Fairy Tales Only Exist in Storybooks

     I'm a hopeless romantic.  I admit it.  Cheesy one-liners, cutesy cards, texts signed with "xoxo" and constant "I miss you"s really make my head spin in a beautiful way.  The last couple years of my life have been filled with men who were really not capable of that kind of stuff at all.  Actually, a hand-full of them weren't even capable of not insulting me on a daily basis.  But that's in the past. Oh well. Good riddance. 

     Now, about a month and a half ago a good friend of mine encouraged me to join an on-line dating site.  I hate the thought of those, but she was persistent so I made a profile.  I hardly filled the thing out at first, but after talking to a bunch of friends who had met their boyfriends/spouses on the internet I figured I'd go back, fill in the details and really give it a shot.  There were a few guys who caught my eye with catchy messages but I continually found something wrong with them and chickened out.  One man, however, really intrigued me.  At first, it was his god-like looks that pulled me in, but after talking for about three weeks and being super cautious, I finally decided to meet him for coffee. In a public place that would be easy to escape in case he was actually a mutant or some kind of weirdo.  But he wasn't.  Coffee turned into a three and a half hour talk about everything from society to movies to God to life and everything in between.  It was difficult to tear myself away to go to the dinner plans I had previously made with friends. 

     We saw each other again the next day.  It started with a romantic afternoon in the park, followed by drinks.  Everything seemed amazing.  The two of us were like children.  He couldn't stop gushing about how crazy he was about me, and I ate it all up. Every word out of his mouth was so sweet I just couldn't help but grin at every moment.  He was so attentive and more importantly, was able to see right through all the fortifications I'd built up around my head and heart.  This continued for a week straight.  We texted constantly when we were apart and saw each other nearly every single day.  He even joked about running away and getting married the third day in.  He almost said the "L word" the second day but I stopped him.  It was all too much, too fast, but it felt like a drug to me.  

     Then came that Friday.  We had a really great night together, made breakfast in the morning, then parted ways to do some things we each had to do.  The night before, he had logged into his online dating account to show me a funny message he received and hadn't logged out.  After hanging out with my friends on Saturday I signed in to see mine but when I logged in his came up.  I was about to log him out when I noticed an outgoing message to another girl.  Not being the type to snoop, I didn't even want to see it, but my fingers got the best of me and I clicked on it.  My heart dropped and I signed out immediately, not wanting to see anything else.  Normally, this wouldn't bother me that much because for the last few months I'd been playing a couple guys at a time and not being the jealous girl I was years ago.  But, just hours before he had asked me to be his girlfriend.  Now, that's fucked up.  

     I collected myself and calmly called him to tell him about what I accidentally saw and he totally flipped but decided to come see me and talk about it anyways.  Being a frantic mess, I started chugging wine and basically passed out as soon as he got there.  This really didn't help anything.  He left kind of angry in the morning and I went home to run some errands and get my mind off of it.  We had quite a heated argument on Sunday and he said he never wanted to hear from me again, after insulting me more brutally than my ex ever had, and he was pretty damned bad.  On Monday I asked if we could see each other and talk it out.  He said it wouldn't be that day because he was busy but maybe the next day. 

     After he flipped out on me on Sunday I got a bit panicky and decided to go to my doctor to get tested for any possible diseases he could have given me.  Now, I know that I tend to get a little over dramatic about that sort of thing, but it occurred to me that maybe if he was actually a psycho, then all the other sweet and seemingly-perfect things about him could have been a lie, as well.  I got a call the next day from my doctor.  All my STD tests were clean, but I did have mono.  I knew I hadn't been feeling that strong or healthy for a couple weeks but had been so love drunk that I totally ignored it.  I texted him to tell him just in case he wasn't feeling well.  He had an interview in town that day and I asked him to come over after and talk like adults.  He declined and said that I was a "low-life piece of shit" and a "sneaky bitch."  

     I was crushed.  Everything had been an accident.  I thought I had done the right thing by being up-front and honest about it. If I really wanted, I could have even spun it around on him and blamed him for not logging out like anyone with common sense. But I didn't.  He called me about two hours later like nothing happened.  I stopped him and said, "Wait, two hours ago you never wanted to hear from me again."  He said that he really liked me still and was willing to give it another shot if we slowed things down.  I reminded him that he was the one who sped it along so quickly and just HAD to see me every single day.  I also told him that his reaction the day before scared me a bit.  I'd never heard someone so angry before.  And trust me, I've pissed off quite a few people in my day.  We left it with him telling me I could call him later if I wanted to and me thinking "pff, yeah right, psycho," but muttering a meek "ok."  

