the view from here
happiness and joy is my…
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…fan!
today i accomplished an amazing feat! Summer (perhaps women everywhere??) would be proud, for it was a strong-independent-woman thing to do. without the help of a man, nay- without the help of an instruction booklet even(!) i, rachel, single handedly assembled a fan.
yesterday i was melting like a root beer flavored popsicle in the hand of a sticky child on a hot summer day.
yesterday, i didn’t even enter my room because it felt like the inside of a pottery kiln.
yesterday, i was miserable.
currently, i am laying here, (studies on pause) smiling in front of my glorious “hawaiian breeze” fan, letting the cool air blow my too-short-to tuck-behind-my-ear bangs across my forehead… and guess what?! it’s not even annoying…
because today, i am not sweating (the bangs are not sticking to me!!)
today, i can longer be likened to a root beer flavored popsicle…
because today:
i am much more like a cucumber. cool. very cool indeed.
fabulous, amazing, breeze producing machine!!
why hello there… i think i’m in love! (explanation of the magnets…jenni bought me these for christmas… as of right now, the only metal strip that i own, which holds magnetic objects, is my fan. so there you have it. magnets on my fan.)
spelling bee looser.
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so i ‘ve always had this little saying that, in my overuse of it, has become somewhat cliche. i use it to not only justify, but to boast about my deficiency…namely in the area of spelling. yes, that’s right “spelling” as in, “when i was in third grade i somehow made it to the spelling bee and lost in the first round by misspelling the word choose” …it goes something like this:
i’m a terrible speller because i’m a genius. all genius’s can’t spell.
((by the way, i maintain that this is (usually) true, it makes me feel better))
i used to be able to coast through life with my little “spelling problem.” i made it all the way to grad school misspelling words like akward and restraunt…spell check became (and still is) my second best friend.
today my genius-inability-to spell-trait, became a problem for me.
anatomy and physiology is killing me. i am dying a quick death- ((because the course is accelerated)). today was day three and my misspelling is very problematic. i missed four questions for spelling errors. that test score fell way below the line of acceptable or genius-ness. i feel like an idiot. my genius trait is now causing me to be anything but a genius.
i can’t spell. period, the end. i especially can’t spell stupid latin words that i can’t even pronounce. i can’t spell words like “medial epicondyle of the humerus, deltoid tuberosity, or olecranon fossa.” i can’t even spell february without spell check.
I can tell you where all these crazy latin-y bones are on the human body. this is not the problem. the problem is my genius trait.
will someone kindly explain this to my instructor? i have a feeling she has little patience for genius’s such as myself who can not spell worth crap. her red pen is marking my tests. i hate red.
okay, enough complaining…i’m off to study some more and fight my genius complex.
caio.
oh, and p.s. …in case you are finding yourself somewhat ‘baffled” at the arrogance of my self proclaimed genius-ness…know that i jest. mostly.
el bano clausterphobia
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so i just returned from a trip to egypt. good times! there is so much to say about it, where to begin?
i think blogging about the camels, pyramids, the nile, incredible breath taking ruins, extreme heat, faluca’s, traveler’s diareah, snorkeling, scuba diving, and sunburns can be addressed in a later blog…for now, the story i have to tell seems much more important. the major reason being, as it was happening to me, i kept thinking to myself, “someday this will make a great blog! i will laugh about it… later. so i must live to tell the story.”
how’s that from dramatic introductions?
so there i was in the coastal scuba diving town of dahab. it was my last night in egypt and i was exhausted…so much so that i decided to do something quite out of the ordinary. i skipped out on dinner and headed back to the hotel to shower and go to bed. nothing, not amazing company, sitting in a restraunt right on the beach, or even musaka could entice me to stay. after a long day (make that week) of constant sweating and ocean water, a shower and a soft bed was just about the most amazing thing i could possibly imagine.
so… there i was ALONE at the hotel, showering. so far, so good. that is, until i decide to finish and head to that sweet soft bed.
there is something to be said about old rusty, sketchy door nobs, that are attached to old, rusty, sketchy doors, in rusty old, sketchy hotels, in countiries where building safety codes are probably non existent. my advice is this: if it has any of those two adjectives to describe the door that can close you into a very small enclosed space…don’t shut the door too hard.
yah, so i shut the door… hard. and as i stood there in this 5×5ft room trying to open the door with much futility, i quickly realized that this would not work. the windows were barred, it was late, and no one would be back from the restaraunt for a least another 45 mintues.
i was utterly trapped.
i am utterly clautsterphobic.
i was in a bano
in egypt. (which technically makes it a hammamm, not a bano)
this sucked. in a big way.
i banged. i kicked, i pounded, i calmly spoke out the barred window… “hello? ummm… i’m stuck in the bathroom…hello?” (again, with much futility), i tried not to hyperventilate, i thought about this blog to cheer myself up, i stood on the toilet and put my face up to the barred window to breathe, and i kicked the stupid door some more, just to prove that i was really really irritated and tired of being locked in this clammy little bathroom.
so after about a half an hour of this…to make a long story short, i was rescued! one click from the other end and i was out. the owner was laughing at me.
i was not laughing…okay, i laughed some.
this is bano clausterphobia.
i miss egypt.
it happened in here…is this hut not terrifying?
woy yoy yoy
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it is evident that political tension runs high and deep when there are three different names for the exact same salad.
there’s this salad, which simple as it is, i love.
the ingredients consist of:
chopped tomato, red onion, cucumber, parsley, lemon, olive oil
i eat a lot of it here.
so if you are in jerusalem at a kosher restaurant, it’s the israelli salad, go to the old city and order it, it’s the arab salad, i’ve also seen it listed neutrally as middle eastern salad…
the political situation here is sad. i wish it was as simple as the name of a salad… much easier issue to resolve than the reality that the israelli’s and palestinians face daily. i’m not trying to make light of a terrible situation by reducing it to my talk of salad, it’s just that as i sit here today in my little cafe, eating my crunchy (it’s israelli this time) salad, and watching the idf solider with an automatic slung back over his shoulder (an all too common sight) order a coffee, while bob marley’s buffalo solider lingers through air settling heavy upon me…
i wonder if peace will ever make it’s way here.
