalrous companion that I am, in fact, American underneath it all. I'm sure he was shocked. It might have cost me a date in the future, but I felt good for speaking up. I'm a big girl. I can pee pee on the potty all by myself.

No Days at All

There's a bumper sticker that every white person living in Cabo has, which says, No Bad Days. I've hated it since the first time I saw it. Something about it irked me. What does that even mean? That there's no bad weather? Because apparently those people go to their New Hampshire house for hurricane season. Does it mean that you can't be sad here? Don't they watch Fox or read the local newspaper? There is plenty to be sad about.
This sticker that might ring more true if it said, "Few rainy days" or "Deceiving monotony". Not as cheery, granted, but less annoying. I've found that the sun, and the constant cycling of tourist seasons (and tourists) can turn this place into a black hole. When you see sun and surf and tan people floating by, time slips away from you. Every one experiences "vacation time" where the week in Cabo goes by in the blink of an eye. It has something to do with the relaxing atmosphere and the lack of schedule. Well, I live in vacation time.

The thing about Mexico and time is, they don't get along very well. Not in the conventional sense anyway. If you ever try to set an actual time for something (a date, an arrival, a bikini wax) you will see how fruitless it really is. Half an hour late is on time, and the same day is perfectly acceptable. This is perfect if you're on vacation, tanning and napping the day away. It gets harder when people are counting on you, but here, the expectations of promptness are very low. It's something that I'm struggling with, but in the end, it makes time fly. You never think about 3:00, you think about the delicious lunch you're eating. You never think about 7 pm dinner, you think about if you are rested or not. It snowballs until a week has gone by, and you only know that it has passed because it's ladies night again.

Windy days stand out now. It's a breeze of 70 degrees which has me shivering. That can only mean it's the winter here, which means I've been here for 6 months. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?
There was the sunny month, the hurricane month, the boy numbers 1, 2 and 3 month, and then there's this month. I haven't even unpacked all the way. The bad days got swallowed up in the sun and the work and the romance. I could see myself getting lost here. But lost from what reality? Where is found? End point- I'm boycotting that sticker, because bad days help to delinate the time, otherwise it's just a timewarp of tanning and napping.

They call me the wanderer

I've mastered the art of flirting in Spanish. That is only possible because flirting takes place in the present tense. You don't talk about how cute that bejazzeled button up shirt looked last week, it's all about the now. The tricky part, I've found, is actually following up with those flirtations. How do you plan the course of a relationship, or fight about past flirting at the bar, if you don't understand the future or past tenses? You don't. Hmm. I might be liking these Spanish relationships.

On a different note, my teaching job asked me to commit for more hours. That's both exciting, and finalizing. With my family back in Colorado, my dog in Chicago, and my heart somewhere in outer space, I just don't know where to be. With out the nagging draw of a terminal relationship in Denver, I have to look at what my anchor is. What keeps me in a place, or what should be keeping me in a place?

People that have this figured out have easy answers when people ask, 'why do you live in ____?'. Well my family is here. My job is here. I love it here. And just what are you supposed to do when you have different locations for all of those items? If I only loved one place, it would be simple. But every place has it's pros and cons. Chicago was huge and I never felt like I could grasp what it was. But I find myself missing the night drive home where I would drive north east on unknown streets until finding my main cross streets. It was nice to get lost. Now I'm down the rabbit hole, and I don't know which way is home.

Skanky skunk

Someday I will post wonderfully beautiful pictures of my children. Until then...

All Hookers Eve

Happy halloween! Or rather, the day before, which will be the true halloween to all those who are concerned with partying. My friends and I have made the perfect mix of costume with sexiness, and we will proceed to go down town and judge everyone around us on either being too sexy or totally creative and amazing. Underpants and wings does not an angel make, my friend.

