Tax Day.

It's Tax Day in the US. But when I woke up this morning it was April 15, 2010, raining and cold in Argentina. And I thought, tax day was April 16. Of course I hadn't filed my taxes yet, I'm in Argentina I get an excuse to be lazy and late for everything. But lucky for me I have one fantastic Mom who knows how to use a scanner. So I thought I could escape taxes...but technology always finds you way to do something, doesn't it? And next year I'm sure the IRS would love for me to explain the year gap in my employment as "working illegally in Buenos Aires." How do you claim sketchy Western Union errands I make for my roommate, where I get to hold 10 thousand pesos in mis manos for about 2 minutes? I'm sure that's non-taxable.

Miami Ad School has informed me that they have all of my application information. Well. This is it people. Now we wait. Until this I must twiddle my thumbs. toes. legs. anything that moves and displays my sever anticipation to know. Then I must figure out one thing. How the hell am I going to pay for this? And what the hell is in Minnesota?

So today I didn't prepare for my classes. Surprise surprise. But the thing is my institute just added three new students to an existing student I already had. Which is already quite awkward since we had already built a nice one:one classroom environment. Let's be honest, with one student I can pretend to teach, I've gotten away with it for almost a year now and it seems to be working out quite well. But four students? You can't hide bad teaching skills with friendly conversation. There just 'aint no where to go. So what do I do? Pretend to have a thought out lesson plan and somehow get my students talking about foreign immigrants from Peru and Bolivia in Argentina that are taking all of their "dirty jobs." Obviously.

My goal lately has been to see how awkward I can make a situation before some shuts it down. Or someone just ends it by kissing someone else. now, that's what I call locking it up.

Tomorrow I joyfully get to go to my internship where everyone is generously spreading a cold around the office. In a one roomed office of 10 people you would think someone would say, "Mira, tienes que ir a tu casa." But, no. This Argentina and everyone shares everything. Even there mate when they're sick. Dudes. You wonder why Gripe A [swine flu] is so out of control in winter. Exhibit A. Next, we'll tackle hand washing.


-E.

Si pero No.

How are you my eight readers? The demands for better posts was just too much, I had to meet demands. Plus, I missed you, Blog. It's nice to write about other things besides fixed questions for an application. Like how amazing my rainy afternoon nap was. And scrapping the last of the peanut butter from the jar Meg left me. And how I'm really confused what to fill my free time with now that I don't have an application to avoid working on.

It's been brought to my attention that I only have six weeks left here in this wonderful country. Yes, I just said Argentina was wonderful. For all its ridiculous and obnoxious things I love to complain about, I adore it for everything it has been to me. Even if I had to jump over the urine from the homeless man laying in the street peeing last night. Even if.

Also there are some pretty great things just getting started in my life. pretty great things, I say.
Yesterday, my internship had me making phone calls to the US. Simple task. Of course the man on the other online was confused when I responded to questions with Si, por favor. I never thought it would be so confusing to speak English. I guess I have my niches where I speak it. And one of them for the last year has not been cold calling strangers.

So now the next few weeks I will be worried about my application. I will have to find distractions. As someone brilliant I know says, "Distractions are the spices of life."

leaves are falling

The date from last entry is spaced out further than normal. At this point, to get on the computer and do anything else besides work on my application I just feel guilty. So this is really just an update to let you know that I am alive, and no my application is not finished.
But. I did help bring Meg's 24th Birthday in style. I also went to Uruguay last week and rode a bike around the beach-side. Had a wonderful asado with an Argentine family on Easter. "Un"celebrated the departure of Meg, also in style. And now I'm here. In my apartment slaving away at this damn application.

Write again soon when I'm not so bitter.

I better get accepted into this school, that's all I'm saying.

E

piece of mind.

I'm getting itchy for new clothes. The clothes are a. one size fits all and b. overly expensive for their worth. I miss the Target clearance rack. sigh. I've been wearing the same clothes for about ten months now. It's getting repetitive. Mom sent some new shirts a while back, but it's just not the same.
I'm gonna miss this country. It's been so long since I've had to say goodbye to something without knowing when or if I'll see it again. It's a strange concept. I came home the other day and greeted my tiny closet of a room and I was overcome with that feeling. This is my home for the moment. I like it. I'm happy. But I know I can't stay. Maybe that's why I've been holding something back. Another part thinks the place is too exhausting and unappreciative of my greatness, I've gotten what I was looking for out of my time here, and now, it's time to return back home. Did I just write the beginning of a time traveling novel?

Next week I'm heading off to Uruguay for a few days. Just like all those regular ex-pats do to renew their visas and pretend like "they really just felt like getting away for a little while." We all know it's a lie, one day the Argentine government will catch on. Oh, who am I kidding, we all know the Argentine government doesn't give a crap about the foreigners living in this country. Every single job I've had here has openly been "under-the-table." This how people run effective businesses in Argentina. That and letting their employees come in at 10am.

