But if it's so good being free, would you mind telling me, why I don't know what to do with myself - Emiliana Torrini, To be Free.
I'm aware that it has been awhile since I wrote a real, newsy, blog post. There's a reason, I haven't had the words, or the inspiration, or ..something. What have I been doing? Living. I work, I plan lessons, I eat, I have coffee at the local, I listen to music, I download terrible shows like 'Vampire Diaries ' to fill the spare hours, I drink and dance, and I sleep. My Spanish continues to suck, people continue to let me down and annoy me, for some reason the weather continues to be quite warm. I have been attempting to be less cynical, about everything, but really - it's just not me. Someone has to prove to me there's a reason to be less cynical before I can achieve it.
Work is both fantastic and awful - depending on the students. It would be lovely to say it is the teacher who sets the general tone of the class, but as of yet I am not experienced enough to choose the tone myself. The classes with the amazingly awesome kids are amazingly awesome. The classes with the bitchy, sulky and completely ignorant teenagers, run as such. I felt quite pleased with myself both as a teacher and an Australian when I walked into my class of 12 year olds last week, to a chorus of 'G'day mate'. Love em, just love em.
Planning my Christmas holiday should be filling me with excitement and optimism. In a way it is - something different might shake me up a bit, in a good way. I have become complacent here, with my easy Spanish life. My plans have changed a bit since I last posted about my holiday, now I will be visiting Paris, Bruges, The Hague and Amsterdam - back in Spain for NYE. I wish I could stop thinking about the future all the time. No matter where I am, or if I am doing something I have looked forward to for years, I am always thinking about what is next.
Last night we had a DVD night, we got The Transporter (purely for perving purposes) and Before Sunset and Before sunrise. Way, way, way too much dialogue in one night. We should have stuck to action. The scene in The Transporter where Frank beats up about 20 guys while wearing no shirt, pretty much made the night. We squealed like children at the fair and attempted to pause the scene in the best, ab flexing places. Yeah, I ain't no classy world traveller.
It's strange, I think I miss Cambridge and Edinburgh more than I miss Melbourne. I'm also wondering, is it possible to be nostalgic about moments which never happened? Of course it's not, but I am. Ha, this post is just, so stupid.