I figured tonight would be a good night to finally unpack my five huge bags. I did four of them. The fifth will have to wait until tomorrow since what I need to do for the rest of the night is read my students’ short story drafts. So I am sitting at my table after fussing around for two straight hours in my apartment and criticizing it up and down for being so empty and still so ridiculously messy. I am a messy girl–stuff everywhere. I have a project going on in every room, something I have to do to make it look normal. But my proclivity for procrastination overwhelms me everyday and thus, my apartment looks like it does: a wreck.
What I hate is that already–already!–I have a pile of clothes I know I will not wear. I packed for three hours last week all the clothes I thought I’d wear, and now I’m here and I have started a pile of clothes I know won’t touch my body for two years except for today when I unpacked them from my bags and two years from now when I pack them back up. No matter where I am in the world, I will always have an on-going pile of clothes I will never wear. It’s not the same pile, of course, because no matter where I am I give that pile away. But lo and behold, the very next day–on another continent even–I have a brand new pile of clothes I can’t stand. Where do they even come from? I think I have so many clothes that they hide themselves from me as a joke when they know I’m having a Good Will donation day clean out, and then when I’m gone, they resurface in weird places–crunched behind my headboard, hanging down from the door knob in the guest room, stuffed into the bag that held my cat’s medicine. Now that I live in Brazil, they have even more places to hide–the bidet, the trash room, one of the bazillion porches, down in the portero’s office, waiting for me at school…
(Embarassing moment: I’m listening to iTunes right now while I’m writing. So suddenly, Shakira comes on singing “Hips Don’t Lie.” Now, this happens to be a recent anthem of mine and I’m pretty sure my hips don’t lie either because, even though I can’t shake them like Shakira, I can get down. So as soon as I hear this song come on, I start dancing. Who can resist shaking anything to this beat? The dancing in my apartment is fine and all, but I have a HUGE window that opens onto my street, and it’s night, and the lights are on in my apartment and that translates into ANYONE being able to see me dance. It took a minute to really make that connection, and so now I’m sure I have a few more fans than I did a couple of minutes ago. Excellent.)
I got my phone bill. The number of minutes I talked was low, the cost of a month of talking for very few minutes was high, so you do the math. I am psyched about Skype because I can’t handle regular phone bills like that one, especially if I’m going to New Zealand, which is also not a cheap endeavor.
What am I doing?! Living in Brazil and traveling 1/3 of the way around the world? I can’t tell if all this is unreasonable or if the pieces are just falling together this way. I think I am of the opinion that when things are right, when things are just meant to happen, they happen. It’s not like I haven’t had difficult times before, but now, I feel like things are just kind of flowing. This is a new feeling for me.
Okay. I HAVE to get off the internet. Boa noite.