Cut and Paste

Last night, 

I made a collage for 

an art history class.

This morning,

I was cutting it to 

glue onto a bitácora,

a journal of notes and thoughts

used to track one's progress in 

some of the classes here.

---

as I cut it 

while listening to

a lecture about Frida Kahlo,

I noticed some of the pieces

I had glued on were 

falling

off. 

it 

was 

a little bit 

disappointing;

I mean, 

thinking of all that I had done 

to collect these images 

and cut them 

and rip them 

and glue them 

and move them

and re-glue them

and so on and so forth

I had 

considered 

borrowing glue

from someone

to put the pieces back on, 

but then I stopped.

----------

revealed

 to me

in 

that 

moment 

was the nature

of every

single

collage 

that 

I 

have 

ever made.

. . .

yes,  

I can paste all of these 

little bits and pieces

 and segments of 

color and 

people and 

places and 

things,  

from 

newspapers, magazines,

photographs, 

whatever

they may be,

all together

into a

piece

of

art.

i can 

show it off 

and ponder it,

and value all of those 

possible subconscious meanings 

within those combined histories that it holds,

and when I am done observing it

I can store it in a book, that will act as a

guardian clam for this pearl I made, to open up 

when I remember it at some point in the future.

but every collage I have made has come unglued

at some point when I'm not looking, 

from right when I am gluing down

the each to piece the week it 

spends in a notebook,

to the years it spends

in another.

some pieces stick together more than others,

some fall off almost immediately

some rip, some tear 

some move around

when you aren't looking

into something else.

That is what is beautiful about collages

As much glue as I may put on the back of a magazine clipping,

it will only maintain that placement and color and unique location 

for the time I notice it.  

Eventually, all of the pieces start to fall off, blow into the wind,

get forgotten in the bottoms of backpacks and dust pans,

some held onto for a very long time. 

This is what studying abroad has been for me.

With 9 days left , I am beginning to see the family

and friends and places and habits I had pasted all around me 

flutter in the wind of time, to soon be released from this work that

I currently call my life and blow miles and years away to exist

somewhere that I am not and may be never will be. 

I am infinitely thankful

for my chance to be

placed within

these transient

collages of those

I have met, to be stored

back in the dusty file cabinets

of the memories of one's life, to 

dilapidate over time within the 

never ending abundance of

life time experiences. 

El Proceso de Memoria

I went to my swimming class today.
Every thursday from eleven to twelve,
I swim back and forth

over and

over and


over and



over and







I start out by swimming eight front-stroke.
After that I usually do six breast-stroke.

And during the entire time,
I breathe in.
my head goes under.
I breathe out,
my head comes up.

And there is this constant rhythm of
in and out, up and down,
both in my self and my surroundings.
A constant cycle of
"how many laps do I have left?"
"am I at the half way point yet?"
"how many have I done?"
"I think I've got this rhythm and mindset figured out...."
"No, I don't."

and simultaneously
I sometimes think about people,
places and events from the past,
and I use it to push myself forward.

This is usually when I look under.

And then when I bring my head up, there is this sense of immediate existence,
a simpleness of purely being and moving through space.
A constant mix of memory and self-awareness.

In this normal rhythm of most strokes,
there is one that stands out to me:
the back-stroke.

I have been thinking about it a lot.
It is different than all of the others,
in that you are going backwards
in many different senses.

Your face is above the water,
you are completely drawn into the sky
as your entire body propels you forward through the water.

As you are going backwards the entire time, you are simultaneously moving forward.

This is the process of memory.

Every event we go through,
every face we see,
everything
that is stored in our memory is
as much a part of our past as it is our present,
one way or another.

They are behind us, but they drive us forward at the same time.

This constant cycle we go through in
interlacing and
collaging and
overlapping
our memories,

constantly moving forwards and backwards at the same time,
swimming in the present and looking into the sky of our minds
as we propel ourselves into the future.

and that her flowers may grow again

I just 

got to talk with my grandma tonight. 

She made 

a paper bag apple pie for my boyfriend.

To see

her smiling with caring company,

a

 some

one to

chat with,

share stories with,

joke with,

laugh with,

tell her

l i f e 

to

,

a  n  y  

o  n  e,

REALLY,

pleased 

me.