     Not even two more hours passed when I got another phone call.  I answered hesitantly and heard an extremely angry voice on the other end.  "You fucking psycho bitch, you messaged a bunch of girls on my account?!?!?"  I was baffled. I didn't do it.  This is MY blog, he can't read it, so I definitely have no reason to lie here.  I would never ever ever do that sort of thing.  Even when I was young and would look through my ex's facebook that was never my style.  I was more of a call and read the messages they sent out loud sort. But it didn't matter what I said.  He hung up on me and wouldn't stop sending harassing texts.  I suggested he check his outbox, ask these people what had been said, insisted that I had really liked him and therefore wouldn't hit on girls for him, or, on the contrary, if the messages had been negative, wouldn't have done that then told him I had had access to his account.  But logic clearly wasn't going to work on this maniac. 

     All I can say is I feel really bad for the next unsuspecting woman who falls for this guy.  He really is a prince charming when he wants to be.  But it's more like a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde sort of deal.  I've never seen anyone be so sweet, romantic and perfect than him, then turn so downright hateful and evil.  Sure, it hurt for about a day, but I mean, we only dated for a week so I'm over it.  The fact that I'm also scared shitless doesn't really help either. 

    But the biggest lesson I've learned is this: true love doesn't have to be a Hallmark card every day. It doesn't need constant compliments.  The man I've had a very on-going and complicated off and on relationship with for a very long time was never very good with that stuff (well, not after the first week or so anyways), but, more importantly, after all the shit we've gone through he never said a single unkind word to me.  I always expected too much.  A few days into seeing that monster, this guy asked me to dinner and I declined and told him basically to get lost and that I'd found someone better.  He was clearly crushed and acknowledged that he was taking things too slowly and showed regret for not making me happy.  I soaked it up in some kind of selfish, sadistic glory.  Only now have I realized that maybe taking it easy, not stomping on the gas and going into everything full speed ahead isn't the best idea.  This person always cared.  He may not have showed it verbally, but it was always made known.  I do have mono, so I shouldn't be around people anyways, and I do need a rest from men for a while, but who knows, maybe now I know what to truly appreciate.  Knights in shining armor don't exist, and the more romantic you can be the more psychotic you can be, too.  I'll take a balance for now, thank you. 

Like Catching Falling Stars

"I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion." 

(Kerouac, On the Road, Part 2, Ch.4)


     This quote will always creep back into my mind whenever I really sit back and think about my life.  If I had to choose what I could have on my tombstone, I'd probably go with this.  When left alone to wander, my mind just jumps from topic to topic and from idea to idea like a man trying to catch all the shooting stars in a meteor shower.   The possibilities are endless as far as which direction I could take my life in right now.  
     My interests are so varied, and often flaky, that I eventually am rendered stagnant with thought.  


Here's a short list of things I would love to do:


1. Go back to school.  I think I would sell my soul for the money to afford grad school. The only problem is that anything I would want to study is probably not going to yield much job potential, other than teacher, or maybe professor if I do really well.  For example, I'd kill to know everything about philosophy.  I've been catching myself imagining myself studying Nietzsche in the original German, in Germany. Or studying anthropology and participating in an archaeological dig.  


2. Be in the place in my life I am right now without getting any older.  I love my job.  Passionately.  I love my students. Immensely.  The thought of not being able to go to a job and spend my day with people I love so dearly is terrifying.  But, nonetheless, I am getting older.  My students eventually leave.  My list of people I miss grows longer every month.  And they go on and build amazing lives for themselves.  It's beautiful.  But, when will it get to be too much?  When will I become unable to relate, communicate with students?  I feel like the momentum I've built through the last year or so has to come to a screeching halt eventually.  But it's painful to imagine any other way.  


3. Spend a few months completely isolated.  Preferably in Iceland.  In the wild, with nothing and nobody around but myself and nature.  Now, if you know me, this must sound bizarre.  I am not a nature girl.  But for some reason I'm having some sort of brain/personality pregnancy worthy cravings going on.  Like something is growing in there and making me want to do things I normally wouldn't.  Is it just that I'm 'growing up'?  










