When I was in Cambridge, one of the other teachers came up with the idea of going around a circle of people and saying the first thing that came to your head about them. This was usually done after quite a few beers at the pub, since the removal of sobriety kicks tactfulness in the balls…and if the person before you had just used what you had in mind for someone you’d have to speak on the fly ‘ Whore. Bald. Sexy. Selfish. Arrogant. Virgin. Chauvinistic. Accident. Tall. Woody Allen’ - basically this game was a whole lot of trouble, but significantly less dangerously than ‘I have never’. What was my point? Oh, if I were playing that game now (under only the influence of hot chocolate) I would easily label myself as indecisive. I’ve been in Europe for ten months now. I have come to the conclusion that I came over here looking for something, I have no idea exactly what it is, but I haven’t found it yet and I am unsure how to continue looking for something indescribable. The more I try to explain the more I sound like a tool. Shall we all hold hands in a circle and meditate on Te’s missing something-or-other? Someone burn some incense, would you?
So I guess I haven’t really explained anything. Here goes, in short: my job contract ends in June, I’m going over to the UK for a couple of months, then I have NO PLANS. I’ll be back to mopey ‘oh I have no direction now that I’m finally 'living the dream’’ Te. I was dancing around in my room today, in yet another pair of jeans I have hacked into hot pants as a result of boredom (hey atleast I don’t do it to my hair anymore!). I was listening to Justin Bieber on my ipod and making kissy faces into the mirror when I burst into tears at the realisation I am no longer a teenager, and I am no closer to knowing what I want from life than I did at 18. Well, I cried because of that and because I now have wrinkles under my eyes. I have been browsing though some of the 12,000,000 photos I have taken of myself ‘myspace style' over the years, trying to fathom when this wrinkle thing happened; it seems they appeared out of nowhere on my 23rd birthday, along with the (not so irrational) panic about my future.
What have I been doing since King Arthur had his spot of trouble?
Teaching the English .
‘Jose, number five please’
‘ Yes teacher, my father likes cock’
‘you mean: My father likes to cook. cooooook’
‘yes, that I said, my Father likes to cock’.
‘Oooohkay, everyone ‘cook’ ‘cook’ ‘cook’ 'Laura number six’
‘ My father has balls’
‘okay, good, what did you have, Jose?’
‘My father has golden balls’.
Reading awful books – The Vampire Diaries…really? Is it possible for something to be worse than Twilight? No no, it’s not, but it’s close.
Drinking. Then later lamenting the routine of ‘another free shot girls?’ ‘yes please sexy bar tender’ shot shot shot shot. ‘No, I couldn’t possibly do another’ shot shot shot.. Dancing…shot shot shot. Marking homework…shot shot (jusssst kidding). The other night we ordered shots and were asked ’something strong?’ we said yes not expecting to be given JACK DANIELS. Now, I love me some Jack, but not in a shot glass.
Checking the weather forecast three times a day waiting for the promise of sunshine.
Socialising with a hoard of Scottish girls. I am learning their language. They have ‘good chat’.
Photo: Anna Rosa Krau