I 

have felt lonely here,

but she,

there,

at

h

home

homehome

homehomehome

s  h  e .......... s  h  e

l      i      v      e     s

a l l     a   l   o   n  e, 

h  o  l  d  i  n  g   all

O           F

t        h          i        s

 care      love  wisdom

warmth  advice   pain

joy   concern   beauty

longing  anger  candy 

a             n             d 

television with Oprah

Ellen        Degeneres, 

Doctor                 Phil

and    the  local  news

cigarette           smoke 

decaffeinated     coffee

darkness and yellowing

ceiling                    tiles

stacks and stacks and stacks

and piles and piles and piles and piles

and boxes and boxes and boxes and boxes and boxes

and folders and files and folders and files and folders and files

of newspaper articles, magazines, photographs, recipes, taxes, rags,

all of these things that constitute who she must be, what world she must exist in

because no one really comes to see her, and what else does she have to work with to 

construct a social life, to understand what life is at this point, to have lived her life all of the

way up to this point, falling in love, moving across the country for him, getting pregnant and having

children, having him leave you for another woman that you have had to see at family reunions for years

now, trying to get things together on her own, going to school and giving up, trying so hard to get back to where she was at one point, turning herself inside-out and upside-down to care for alcoholic lovers that picked away at her,

bit by

b i t    b y

b     i     t           b        y

b        i               t                 b                  y

b                      i                    t                                  b                            y

b                                             i                               t                                               b                                y    

b                                                                                i                                                                               t

until she couldn't recognize herself anymore, and all of that love she had poured out of herself had been snatched as she gave it, and lit on fire to burn down 

every 

last

 beautiful

 flower

 she had planted in her garden

 to maybe 

one day 

sit down and smell 

with someone that just loved her

 and enjoy the sunshine outside and laugh with

but no ones stops to look at her garden now. It has

all been burnt down and all of the smoke from her cigarettes

choke out all of the hopeful seeds to grow a new life she had planted within it.

so she goes out at night time by herself 

when no one is around that she must smile for

and cries into the thirsty soil of her life, 

hoping and praying that 

someone will come 

and that 

her flowers may

 grow again.

All of this.

The most frustrating thing I have come across in life is the copious, vibrant and beautiful tapestries that my mind creates with the possibilities of living. They are always filled with the fluid, electric colors; these mystic individuals I have constructed in my mind look over their shoulders back at me, with eyes screaming at me to come on, to leave everything behind and enjoy and experience all that I can. I get so exhilarated and with all of the strength within me, I jump, so hard, so high, but then my body is slammed back to the ground so hard. Bruises all over my ribs, my hips, my arms and legs, my head crashing against the cold, wet stone floor that I exist in. And none of this room would be wet if it wasn't for my breathing so hard within the anticipation of  breaking this self affixed chain to fly out of here.  The walls get wet from the condensation of my breath, I sit here in the dark, with mold growing on my shoes from lack of usage. And I feel like I'm dying most of the time.

Sigh.

I dropped the ball. I fucked up, whatever your terminology is for it, I did it. Most frustrating of all is that this always happens when I feel as though I finally have things figured out. Just when I get to this stride that feels like progress is being made, out from the ground come rocks, ice, sticks, garbage and whatever else to stop me. It's just that sometimes when I get into the swing of things that are progress, my mind flies infinitely inward and upward. All around within my world and without it. When problems arise, it's so hard to even think about the roots of them, because my mind is perched up at the top branch of the tree all of the time, constantly reaching more and more toward the Sun, away from all that is reality.

     1.

I missed my planned graduation date. As I was busy flying around somewhere else, the graduation deadline approached faster than I could return. If you've ever ran after a bus, you know how this feels. That glorious time-saving opportunity can come and go as it pleases, but it doesn't wait for you. You'll run after it, but it won't see you, and after about a minute of running for your life, you give up because there is no way in hell that you will be catching up with it. So then, you sit sulking in your own stupidity and sluggishness, thinking "if I just wouldn't have....." bitter at first, then sad, and then you just are. You just wait. What more can you do? So, I'll be graduating a semester later. A curse and a blessing, as is everything. 

