Language of Reality

18 Apr

What a difference a week makes!!

I went from the bustling concrete jungle of Madrid, living in complete bliss of the oblivion of language, to the METH infested reality of Midwest America and endless incorrect grammar.

Oh Spain, how I will miss your beautiful women who can roll cigarettes with one hand and drive a motorbike in 6 inch heels with the other, and dashing men who have their shit together whilst wearing tailored suits and simultaneously staring at me like they could either take me to dinner or eat me for dinner. Either way, I now find myself in a world with obese women whose arms are triple the size of my thigh and flying cow shit amidst lunging horses. My fascination with nuns in sneakers and rosaries and drag queens outside my doorstep, are surreally replaced with raving Republicans and scary misplaced hair extensions coupled with clown inspired makeup.

What once was unemployed bliss filled days and late evenings full of discotheques and Flamenco dancing, is now 8 painful hours of clock watching account reconciliation and evenings spent watching tornado warnings and 80’s cover bands.

Though Spain offered the most peaceful feeling of home one has ever encountered, I realize that the experience of finding a place that feels yours is what it must feel like to find this thing called a soul mate. The next chapter is just around the corner of a summer of serious reality, but a reality that brings an appreciation of the ability to create for yourself a next chapter at all.

So goodbye bread and hello 20 lbs that the bread left on my ass. Perhaps in another time and another place, Spain, I will see you again. But for now (and the next 3 years), hello Kansas and hello…chapter…


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