It seems all I ever do on here is complain that I don't know what to do with my life. I make the decision not to think about the future at least 10 times a day, but it doesn't work. I was miserable in High School and the only thing that got me through was thinking about how wonderful the future was going to be. I'm not miserable now, but I guess I got into the habit of always thinking forward and now that I can't it's a little frustrating. It's not that I don't have any choices, more that I have too many and no single one appeals more than the others. Wah wah wah. I don't think freedom really exists, there's only different degrees of being trapped. I am more free than most people I know, but I keep trapping myself. La la la la.
Okay, how about an interlude from all this soul-searching/over-analysing/shit-talking?
Right now I am in a café with wireless internet connection. There is a big screen television playing some sports game. There is an older man pouring a large beer for a customer (it's half past one), there's a semi-drunk man sitting at the counter watching the television and occasionally my breasts. The staff greet every woman with 'hola guapa' 'hello beautiful/gorgeous'. It is warm and sunny outside, a man is sitting a couple of tables away and his cigarette smoke is drifting into my recently washed hair. I am listening to We are Scientists and downloading the latest episodes of Vampire Diaries and Life Unexpected (don't judge me!). I'm looking out the large windows, I see lots of old people (Spain is good to the oldies) waddling along in their own little world, the women are wearing fur coats, the men are smoking cigars, carrying shopping bags and some are leering at young women. Young Spanish people are walking around, girls wearing the typical uniform here of high boots over tight dark blue jeans. I'm listening to Paolo Nutini. The staff are extending the canopy outside so that more people can sit in the shade. I can smell coffee, cigarette smoke and hayfever inducing pollen (maybe I can't smell the pollen, but it is affecting my nose nonetheless). I just accidentally made eye contact with the semi-drunk at the counter. A gypsy just came in to ask for a glass of water, they all wear skirts that sweep the floor as they walk. I am still amused by the fact that cafés here have vending machines selling little tins of stuffed olives. So, there's a little bit of my Spanish life for you.
Soon I am going to go shopping, to buy more clothes to add to my ever-increasing amount of things that will never fit into my case when I leave Andalucía in a few months.
Photo: Linus Ricard