varias cosas.

ok get ready for many types of random. ready, set, go.

i read this spanish article about kids somewhere in asia who are going through treatment for addiction to the internet. it works because it gives them electric shocks and they know it will physically hurt to go online. i need this treatment immediately. i have looked at two full screens of people´s pictures on facebook... probably like 40 albums in the past two days, maybe more. it is this constant need to feel connected to the world i left behind i guess. i need some shock therapy for this.

spanish people created the best things ever and i didn´t even realize it until now. they are something in between a cookie and a cracker. they are crackers, with just a little bit of sweet. i bought about 200 cookies for one euro yesterday and i am in heaven because i finally have something other than chocolate to snack on (and believe me, even i do not feel right about snacking on chocolate). they are healthy - semi-healthy - and i am happy. i also bought honey-nut cornflakes. yay!

i miss my sarcasm. i cannot even be sarcastic in spanish because something wouldn´t translate correctly and i´d just be talking like a fool or a mean person, neither of which would be suitable for everday life. plus, i don´t get the jokes that people make in spanish. they are above my head. oh, how i miss dad´s stupid jokes (i love them dad!) and laughing about stupid things with nood in the room when we are delirious from too much work. (and laughing with anyone in general i guess.) it´s not like i don´t laugh. it´s like i don´t laugh as much.

i ate lunch with amaia today and it was grand. she told me she is going to take me to an american restaurant where we can eat REAL BROWNIES. ahhhhhhhhhhh!

i went running today and it was like discovering a parallel universe. (geez, this is weird. i just realized that in two consecutive blogs i have talked about aliens and parallel universes... where is all this sci-fi stuff coming from?) i descended this huge hill. (can you say descended without saying down after?) and then all of a sudden there was the river! how could i have not discovered this section of pamplona before? it´s like a hidden part. there were a gazillion people going for walks with their family etc, and it was supercool. bridges, little tents of veggie growing, a park with softball fields, etc, people canoing in the river, winding paths. so much new stuff for discovering!

it´s only too bad that the hill i had to run back up on my way home was like morton hill (the same steepness/grade) but 7 times as long. that was fun. i almost followed these three guys that were running down another street after we went up the big hill, but i decided i would remember where it was and go back another day. it looked pretty sweet.

i can´t get myself together right now. no motivation for the whole homework thing. although i do have a large amount of energy right now, i can´t seem to target where to put it.

oh sundays. sundays in spain are bumdays. everything is closed. and i mean everything. ok, not everything. but most things. i´m kinda irritated that my sentences are 3 words long right now, but i´m not going to fix that because i´m lazy.

I read a short story by Borges, a supposedly very famous and important spanish surrealist writer. i can´t really get the jist of it. (jist? is that word and did i spell it right? is it gist?) this man is poor because he bought a very secluded plot of farming land. and he reads Mil y Una Noches (1001 nights - i´m thinking that´s the whole thing that aladdin, etc came from) and has horrible nightmares about it and realizes that his life has nothing to offer him. so he goes to a doctor, becomes very sick, and eventually recuperates. he is traveling back to his farm and stops at a grocery store to eat. at this grocery store there is another group of three poor farmers and a old guy dressed like a gaucho (olden days in the south of spain). the three poor farmers start a fight with him and he doesn´t have a weapon to fight back. all of a sudden, the old gaucho guy gives him a dagger. so he has this dagger to fight and then... i believe... the three guys just leave. and the man thinks that he would have preferred to die in this situation, above any others - in the situation of a fight these three men. then he starts walking home with the dagger in hand.

what does that even mean? surrealism. i don´t get it.

I believe it is time to answer some of the questions i am supposed to prepare about the Borges story now. Ok.

hasta luego.