2.

I've looked and thought about other guys while I am in a relationship. Yes, I know this isn't ideal, but it happened and happens sometimes. It's not something I am proud of, but it is something that comes form my fear of being trapped and controlled and always looking for an escape route when things aren't going as planned in my relationship. Do I act on these thoughts? No. It is my mind taking me to this other, safer, more comfortable place than the present. I tell my boyfriend about all of it because I am honest, but then we stay up talking until five in the morning talking about it. I do a lot to hurt him simultaneously always being honest. I am not a liar and never have been. Just, when one is honest with oneself, any illusions of progress can quickly be destroyed. But I keep trying. I am honest and I make bad decisions a alot.

Beneath all of this, I just feel so detached and disappointed in my time here. I wonder if all I have done has had or will have any real significance to it. All of these times I feel like I am getting somewhere, I keep falling back. I try to establish healthy, productive habits, but they tend to be fleeting moments of beautiful insight as soon as I grasp at them. 

Images swim around on the surface of

 my mind's sea in this golden sunlight that

reflects off of their transient existences

 into the future held in my eyes

of

friends and 

films and 

music and 

traveling and

loving and

learning and

comfortable breakfasts and

moments of insight with

art, love, and food-making

just

doing 

something

with a

purpose unfaltering

and

mountain tops that

have been waiting for

me since I have been here.

And within all of this

I am

never never

never

stopping. 

But then reality hits and I am in a valley looking up at clouds, not mountain tops, trash thrown all around me and that light I had seen within me has disappeared and I am left there walking up a muddy hill in the dark, realizing that I had arrived there at some point as I had psychosomatically descended 

and

fell, 

and

fell 

and

f e l l 

a   n  d

f    e    l    l

a        n        d

f            e            l           l  .

                            \                                                                                                         /

                              \                                                                                                     /

                                \                                                                                                 /

                                  \                                                                                             /

                                    \                                                                                         /

                                      \                                                                                     /

                                        \                                                                                 /

                                          \                                                                             /

                                            \                                                                         /

 to this point. and I always do.

Sometimes I just wish the sides of the valley would flip over into sides of a mountain.

But such is life.

Así Es.

  "That's that." "And so is life." 

 Loose translations of "Así es."

    In being here, Costa Rica, for I think to be beyond the half way point of my stay, I came upon some sort of a revelation. Being assigned a short film project for my filmmaking class, there was lots of going through old footage I have taken in my time here. At first, I had planned to make it about my dark past with an ex, my present confronting problems within myself and loving others whole-heartedly and opening myself up to life, and the last, how I would conquer this in the future.

       However, it has proved quite difficult to attempt to structure the future using videos when all that they are and will be are captured fragments of the past. Over time, video has served me well as a manner of processing events and memories; inserting my present emotions, and allowing me to braid them together with music I have made to establish this core pattern to my work in combining real life experiences with all of the tangled strings of thought and emotion that exist within me.

       So, I had realized in sorting through the past that I had not opened up and allowed myself to experience all that there is, here and there, me and us. It's interesting how much video can simultaneously fool one and reveal to one at the same time. Being here, going through the daily motions of waking up, eating breakfast, going to school, eating lunch, walking home, eating dinner, falling asleep while doing homework, repeating-- I have seen the briskness in which life walks as one ages. When I was just a couple years ago, I wouldn't have thought of anything like this, but coming to college, making bad decisions, getting hurt, standing back up on my own feet, staying late for classes, spending time with friends, working, applying for scholarships, traveling, studying abroad-- all of this adds up and the pace of experiences in my life has increased exponentially. As it is a great thing, sometimes I have forgotten to or been scared of partaking in all of the opportunities around me.

      The realization that I came to is that if I wanted to, I could just stay in Heredia, Costa Rica my whole time here, go to classes, go home, go to sleep, wake up and repeat; close myself off from possible friends because I may label them as "bad people" when I don't even really know them--thinking this whole time that I should structure the world around me, not let in any bad influences. But I've come to understand that if one shuts out any bad from coming into their lives, he or she is also shutting out countless moments of deep, meaningful interaction with oneself, others, and their environment- and at the end of the day, life is what it will be. We can't control it as much as we think we can; either exhaust ourselves from resisting the waves or ride on top of them to somewhere new within and without ourselves.