I have much more to say...but I seem to be without words...

I'm back

     I haven't written a blog entry in nearly two months.  It's not that I haven't wanted to, it's more than I've been unable to.  My inability is not due to a lack of anything to say.  On the contrary, I have too much to say.  The truth is, however, that I'm afraid to say it.  There are too many people that could potentially be hurt by what's going on in my head.  Additionally, there are too many people who would be more than willing to judge.
     If there's one thing in life I can't stand, it's people who are judgmental.  Everyone's life is unique and different.  I believe in free will.  We've had it from the beginning of time; why do you think Adam chose to eat from the tree of knowledge?  I must admit that I don't always make the best decisions.  However, I am aware of the difference between right and wrong, honesty and dishonesty, etc.  Therefore, when I make what some would say is a "bad" decision, it's usually for some purpose, usually for the sake of experimentation.
     Certain people in my life constantly try to advise me on how to "solve" certain issues in my life.  They usually are offended or upset when I don't follow this advice.  Even when I ask for advice, however, I'm not always doing so with the intention of following it.  Occasionally I just want someone else's opinion.  Sometimes I just want to see how making the "incorrect" choice will affect myself and the person or people involved.  Seeing the way it affects me is part of a mission I've been on for some time now.  That mission is to discover who I truly am.  I know that many times I'm simply too nice.  I seem to have convinced myself that by not being so nice, I can recreate myself and be happier.  This is not only the case.
     Nevertheless, I've been experimenting more and more with different solutions to different life problems.  I wish I could be more specific, but herein lies the problem with a blog: it's too public.  To properly purge my brain of what's happening inside it I would have to get out my old friends, the pen and paper, and keep it all to myself.  Maybe when some time passes I'll be able to say what I want to say at the moment.  It's just a disappointment that time also changes perspective.
     As ambiguous as that was, this is my return to blogging.  Hopefully there will be more to come.

chapter 4

    My reasons for going to Thailand were manifold.  And it wasn't my initial choice, either.  Far from it, actually. I was working a job I hated, had no interest in, and honestly felt was far below me.  I read The Magus by John Fowles at some point in September or October of 2009 and was incredibly inspired.  My ex had left me for a younger, blonder girl about three months prior to this time and I just needed to get out.  Out of the country, out of my funk, out of my life.
     The book is about a man who is unhappy with his life: his boring job, his needy girlfriend, and England in general.  One day he comes across an advertisement for a teaching job in Greece.  He applies and then is accepted.  He leaves dreary England for a remote island on Greece and magical, sexy, mysterious action ensues.  I flew threw the six-hundred-something page book in no time.  "That's exactly what I need," I thought. I did some research, got in touch with a few American women living abroad in Greece, and started my TEFL course.  One woman in particular whom I corresponded with had gone to Greece to teach and wound up marrying a lovely Greek man.  How romantic.  How dreamy.  Exactly what I wanted.
     Soon after completing my course I realized that teaching in Greece, or anywhere in Europe, for that matter, would be nearly impossible.  Due to the unionization of Europe, European countries only want to hire British English teachers.  What luck.  Regardless, I was no longer complacent with my life.  Complacency is a concept that crossed my mind frequently then and still does now.  The word itself is similar to contentment, but different in so many ways.  I was in no way complacent, nor satisfied or content.  Going abroad was a form of escape.
     Soon after realizing Greece would never happen with my American citizenship (believe me, I tried, I was even willing to change my citizenship to Latvian because I have Latvian ancestors, but didn't do so because Latvia was part of Russia when my great grandparent immigrated here and therefore this would be impossible). I applied everywhere I could think of.  The people in Turkey didn't get back to me, nor did anyone in any other European country.
     I saw a job listing for Thailand and immediately thought of the movie, The Beach.  Similar idea to the book.  Well, not really, but sort of.  Leonardo's character goes to Bangkok as a tourist and winds up on a remote Thai island completely apart from the rest of society with likeminded people.  Maybe something interesting and romantic like that would happen to me.
     I spoke with a bunch of people who had been there.  They all loved it.  The cost of living was cheap, there was a lot of fun to be had, and the weather was beautiful.  I made some contacts there, got a job acceptance and was on a plane much faster than I ever expected. The Thai school year starts in May.  There was a point where I thought I may not secure the job I thought I would.  The company I was going through suggested I try South Korea.  I declined this idea because that is such a popular destination for people who do what I do.  I wanted to be different. To make my mark on the world.  I wasn't happy to be just like anyone else. I am me, I am unique.
     But most of all I wanted to get out of this country, stat. Boston had become an eerie and haunting place for me.  Every corner of ever street, whether in the city itself, or in the meager suburbs held a memory of past lovers, friends, and my fleeting youth.  The idea alone alleviated some of the asphyxiating feeling I had had for a while.
     It would also get me away from the building in which I worked. It would get me away from him.  Far, far, away from him.