My mental deadline for my MAS application is the week after next. I'm getting closer with ideas for this video. Don't worry, I work really well under pressure. I think.

-E.

what the wwhhhaaat?

I only have two more months in this wonderful Argentine journey.
That's really all my thoughts right now.
And this application, which I'm secretly beginning to call names.

-E.

Take the bus story and you read it. you read it!

I love starting my morning feeling like a cow in a holding pin. The metro in this city before 9:30am is a disaster. Un quilombo. But I was forced to ride on this rodeo of city transportation because my translation skills were needed before my regular arrival time. But I was greeted by someone else getting me, the intern, coffee. What the what?! I love this place.

So, for those of you whom are dedicated readers you may remember Tales from the Collectivo...also known as bus stories. Well, they're back. With the mother of all stories.
Meg and I decided to take the bus home on Saturday night with the trusty number 59. As luck would have it we caught one just as we arrived at the stop. Late-night riders were occupying all the seats, so Meg took her luck next to the number one hottie on the bus, while I hang out next to the handicap bars. Then. Out of no where pops in this dude to wedge himself into the small space between myself and the bus window. My nose smells him before my eyes can even grace his presence. Some cutie across from me darts his eyes at me, then Smelly Man, then back at me. You wish, dude. What can a girl do? I guess politely mumble to her best friend (still rubbing shoulders with Hottie Mchotterson) "Yeah, that´s just not going to happen," as she moves away from the smell.
Smelly Man does some tricks, like tries to light his cigarette backwards and drop & pick-up his lighter a million times. Meg and I are thoroughly dialoguing the events when we realize the bus has stopped and in storm six Argentine Policia to begin harassing Smelly Man. How they were able to get so close to him without wearing Purell, I don't know. There was about 5 minutes of authoritative yelling. some bitch slapping. woman police officer holding Smelly Man back. Smelly Man shouting "No tengo nada! No tengo nada!" Me squeezing Meg's hand with extreme excitement of events unfolding in front of our little American eyes.
The police officers finally drag Smelly Man off the bus and have their way...something not as excited I'm sure as they make it seem in those cop shows. But it was definitely material for TrueTV.

Oh, number 59.

St. Patty's Day was a bust, unfortunately. Being soaked before I even arrived at Meg's apartment was quite the downer. But don't worry we have the final installment in Thursday Night Dinner coming up. Lots of potential for hat wearing. If you know what I mean.

Also I purchased my tickets for Uruguay. I'm ready for my fourth South American country visit. It's a small one, but lots of potential. And there's a boat ride involved.

Application coming along like road construction in San Antonio. And speaking of home, I'll be there in about two months. No puedo creerlo!

-E.

You never fail.

Yesterday, I saw a man trying to hail a garbage truck, what I can only imagine he thought to be a bus. At least one hopes. Of course yelling at the garbage men for not being collectivo drivers is taking the situation a little too far, dude.
It must be crazy week. This morning some older lady stopped on the sidewalk to yell at me "HELLO" in English. Something I only hear from drooling men staring at my chest, and surprising not interested in learning anymore words in English. Unless, they come before words like "yes, please" or "tell me more."

Tonight will continue the new tradition Meg and I have of Thursday Night Dinner. I feel like I'm cheating a little bit on my original Thursday Night Dinner that I used to have with Liz in college.

But it's nice to have a little bit of stability in this city, especially when you deal with the crazies I have been dealing with.

The girl that sits across from me at my internship has a cookie jar on her desk. The problem is that her desk is my desk. She's my desk buddy, if you can say that. Frequently, she will stick her hand in there and eat a cookie. Everytime she does this my hand wants to jump out and snatch the damn cookie from her. and eat it.

The other girls in the office usually play terrible 90s mixes on their computers for the whole office to hear. Yesterday featured Whitney Houston's, "I will always love you." Including a sing-along. People would agree it's one of the best international hits to play in the work place...besides "whoop! There it is" Nothing is better than that.


My roommates are coming back next week. I'm really excited. The "fourth roommate" and I have been in the tiny apartment alone together for weeks now. I'll go days without seeing him, but I know he's home because sometimes I see that the bathroom floor is wet. Or there are food stains uncleaned on the stove. Sometimes, just sometimes, the door will be cracked open. And even though I can't see him, I'm comforted that some fresh air is breezing through the dark cave.

I've completed to two of my application questions. Only eight more and a video. Because of my inherent ability to procrastinate I've told myself the deadline is actually 10 days before the real one. But shhhh don't tell my brain, he's convinced.

Also, updates on my attitude: I'm getting excited to come home! I'm already planning a trip up to North Texas for about a week to hit all those cool peeps in the Denton, Dallas and Ft. Worth area that I haven't seen since pre-South American experience. Don't worry Austin-ites I'll be muy cercita de vos.

Chau amigos.

-E.