After being mildly discusted by the tenedor libre in Once, I cooked for myself yesterday and was pleased witht the result for the first time in a while. Browned onions and acelga, added late a bit of garlic, alot of ginger, a little salt and, get this: two peeled, chopped nectarines right at the end, dominating the dish with delicious, sweet tanginess. Served over brown rice, had to serve twice.
Mood swiNG
I stuffed my face at the veggie buffet last night and then came and sat down here, been at this computer for just about 16 hours now. Spent most of the night simultaneously playing minesweeper and watching professional starcraft match replays to keep myself awake (no sleeping allowed in the internet cafe).
Woke up from my numbing haze a few hours ago because I saw I have a job interview tomorrow to work on editing an English math textbook being adapted by an outsourcing company down here. Now I need to buy shoes and get lots of sleep, so I'm headed back to the unfriendly hostel to sack out as soon as possible (suddenly there are so many things to do).
My mood is really tied up in food and work (and blood sugar level, right now 152). SURVIVAL: the truth is that we evolved for it, occasional rationality is a fringe benefit.
Woke up from my numbing haze a few hours ago because I saw I have a job interview tomorrow to work on editing an English math textbook being adapted by an outsourcing company down here. Now I need to buy shoes and get lots of sleep, so I'm headed back to the unfriendly hostel to sack out as soon as possible (suddenly there are so many things to do).
My mood is really tied up in food and work (and blood sugar level, right now 152). SURVIVAL: the truth is that we evolved for it, occasional rationality is a fringe benefit.
Good another morning
I woke up on the sidewalk this morning, a few blocks from the internet
cafe. The cool, damp breeze blowing over my cheek, sucking away my
warmth, aroused a strange mixture of hunger and anger in me. Since
writing yesterday, I'd only eaten two more chocolate bars and half a
pack of crackers; maybe today is the day for pan-asian buffet. It's
possible that, three nights out, the discomfort of this situating is
starting to get to me. I thought about how nice it would be to have
my sleeping bag, but then I though about how that woud double the
weight and volume I'm carrying. My legs were cold, my jacket took
care of the rest. Blood sugar 271.
cafe. The cool, damp breeze blowing over my cheek, sucking away my
warmth, aroused a strange mixture of hunger and anger in me. Since
writing yesterday, I'd only eaten two more chocolate bars and half a
pack of crackers; maybe today is the day for pan-asian buffet. It's
possible that, three nights out, the discomfort of this situating is
starting to get to me. I thought about how nice it would be to have
my sleeping bag, but then I though about how that woud double the
weight and volume I'm carrying. My legs were cold, my jacket took
care of the rest. Blood sugar 271.
I spent 14 hours straight at the 24hr internet cafe yesterday, I was
just dicking around some of the time, but I got motivated to rewrite
my resume to apply for math textbook editing, so I did that. I had
actually arranged to hang out with Max at his unfriendly hostel and
then shower and sleep at my friend's happy community house nearby, but
as the evening progressed I just didn't feel like dealing with the
social implications of either encounter. I also didn't feel like
interrupting my resume project, so I ended up cancelling both. One of
the things about bathing is that then I have to put back on the same
dirty clothes, which makes it feel pointless. I carry laundry soap
with me and can wash stuff pretty quick in the sink, but then I need a
place to dry it.
I concluded long ago the comfort, convenience, and efficiency are not
valid ends in themselves, though they can be empowering in reaching
other goals. Thus I may be deciding to stay here even though the
summer promises to be oppressively hot and humid. Thus I decided to
sleep out last night.
Good morning
I slept outside amongst some pallets of bricks last night after signing off at 2245hrs. I woke up at 0550hrs because it was full sunlight and trains were going past and I was worried the supply yard would open; I see why daylight savings time is done, even if it's a logistical pain. I found a bench on the sidewalk and lay there for an hour. I walked about fifteen blocks, bought and ate a package of alfahors, but not because I was hungry, got on the subway but got off after three stops because it was hot and I wasn't going anywhere in particular. I wanted to use my credit card to buy food so I walked until I found a grocery store and bought five chocolate bars and a liter of milk. I ate one and drank the milk on a small retaining wall on the sidewalk in the shade around the corner.
I thought about a plan for returning to Boston. My dad found a cheap ticket I could by to New York. I could finish my bachelors in ath at UMass Boston; I could work(?) and live in Dorchester again.