The Days of My Life: A Melodrama

Sometimes I walk around thinking, "Okay, so where are the cameras? What is going on? Come out, I know you're there!"  My life just isn't normal.  There's way too much drama.  It just doesn't make sense sometimes.

Actually, I'm just going to end this blog right here.  I'm afraid of what I might say.  If my life really is a reality show I should probably stop providing the crew with such great material.  All I need is someone reading the wrong thing and starting another exciting and thrilling episode.

I'm just going to spend some quality time with my good friend, Pinot Noir.

A Sexy Sort of Philosophy

     Before we begin, I'll admit it: I just added "sexy" to the title to get you to read this.

     But, if you think about it, philosophical thought is a lot like sex.  The process is stimulating if done alone, but always better with a partner.  By that I mean that you can think and think and formulate ideas all day long, but without others, this fun can only go so far.  The best new ideas are created as a synthesis of more than one idea.  From two minds new thoughts can be born.  Your mind can also become contaminated if you are exposed to dangerous ideas, e.g. propaganda, etc.  Hitler convincing the majority of non-Jewish Germans in the '30s and '40s was sort of like giving them all philosophical AIDS.  It spreads and causes destruction as it does so.

     Not a bad analogy, huh? I'm not sure what's wrong with me, but that's actually the second analogy I've pondered concerning AIDS today.  At lunch with Ben I mentioned that I was in such a good mood that I thought it might be a nice idea to go out and hug people, hoping that this happiness would spread via physical contact.  Always critical of my ideas, Ben's response to this was, "it's a good mood, not AIDS."  I said, "You're right, but if a good mood can't be spread through touch, isn't it more similar to AIDS?"  AIDS is only transmitted through sex (or sharing needles, but forget about that for now), and I think that most people would likewise "contract" a good mood from sex.  Just a thought.

     The cause for my good mood is the rapidity with which my brain is working today.  I feel intuitive, creative, original, perceptive, contemplative, and most of all: ALIVE.  There are a few separate ideas that I've come up with since I woke up almost twelve hours ago.  Addressing them could take a while, but I think I have the energy.

     Today was the second or third day in a row in my grammar and structure class that we have spent talking about verbs and verb tenses.  No conversation, no vocabulary that did not come from an exercise involving grammar and making a decision about which verb tense to use.  Language has a whole slew of verb tenses, i.e. simple present, simple past, simple future, present perfect, past perfect, future perfect, present continuous, past continuous, future continuous, all those perfect tenses in the continuous form, and not to mention conditionals and all those other sub-tenses.  As a native speaker, I never thought about all this until I became a teacher.  Not all languages are the same.  This is something I never really realized or thought about because I took Spanish in high school and college and the grammar and tense schemes are very similar to those of English.  Other languages, however, do not have all of these tenses.  Both Korean and Arabic, for example, only have the simple present, past, and future.  Thai and Chinese only have one tense.  This just blows my mind.

     Over the last few days I've been obsessed with the idea of synthesizing linguistics with philosophy and sociology.  Does the way with which we express ourselves linguistically have an effect on the way we perceive our culture and the rest of the world (or God, or others, or the self, or existence or a myriad of other subjects)?  Or do our perspectives on these influence the formation of our languages?  I'd like to learn more about linguistics in order to ask people from various cultures, who speak different languages questions about their perspectives on many things and see if I can find any correlation between the two ideas.

     Another aspect of language that astonishes me is the absence of the word "be" in Arabic.  Several students have told me about this.  Initially I was obsessed with relating this to the difficulties that many of my Arabic students have with the verb "to be."  Since English is such a "be"-reliant language, it's hard for me to even imagine expressing any sort of idea without it.  Today I started to expand on this idea. How, for instance, does one connect the essence of something with the actual thing without "be"?  How does one define anything?  Maybe I'm looking at it wrong, maybe by saying "I am happy," versus "I happy," actually emphasizes the idea of being happy by placing "I" and "happy" directly beside each other. Hmm.