Así es.

La Fiesta

Today, we are having a party for my host dad, Bernal, and there are all kinds of friends and family here. I just feel so awkward, and am sitting in my room alone. I am so nervous, drinking a cocktail in my room alone. When I have gone out to talk to people, they really don't want to talk very long, so I end up just standing there like an awkward guy. :( I want so bad to talk to people but it is so hard! I hate this. . . .

Thoughts and Reality

Upon coming to Costa Rica and seeing that the mystic exoticism I expected to find either A.) doesn't exist at all or B.) exists in places I have not yet visited, I have been forced to rethink my life here and the expectations I hold. Being that I am an artist, as is everyone that exists, I have the power to physically manifest the reality I want in my mind into a tangible existent object or practice. Maybe this mystic experience and power I have come to search for has existed within me the entire time. I believe that any reality one wishes to live in is entirely possible; it simply must start from within and spiral outwards from oneself. We are the ones in charge of our surroundings and ourselves; we must merge the two in order to live in the reality we wish. This goes along with Tantric Principles of fusing the self with the cosmic to create inner and outer realization. 

Explanation of Tantra

Keeping this concept in mind, many images I have created while being here exist as a physical representation my self and surroundings interacting, existing in two realities in order to find for what I am searching.

The world around us may not be what we want it to in the present, but that doesn't mean we can not change it. The resources required are all around us, inside and out.

Warrior Pose XXI, 2011

The Lesbian Warrior Princess I Know You Could Be, 2011

Sketch for Hat, 2011

Magazine Drawing Study, 2011

Cut Paper Stencil, 2011

Random Weave, 2011

Self Portrait with Fruit, 2011

Drawing on Hand that Probably Makes Me Look Like A Devil Worshipper, 2011

The Internal Conflict of Growing a Beard, 2011

 Screenprint on Old Shirt, 2011

Map to A Furby's Inner-workings, 2011

Visions, 2011

Highlighter Study, 2011

Amy Winehouse Fan Art, 2011

Rebekah Brooks as Amy Winehouse, 2011

Cut Paper Study, 2011

Cut Paper Study, 2011

Cut Paper Study, 2011

Notebook Drawing from A Lonely Day, 2011

Front of my Notebook, 2011

Back of my Notebook, 2011

El verdad

Soy un soltero y un extranjero. No creo que eso cambiará.

Lately

So, lately. 

As in this week, or the moments building up to, the culmination of everything until right now; things have been getting better and busier. From yoga and swimming classes, to making more friends, to making more art and music, things are coming together.

In my Indigenous Ecology class, I am researching Swami Sri Yukteswar, who wrote The Sacred Science, relating yoga, Hindu teachings, and Christianity through scripture, astronomy, and astrology. He also disputed the length of the Great Year in the cycle of human spirituality and suggested that our Sun had a twin star that it rotated around. Such an interesting class!

I built my own screen from boards, fabric and a staple gun in my Screen Printing workshop.

I'm learning to use Adobe Premiere to edit the documentary I''m working on while I'm here in my Artistic Audiovisual Production class.

I learned that a Costa Rican, or Tica wedding is almost identical to those from the U.S. in my Spanish class In the past, they were more similar to Spain due to history, but overtime due to tourism and trade from the U.S., our weddings are very similar.  Apparently a tradition that still goes on is that of the groom and men serenading the bride and women during a party the night before the wedding. The men will be forced to leave the house, the women turn off all of the lights, then the men come and knock on the door and serenade the wife. I think that is only something a guy would do for his wife in the U.S. if he cheated and was desperate to get her back. haha.

In reading for my Latin American Art History class, I have learned about Neoclassical and Baroque architecture in every single Latin American country during the XIX century. I've read all about doric columns, gothic arches, eclectic mixing with Baroque, Neogothic, and Classic architecture. I've read about the heavy influence from France and Italy in the architecture at the time. I am currently reading about the Modern Art movement in Mexico in the XX century. It's all very interesting, but I am so behind in the reading. It is so difficult.

