Dawson on the Run

settling down makes me dream of traveling. traveling incites thoughts of settling down. here i am in Mendoza, Argentina. i spent freaking 4 months living in Chile without a day of spanish, and my only day here entirely in spanish. so now i'm in that mezclado state of mind- forgive me if my english no sale bien. i don't have an argentinian guide book, but i did manage to read a few sentences about this region on the internet. for those of you who know me well, that is a big improvement in planning ahead. the few sentences said something about the region being famous for its wine-production, so this morning i went on a winery tour. does that sound boring? it wasn't. and it's not because i drank six glasses of wine before noon either. well, at least not solely...

in the afternoon i wandered the parks and plazas, which led to my thoughts about settling down. if i am to stay more than 2 years in any one place i need it to meet the following requirements:
1. no more than 20 min. commute to work (another reason carrie's job is so appealing)
2. no more than 20 min. commute to beach
3. my commute has to be against the sun's glare (or maybe i could just find sunglasses to fit my mutant dwarf head)
4. plaza
5. park
6. people that make use of the plaza and park
7. palm trees
8. trees with leaves that change color (okay fine, deciduous trees)
9. coniferous trees
10. at least 3 seasons
11. more time warm than cold
12. heterogeneous population (age, race, class, language, etc.)
13. affordable

i am now accepting applications. if you meet the aforementioned criteria, please send brief description and attach photo. gracias.

was there a severe decline in birthrate from 1976-1979? where are all the people that check age box 25-29? because when i was in school, i knew lots of people my age. (the duh is implied, thanks.)

the friends that remain in my college town, USA, are all a good 2-4 years younger than me. my other college friends have disappeared back to long island, joined DC´s political circus, or moved on to start (and now finish) families, grad school, etc. so i guess there are 26 year olds in these places, but my accent would never be authentic; i´m not about to be a clown under the DC big top (i hear you have to wear nylons for that, see previous blog); you are cracked out if you think i´m even going to comment on the family thing; but i would gladly go to grad school for free. okay, next.

my high school friends, ah nostalgia. now they are all over the freaking globe doing adventurous, exciting, and challenging work. i´m trying to run into people like that here in Chile. but Chile has wronged me too! we know some 30-40 year olds, and another group of 19-21 year olds. same thing goes for hometown, RI! working at the gym i met plenty of people in those two age groups, but where are my peers?

i´m not saying that these people are any less my friends because OF COURSE i would not go back and contradict something said in a previous post. (plus, it´s not true.) just curious as to where you´re all at, and am i supposed to be there too?

i am totally the only one reading my own blog. ha ha. not funny. that stat is not going to get me my own column so that i can live the carrie bradshaw dream of working in my pajamas. sigh. as long as i can avoid the nightmare of wearing nylons...

what does volunteering mean to you? that should´ve been a question on the application i filled out to work at this place. that way, the director could specifically search the database for "masochistic, overeager fool" and find the perfect match.

there are 5 of us volunteers. no one is happy- only those aforementioned fools could be content in the present environment. as tactful and graceful as i try to be when mentioning that there is NO FREAKING PLACE TO DRY OUR CLOTHES if there is no dryer, no rack for drying, and nothing allowed on the patio, it is met with defensive hostility. (just one example- hundreds to choose from)

now as my time is coming to an end, other people are threatening to leave. one is being bought off with her own room with (sit down for this)a heater, and spanish lessons; another is being bought off literally (even though she will stay less than her previously commited end date.) amanda is away in the US right now, and might as well have me mail the rest of her stuff home. poor tiffany, who voiced her dissatisfaction with the unjust situation, was told, "Maybe you should stop worrying about what everyone else is getting and focus on the children." ah, the rich, spoiled children. pobrecitos.

do you remember kindergarten? remember those big 6th graders that ruled the school? they were like 11, and they could like, get their ears pierced and ride their bikes to school and stuff.

remember 9th grade? wow, those seniors were so mature. i could never be friends with them. i mean, they had their own cars and could drive to clubs way far away in like, providence! that might as well be a world away. and your parents? they just seemed so o-l-d!