I have a serious beef with bought costumes. (and I'm not the only one) Sure, they look great, but there are a few major flaws. For one, there's no possible way for them to be unique, because they are made in bulk, and usually sold as such. If you're wearing an amazing bought costume that has 20 copies running around town, you might get a compliment, but it's sure to go something like, "Hey, great transformer costume, I saw that earlier on a hotter/skinnier/stronger person." Then you will feel like someone crushed your little halloween spirit. If you go as a collection of homemade items, no one can ever replicate it.

Also, there is no heart to these costumes. You made no sacrifice (besides the 100 freaking dollars) and therefore, the pride is minimized. If you were making your zombie princess costume, and stapled your thumb to your tiara, creating real blood to boot, you will rock that costume like it's in a thriller video.

I am going as a skunk. I made the costume, and will post pictures shortly. If there happens to be some other brilliant woman out there that decided a skanky skunk just HAD to be her frock tonight, then I will give her props. And then I will spray her with my homemade smelly spray.

Never Quit Quitting

He’s so much like smoking that it’s scary. I’ve quit him a million times, and yet, all it takes is one moment of stress, one memory of happiness, and I’m off the wagon. I call him, and then I’m stuck calling him. His easy jokes, his shared memory of the past 5 years, it's instantly addicting. I know, with every warning label reinforcing it, that he is bad for me. Warning: Will prioritize everything else in his life before you. Warning: You’re his first love and he will never fully let you go. Warning: This ex boyfriend will be the death of you. But I just read these warnings, fully understood by myself, and keep puffing away.

Maybe, this time, we will have grown up enough to know our limits. Maybe this time I can just call him once a week, as a reward for working two jobs. It will only be this one call to tell him something funny that reminded me of him. But it's never just one.

But tonight, after slowly weaning myself, I quit cold turkey. I told him, "look, you're no good for me. If we're not going to be in a relationship, then we're friends, and I don't need a friend like you." I'm proud of myself, but I can't help but wonder if this will be the end of my nasty habit, or if, in some time of stress or sadness, I'll end up caving- once again looking for my crutch.

Do you have egg cartons in your ears?

I'll start by saying that things with the surfer are done. I know, we're all shocked. When he asked me to move in, I started to think we were on different wavelengths. I actually studied the physics of sound and music in college (so I didn't have to take chemistry) and wavelengths are exactly what went wrong with this guy. In physics, waves of sound will keep bouncing around as long as they find good bouncing surfaces. (Very technical, I know) That's why in sound studios, the walls have bumpy surfaces, to trap the waves and stop them from traveling back around the room. There was no way the waves I was putting out were coming anywhere near this guy's comprehension. He must have had very bumpy ear drums.

I would say, "Let's take this slow", and he would whisper"Te quiero" (I love you).

I would say, "Maybe we should take the weekend off to think about things", and he would hear "I really want you to text me 3 times a day about how much you miss me".

Me- "It's not working out. I'm overwhelmed with how much you like me."

Him- "But I love you!".

Etcetera.

Finally, I said, "Maybe we can be friends, but that's all. Do You Understand? Say it back to me." It seemed to get through- kind of.

The crappy part of breaking things off early in a relationship is that the beginning is when people do most of their fantastical planning. I really hoped that we would surf every morning at 5 am, and I would get super ripped and become and amazing surfer chick, and suddenly become a morning person (who didn't need to "bake out" for 30 minutes before biting off the heads of anyone who spoke to her). We were supposed to go to this amazing private beach and according to him- we were supposed to live happily ever after. Besides that last part, I was really looking forward to how things might have been. I just wasn't ready for full speed ahead yet. Maybe it's being in Mexico, too close to The Heartbreaker. Maybe it's me knowing that my true person is still in formation and I'm weary of anyone who loves someone with out knowing who they even are. Whatever the reason, I'm officially single again.

Cheetos, a hot tub filled with oatmeal, and vanilla haagen dazs with chocolate syrup are who I'm currently seeing. They are nice guys, and I'm very happy with them. For now.