We're waiting for you call; we're against privacy

Yesterday in one of my classes:

Students are doing an activity and three girls are chatting in Spanish.

Te: Girls! You know the rules, you can talk but it must be in English.
Girls: *All roll eyes* okay okay, teacher.
Girl 1: So what do you do on last weekend?
Girl 2: All day I was being with my boyfriend
Girl 1: How 'being'?
Girl 2: passing time
Girl 1: Oh i thought, the sex
Girl 3: How long you have dated your boyfriend?
Girl 2: six months
Girl 1: And you have....?
Girl 2: no! I am only 14, we are all the time kissing. I am not 18, or 16.
Te: * is silently impressed with student's maturity*
Girl 1 and 3: Only kissing? * laughter*
Te: Oooookayyyyyyyyyyy. Time for a silent activity.

Teenagers. For a second I thought I was back in 2002.

Flash flood. You got too comfortable so I showed you who's really in control

Photo: Timothy Barnes

They asked me if I've ever been in love. No. I don't think so, and I'm sure that if you have to think about it then the answer is no. Right? It's perfectly normal for a 22 year old to never have been in love. Right? Well, there was that one time, when I was in love with Angel from Buffy. But that doesn't count. Right? I'm thinking I'd quite like to be in love. I wanted adventures afterall, and packing up and moving to Spain is all well and good as an adventure, but in love you have more to lose, so it's more exciting. No, can't do it. This is a screwed up way of thinking about love. .

Right?

People dancing should have never chose girlfriends

• On Friday morning I got home at 4am from Thursday night. On Saturday morning I got home at 5am from Friday night - three hours later I got up and packed to spend Saturday night in Granada. Never, ever, pack whilst drunk.
• My camera has decided to screw with me in revenge for the many times I have dropped it whilst drunk. It is now set to landscape/no flash mode and therefore won't work at night; possibly trying to give me hint - less drinking. Therefore I have been put incharge of my flatmate's camera; she doesn't know how mine died.
• Spanish Halloween is great, nobody dresses up as 'slut'.
• I was a little 'girly girly' for awhile, but I have been cured.
• Trying to get the spaces between my photos to be the same is really, bloody frustrating, and now these bullet points are messing with me.

Although he's nothing in the scheme of my years

Okay I have fine-tuned my Christmas holiday route and here is it in all its glory:


Day one: train to Madrid and overnight train to Paris.

Day two/three: Paris

Day four: Paris to Brussels

Day five: Brussels

Day six: Brussels to Bruges

Day seven/eight: Bruges

Day nine: Bruges to Amsterdam

Day ten/eleven/twelve: Amsterdam

Day thirteen: fly to Madrid



Hells yeah! If you have been to any of these places and want to offer some advice about things to do/see...even if you haven't been there but would like me to go somewhere/do something and then blog about it...you can suggest it. I'm not sure how I feel about going to Paris, I was 18 the last time I was there and I had such a perfect week - the best company, weather and overall luck. I don't want to taint my memory of the city if it's not as pefect this time around. It will be very cold though and hopefully not very touristy at that time of year. Maybe I will even spot some of these glam Frenchies I see on style blogs. Very excited about Bruges (which I didn't know existed before In Bruges, I'm ashamed to admit) and staying in a houseboat in Amsterdam with my oldest friend; she's my oldest friend in terms of how long we've known eachother, rather than her personal age of course, is there a clearer way of saying 'oldest friend'? 'childhood friend'?

Now I'm going to plan my Easter holidays....shit, I just missed my chance to get in the shower. Better go run the hot tap and flush the toilet a few times until my flatmate gives up....kidding...coughcough.




Photo: Anna Rosa Krau

Love is a dress that you made, long to hide your knees.

This weekend I have: listened to and downloaded lots of Iron and Wine ; Skyped with my parents; cleaned my room; put pink butterfly sheets and an ugly cover on the spare bed, then jumped on it with Ly; bought halloween stickers for my students; done cartwheels down the street; cried; drawn pointless pictures; taken photobooth pictures; created a 'kiss chart' with my flatmate for shits and giggles.

...oh, and eaten out both days. Today's lunch was expensive but so worth it:

By body won't tell my mind what I've been thinking, before it's out of my mouth

My project is coming along nicely. I had marzipan for dinner AND breakfast. I only have to work for 3 hours today. If you're happy and you know it...

Now hang me up to dry, you wrung me out too many times

Photo: Timothy Barnes

Dear douchebagjerkfacefucktardknobhead,

You no longer have an effect on me. I no longer over analyse. I am no longer mad when you don't email. Can't you just stay away? I would like to continue going through life believing I have a heart of stone. I'm rather proud of the fact that more than one person says that Jet's 'Cold Hard Bitch' reminds them of me. Don't ask me who these people are, you don't know them.

Please stop liking me (or whatever it is you're doing), it's pathetic and you do it really badly.

Te

PS: I despise you even more for inspiring this post. Twat.

Please remember me, at Halloween, making fools of all the neighbours

Photo: Tim Barnes

I'm starting a project. The idea is that I mail something every single day. Postcards, letters, gifts...every day! I have been compiling friends' addresses like nobody's business. The project is to make sure each day differs from the one before, lately life seems like a groundhog day...with the exception of the occasions when a student says something hilarious or my flatmates scream at eachother. So if you'd like something from Spain in the mail you can email me your address. I'm not a stalker, but...I'm sure stalkers always say that so I wouldn't ask you to take my word for it, and let's face it...I'm not willing to give anyone my address, so...

On a different note, I've realised lately that the world would be a better place if there were some drug that would put all 14 year old girls in a coma until they reached 15. Where the hell do they get all their 'bitchy' from? Certainly not the same place that sells tact, consideration, respect or objectivity. You can't even say to them 'hey! you're acting like a douchebag, grow up' because they think they're fucking awesome and they won't realise you were right for another 6 years and in 6 years time they probably won't remeber the time when their teacher called them a douchebag. It makes me rather concerned about what I will think about my 22 year old self when I'm 30. Ah, it's all experience - let's get drunk.

I have a couple of friends coming to visit over the next few weeks. I plan on pretty-ing up the spare room with the frilly pink throw over and pretty pink flower sheets which were in the flat when we arrived. Boys love that stuff, right?