you remembering turning 21? you had been waiting for that day for so long! (at least i think normal people work that way.) didn´t you feel great? not at all like those people in their mid-twenties, working real jobs and stuff. 26? yeah, that seems like a good age to get married, maybe start having kids. "but that´s far away," you thought- "i´m only 21!"

so here at a single and childless 26, i am breaking free this disillusionment. i am friends with people my parents´age, and they are no more mature than me. nor am i more mature than SOME of the 21-year-olds i know. friends starting new relationships always say, "i feel like i´m in high school." friends ending those relationships (or talking about catty girls) always say, "this isn´t jr. high." there is nothing really defining about your age or stage in life that can determine your character. i feel young; i feel good. and i think that 30 sounds like a good age to maybe find a real job. :)

i´m not much of a music person. not that i don´t like listening to music to dance to, or in the car, or in aerobics class, but that´s about it. new people who meet me tend to want to "broaden my horizons" in terms of my musical tastes and knowledge. johnny even dared to buy me my first CD player before i went on this trip to bring me up to the year 1990- it still sits unused on my shelf. however, one of the things i do love about music is how certain songs elicit specific memories, sometimes memories that you forgot existed.

for instance:

the sound of science, thomas dolby: ritik dholokia, the smartest kid in my grade was singing this one day in Spanish II. he never really talked to me, but thanks to alphabetical order, he sat right in back of me in every smart class i managed to get into. i hear he got his masters degree from Stanford in environmental ethics or something save-the-world-y like that.

your eyes, peter gabriel: i remember ariana was a fan of this song, but it most reminds me of rehearsing for Shattered Lives, an unscripted drinking-is-bad play we performed in high school. oh yeah, and keith chose this is how we do it, montel jordan for the party song, even though jamie wanted killing me softly, fugees . party at joy´s- HA!

on the good ship lollipop, shirley temple: ah, the days of tapping in my dance teacher´s garage. and there are a TON more where that came from. my memory collection from age 4 is not too shabby.

joyride, ginblossoms: on the radio right after i freaking crashed right into rebecca schauer´s truck in the high school parking lot about 2 weeks after getting my license. not quite my idea of a joyride home, more of a white-knuckled gripping of the steering wheel while i tried to see the road through my near hysterics and tears. not so focused that i didn´t hear the song on the radio obviously.

black, pearl jam: (i honestly have no idea if that´s it) given to me on a mix tape- damn those freaking mix tapes and why the HELL would you put that song on a love mix tape or whatever- and later accompanied my suffering through my first broken heart.

boom boom, venga boys: partying in spain night clubs, specifically in guernica where i almost fell on the multi-leveled floor. do these people even know what those words mean?? probably...

it´s the contradictions that are killing me. not the 10 hour days, not the fleas everywhere, not the lack of Spanish or friends, and certainly not all 52 degrees that comfort me when i try to sleep. just this damn paradoxical cloud that hangs over every aspect of my life here in chile.

i came here as a volunteer. as a volunteer for a start-up nursery school, (so-called bilingual but really only English- ummm...i can get PAID to work at an English nursery school in the USA thanks) i expect to be helping kids who truly are in need and a school that depends on the generosity of others to make ends meet. but here, i am one of five volunteers for the most expensive preschool in viña. the owners are soon to inherit hundreds of millions of dollars from wealthy parents. the kids come in designer clothes and talk about their outings at exclusive resorts (they are 3). basically i am slave labor to help the rich get richer. ew.

as the backbone of the school, in return us volunteers are treated like crap. unbeknownst to many that come here, we end up living with the directors. they said this was to keep an eye on us and protect the reputation of their school because gringos are drunken, sexually promiscuous potheads (yes, i´m paraphrasing, and yes, the director IS american). ew again.

the website says volunteers are provided with food and private rooms. not so. we tried to ask for food staples like sugar and butter, maybe toilet paper and soap, and were told that finances would not allow for that. right, but they can pay a music teacher for 16 hours of work even though he only does about 8 AND they can get their housekeeper to make lunch for him. they can install 100.000 peso hand dryers, and they can buy their daughter a pony when she turns 5. i´m not talking no My Little Pony either. i sleep on a mattress on the floor of my shared room while the director´s 3 year old daughter sleeps in her parents´ room every night, while hers remains unused.