    But nevermind that, how would you perceive the concept of existence without the word "be"?  The definition of existence is the act and/or idea of BEING.  There are some cultural and religious ideas relating to the absence of "be" in Arabic that I want to explore but it's way too much to write at this moment. This might get it's own entry.  My biggest problem in exploring my ideas is formulating the proper question with which to ask them about their views of existence and how they think it effects, or is effected by their language.  I have plenty of people I could ask, after all the Saudi population at my school is increasing steadily, I just don't know how to formulate my question properly without first implanting my ideas in their heads and then possibly skewing their answers to conform to my idea. It's tough.

     I think in order to really understand all this I would need to actually study linguistics in detail.  It's making it's way to the top of my list of things I want to know more about.  There are hundreds of languages throughout the world, and many more that no longer are used but have influenced modern languages.  I want to know about all of them and compare the cultures of the language-speakers with possible patterns within language patterns.  A huge task, but I want to do it.  I guess I've felt greedy for knowledge lately.  It could stem from my impending birthday.  Every year the thought that I am one day closer to death and therefore have fewer hours with which to experience, see, do, learn, and understand.  I want to know about everything, I want to go everywhere, I want to see everything, try everything, but this is simply impossible.  But it never hurts to try.

     It's sounds crazy, but if I won the lottery today, I would do nothing but travel, read, and take classes.  Yes, I just said that, I'd go to school willingly if I had the resources.  I don't think I'd ever stop.  I'm just too curious...about EVERYTHING.  Perhaps I'm setting my goals a little high, but whatever.

     Other thoughts I've had today:

               Origins of our thinking process; thought, story-telling, etc is all expressed in a linear manner (first this happened, then that, then this, then something else; cause - effect - cause - effect, and so on and so forth).  Is it possible to think differently?

               The limitations of understanding that stem from our inherent sense of self, which leads us to perceive our surroundings in one limited, narrow way.  Is it possible to have multiple senses of perception, empathetically, I guess (?) at the same time?


     Any sort of insight or contribution to these ideas would be great.  I love having my ideas challenged or contributed to. Also, any bi- or multi-lingual persons reading this are more than welcome to share their opinions about this linguistic philosophy I've written about.

Masucline Feminine

I'm not really sure what to write about, although I feel like I should write something.  Actually, that's not entirely true.  There are a multitude of subjects that I've been meaning to talk about, primarily in relation to the on-going attempt at chapters in a book which I've been attempting to write.  However, I simply don't feel like addressing some of the things which I intend to write about.  I've reached the point where I intend to talk about the man who broke my heart, not once, not twice, but multiple times.  But, I'm not sure I'm ready to exorcize that demon yet.

I've also been bottling up and stewing on a bunch of things.  These things mainly concern some people I see a lot.  Blogs are a little too public so I won't get into it here.  In fact, I'll probably just continue to let these things brew within my mind until they explode rather violently.

That's sort of what I tend to do: suppress my feelings until they explode in an over-the-top fashion.  Is that a little bit masculine?  I mean, in the old-fashioned sense of the term, at least?  When people stereotype men and women, isn't that a characteristic usually associated with men?  I've been thinking a lot about so-called "masculine" and "feminine" attributes.  It is the year 2011, and men and women are "equal," but I can't help but revert to old-school ideas of how men and women behave.

After talking with a friend of mine who lives miles and countries away last night, I realized that there are certain areas of my life in which I tend to take the male role.  She was talking about a guy she's dating (sort of) who always calls to talk, but usually backs out when date time comes.  Then when they're alone he doesn't try anything.  You know what I mean.  We agreed on the gender of this action and decided that she was definitely wearing the pants, if you will, in this situation.  I've recently found myself in some situations in which I feel the same way.  Again, I probably shouldn't say anything publicly.  Just in case. Who knows who's reading.

Anyways, I studied my Spanish today.  A lot came back easily.  I'm hoping there are a lot of words I'm picking up that are similar to Portuguese.  I need to start perfecting that if I really am going to move to Brazil.  No, not "if," "when." But still.

Well, this blog entry is going nowhere fast.  I should end it here.