I thought about a plan for staying here. Max and I found a cheap apartment available 1 December. I have a wad of sweaty, under-the-table cash with which I was partially compensated for my work in October yesterday so I could put down the deposit anytime. I could keep working, maybe get a job as a real English teacher, stay in better contact with folks I now know in this city.
I felt itchy. I though about a plan for today and this week. I coud go check into the unfriendly hostel and shower and wash my clothing. The secret weekly price is competitive (the nightly price is exorbitant). I could make it a point to go out alot anyways.
The climate for the next three months here is going to be uncomfortably hot and wet. The climate for the next three months in Boston is going to be uncomfortably cold and wet. I thought about a plan for going back to El Bolson for the summer. I could do physical labor and eat vegetables and be outside and spend very little.
I realized I was happy for the moment to lie on the cool, macroscopically clean sidewalk at 1000hrs as the day started. The camping store on the frontage I occupied was opened by a clean, rugged-looking young man.
I thought about money. How much I'd spent unnecessarilly in the day and a half since I got back into town, simply for not having anything to do. Maybe if I dan't finished my novel, I would have spent, and eaten, less.
I thought about the things I'd had stolen. How I needed a new insulated, refigerable container for my insulin, a new headlight, a new wearable container for my cards and cash, and a new shoulder bag to put this stuff in.
I walked to the same old internet cafe because I had some vague reason to go there and no reason to go anywhere else.
I thought about a plan for returning to Boston. My dad found a cheap ticket I could by to New York. I could finish my bachelors in ath at UMass Boston; I could work(?) and live in Dorchester again.
I thought about a plan for staying here. Max and I found a cheap apartment available 1 December. I have a wad of sweaty, under-the-table cash with which I was partially compensated for my work in October yesterday so I could put down the deposit anytime. I could keep working, maybe get a job as a real English teacher, stay in better contact with folks I now know in this city.
I felt itchy. I though about a plan for today and this week. I coud go check into the unfriendly hostel and shower and wash my clothing. The secret weekly price is competitive (the nightly price is exorbitant). I could make it a point to go out alot anyways.
The climate for the next three months here is going to be uncomfortably hot and wet. The climate for the next three months in Boston is going to be uncomfortably cold and wet. I thought about a plan for going back to El Bolson for the summer. I could do physical labor and eat vegetables and be outside and spend very little.
I realized I was happy for the moment to lie on the cool, macroscopically clean sidewalk at 1000hrs as the day started. The camping store on the frontage I occupied was opened by a clean, rugged-looking young man.
I thought about money. How much I'd spent unnecessarilly in the day and a half since I got back into town, simply for not having anything to do. Maybe if I dan't finished my novel, I would have spent, and eaten, less.
I thought about the things I'd had stolen. How I needed a new insulated, refigerable container for my insulin, a new headlight, a new wearable container for my cards and cash, and a new shoulder bag to put this stuff in.
I walked to the same old internet cafe because I had some vague reason to go there and no reason to go anywhere else.
My work
As I mentioned I've been working at immersion camps for Argentine students of English. These are two-night programs designed for classes of students already fluent in the language to give them a chance to practice outside of an academic setting. It's a pretty good idea, I know the only way I learned to speak Spanish was by coming down here (and Not working in the English industry, which is terrible for my Spanish.) Each camp has a theme around which the activities are supposed to be centered.
Unfortunately, the organization is so poor that the quality of the camps is pretty low. I know that part of the problem is staff morale, they change up the work schedule all the time and we often don't have all the information in sufficient time to relax into work. Even though we usually arrive the day before to prepare, we often don't really use the time, the last-minute invention, lack of planning and coordination trickles down to the camps themselves.
I feel terrible about participating because I feel like most of what we do is confuse and make fun of the children who attend these camps. It starts at the beginning when we go through their luggage to confiscate Spanish-language materials, usually planting a bra in one of the boy's bags just to humiliate him. Then we put them in groups and force them to produce visual or performance artworks, then we put them in a new set of groups, then yet another set. The we leave them directionless for an hour or so, then we yell at them that we are behind schedule and to come enthusiastically and immediately together. Then we eat a meal for an hour and a half. Then we have a campfire, where we do the same tired activities compiled years ago and known to the teachers who bring their classes back each year.
I don't think there's anything wrong with the idea of a two-day immersion camp, but the execution is stressful and deprecatory for all involved. It is all I can do to keep from just walking off the job; I get paid about US$100 per camp, which is good for a job in the Engish industry.