we are told that we need to cut down on our utility expenditures. we are told not to go out on weeknights. then we are told how much our maturity, expertise, and contributions are appreciated.

and that is just the beginning...don´t even get me started on the teaching! okay, maybe get me started next time.

the answer is:

802 pages

The ant starts on page 1 of volume 1 (think about which direction page one faces when you put the book on the shelf), which is next to the LAST page of volume 2, of which he walks 100, then 100 of volume 3, and so on until after volume 9, he crosses over to next page, which is the last page of volume 10.
(1+100+100+100+100+100+100+100+100+1=802)

i gave up on this one after less than a minute i think, so props to those of you that gave it a shot.

hint for the previous blog:

1. the including covers thing is supposed to make it easier, like volume 1 in total has 100 sheets/pages whatever, covers are not extra.

2. think about how the encyclopedias are stacked in a library.

un acertijo:

there are 10 volumes of encyclopedias stacked together (in order) on a library shelf. each volume contains 100 pages including their covers. if an ant walks from page 1 of volume 1 to page 100 of volume 10, how many pages did the ant walk on?

can someone please tell me why mainstream = bad? i don´t get it.

i know that something mainstream can be bad, but why does saying something is so mainstream translate to it sucks and only superficial idiots can find appreciation for it? i will never be cool enough for these people for the following reasons (among others):
1. i actually like britney spears as an entertainer.
2. i think justin timberlake is incredibly talented.
3. usher is an awesome dancer and his music has chispa (i can´t think of a good english word in my spanglish state of mind.)
4. eminem is a gifted writer/producer.
5. thanks to mtv chile, recently discovered that fred durst is a funny, down-to-earth guy that takes on some interesting challenges (though the "i hate fred durst" website isn´t awful).
6. i enjoy watching blockbuster movies.
7. my clothing is bought in stores.
you see where i´m going, right?

do these confessions make me a shallow, ignorant person? or perhaps the people who love something up until the point when everyone else discovers that they like it too (or for some supercool people the moment it hits the radio or appears in a commercial cinema) are the ones lacking integrity.

p.s. this does not mean i am a defender of ALL things mainstream (e.g. matrix revolutions).
p.p.s. i also find it interesting that certain said people know far more information about these topics than they should if they are so unconcerned with them.

i have been drama-free for almost 9 months now. but i fear i may be on the verge of a relapse.

i enjoy the psychology of people- our individuality, our emotions, our cognitive processes, etc. it always makes for interesting observations when a group of girls lives together, but it is nerve-wracking to actually be part of the experiment. paranoid and socially anxious by nature, i find this unstable environment heightening my weirdness to old levels. (wish i could say new levels, but i can´t lie. no seriously, i can´t. but that is a separate realm of neurosis.) i am looking to find the path of least resistance and travel it for one more month. but am i sacrificing something is the process? is the drama good for me? cuz i think i´d rather stick to light-hearted comedy...

i am so cold. i am cold outside, at school, at home. i am cold in a hat, in a fleece, under covers. i do not like this cold i say, and sam don´t like it neither- no way!

when i told the director´s husband that i was cold he said, "i guess you´ll have to buy more sweaters because it´s only fall!" OR, now this is just an idea, you can turn on the heat in the apt. we live in (it´s posh enough that i know there is heat), and how ´bout installing some calefaccion in the NURSERY school. like those snotty drooling pooper scoopers aren´t getting me sick enough as it is.

man, my geography teachers really did not do a good job. i think ¨peru¨ and show up with tank tops and shorts- no one told me about the altitude! i think ¨chile¨ (and really there´s no one to blame here because it´s in the name) and i think capris and short sleeves (i was getting closer) but i don´t think we spent enough time on the chapter where you learn that 1. once you pass the equator south no longer equals warm, and 2. the southern hemisphere´s seasons are a revés. i might have passed that quiz, but i definitely didn´t correct the ones i got wrong.

you can holla back at me you know. just click on comments below. and no need to tell me that i´m a fool. my purple skin is reminder enough, thanks.