Unfortunately, the organization is so poor that the quality of the camps is pretty low. I know that part of the problem is staff morale, they change up the work schedule all the time and we often don't have all the information in sufficient time to relax into work. Even though we usually arrive the day before to prepare, we often don't really use the time, the last-minute invention, lack of planning and coordination trickles down to the camps themselves.
I feel terrible about participating because I feel like most of what we do is confuse and make fun of the children who attend these camps. It starts at the beginning when we go through their luggage to confiscate Spanish-language materials, usually planting a bra in one of the boy's bags just to humiliate him. Then we put them in groups and force them to produce visual or performance artworks, then we put them in a new set of groups, then yet another set. The we leave them directionless for an hour or so, then we yell at them that we are behind schedule and to come enthusiastically and immediately together. Then we eat a meal for an hour and a half. Then we have a campfire, where we do the same tired activities compiled years ago and known to the teachers who bring their classes back each year.
I don't think there's anything wrong with the idea of a two-day immersion camp, but the execution is stressful and deprecatory for all involved. It is all I can do to keep from just walking off the job; I get paid about US$100 per camp, which is good for a job in the Engish industry.
My diet
My diet has suffered since getting to the city, and especially since beginning work at the immersion camps regularly. Part of the problem is not having a kitchen shelf on which to accumulate good food choices for later. Another part is the patterned conditioning of being paid in food for five months while we worked on farms through WWOOF. At camp, there are three meals and three desserts a day, plus a suitcase of candy for selling to the children, all free to me. And I feel like I should eat it all because I can, like I'm getting away with something, even though it makes me feel like shit. There is the ever-looming spectre of camp ending in one or two days, and the false notion that after that, who knows? This is silly, because I actually have plenty of money to buy food.
I have also been eating at camp for the anesthetic effect of sat fat and sugar. This is obviously bad; it's a habit that I picked up the first summer I worked in education in Newton, where I would duck into the camp office for a handful of chocolate chips every day, sometimes several times. I did it sometimes as a youth advisor too. I am terrified of leadership I guess, and numbing myself out can keep me from showing that terror to the group. One thing I have learned about leading is that if people know you are scared and unsure, they don't want to do what you suggest; but obviously this isn't a good way to fix that.
Recently, eating, or not eating, because I'm scared has spilled over into the rest of my life. Somehow right before this sharing today I was eating a fast food combo meal, complete with caffinated soda, all of which numbed me out alot, but seems to have awakened me as well (to the depths of my depravity, I don't know). I am sure that I had already consumed sufficient calories for the day prior to this meal. Last night for dinner I had two packs of alfajors and a chocolate bar, and that just made me feel terrible and alone, so, go figure.
Sometimes when I'm walking around the city feeling like I would rather not exist, buying food, even if I'm not hungry, makes me feel empowered. The problem is that buying food implies eating it immediately or carrying it around indefinitely, neither of which is usually that great. Sometimes I fast for up to 24 hours at a time, which makes me feel righteous and tired, but I don't think this is too healthy either. Note for concerned parents: I'm not going to start 12-step work because of comments on this post.
I have also been eating at camp for the anesthetic effect of sat fat and sugar. This is obviously bad; it's a habit that I picked up the first summer I worked in education in Newton, where I would duck into the camp office for a handful of chocolate chips every day, sometimes several times. I did it sometimes as a youth advisor too. I am terrified of leadership I guess, and numbing myself out can keep me from showing that terror to the group. One thing I have learned about leading is that if people know you are scared and unsure, they don't want to do what you suggest; but obviously this isn't a good way to fix that.
Recently, eating, or not eating, because I'm scared has spilled over into the rest of my life. Somehow right before this sharing today I was eating a fast food combo meal, complete with caffinated soda, all of which numbed me out alot, but seems to have awakened me as well (to the depths of my depravity, I don't know). I am sure that I had already consumed sufficient calories for the day prior to this meal. Last night for dinner I had two packs of alfajors and a chocolate bar, and that just made me feel terrible and alone, so, go figure.
Sometimes when I'm walking around the city feeling like I would rather not exist, buying food, even if I'm not hungry, makes me feel empowered. The problem is that buying food implies eating it immediately or carrying it around indefinitely, neither of which is usually that great. Sometimes I fast for up to 24 hours at a time, which makes me feel righteous and tired, but I don't think this is too healthy either. Note for concerned parents: I'm not going to start 12-step work because of comments on this post.
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