  

In my Textiles class, I have learned how to do Batik, and am learning how to make a pattern from a pencil and paper. Below, I am sporting one of the patterns i put together out of paper. 

I don't think I will be using this one.

Additionally, I have been frequenting a 

ropa americana store here called Tienda Sinai. 

If you read my earlier post about ropa americana, 

I talked about the pools of clothing. This is one. 

                                       

You really have to work for a lower price when 

digging through this small ocean of mixed apparel.

An example of the random clothing

 one might find while searching:

Finding comic relief while searching profusely 

for something of value is a great metaphor for life. 

When situations happen that you don't expect or want, 

you can just laugh at them, take a picture, 

and keep searching. 

I've bought some cheap clothing with cool print on it 

to recycle into something new in my textiles class. 

I am getting so excited about it. 

Here is the Batik from earlier:

Also, I've been learning how to tie new types of knots 

online and making new necklaces from old tee shirts. 

This is my friend Tatiana. She is sitting with a "Granizado," a mixture of ice cream, condensed milk, powdered milk, diced fruit and slushie. It is delicious. 

It's been really great to make a good, solid friend while I've been here. I had trouble making friends upon arrival, but this seems like a very real, deep friendship that is rare to find. I am so lucky!

Life will always keep coming, bringing new opportunities and challenges. 

We are standing in a sea of experiences that we can either get carried away by or sail on top of. 

Pura Mirada

So, when you tell anyone that you are studying in Costa Rica, what do they picture?

-beaches
-jungles
-markets
-exotic animals
-indigenous people
-environmentally friendly
-cheap everything
-and so on.

I say this because these were all things that I thought. I pictured it to be nothing like the U.S.-- to be a tropically colored wonderland of new food, music, and dance, free of pollution or any other terrible trait of "my homeland." Alas, I have been proven wrong. Most of the time, I feel like I haven't left the U.S. at all, and sometimes I feel it even worse than where I live at home. No, this isn't meant to be some huge post on reasons why Costa Rica is horrible and why the U.S. is better. I simply want to address a few misperceptions about where I am studying.

There are lots of cars, and there is lots of smog here. When trucks and buses drive by I always hold my breath to stop from inhaling the thick black exhaust. When you walk through town in Heredia, there is garbage along the streets-- plastic cups, bags full of trash, etc. There is a lot of of non-point source pollution- oil, soap, and more on the road that runs into the sewer system. Just as much disposable containers that we have in the U.S. I've just seen so much garbage and pollution in public that I wonder where Costa Rica gets this rep of being so "Environmentally Friendly." Yes, there are copious amounts of jungles and beaches and so on, but It just doesn't seem to be living up to being the number one environmentally friendly country in the world as I have heard.

As far as the exotic animals and indigenous people and cheap everything go, you can find them in this country. But you can also find them in any other country. All of the cities here for the most part are just like ours in the U.S. You see people in current styles from the U.S. Music from the states is popular here, there are McDonalds, Burger King, Taco Bell, etc. . . Small businesses everywhere selling every kind of ware. Walmart is here. People don't go out of their way to talk to someone they don't know or make eye contact and smile with a stranger. It rains frequently and is often cold.

I simply want to say that the image people have of Costa Rica isn't necessarily the reality of the matter.

I created "Pura Mirada," meaning Pure View-- a play off of the token saying here, "Pura Vida," which means Pure Life. Is Costa Rica a terrible place? No. I am simply approaching the stereotype from my experiences walking around town everyday, and how my perceptions have changed. I have seen quite a few examples of the above listed ideas, but in the same breath, every place has its flaws.

Notes and Music

I will preface this blog entry by explaining an interesting routine I've been performing.

Before I left the Cincinnati Airport for Costa Rica, my Mom, Grandma, Boyfriend, and one of my best friends was there to wish me off. While there was still time before I had to rush to my departure gate, my boyfriend went off by himself for a good fifteen minutes. I was wondering why he was separating himself when I was going to be gone for five months, and this was our last chance to spend time together for a while. As I was saying my goodbyes and walking towards the omnipotent force of airport security, he handed me an envelope that looked like it had just finished stuffing its face in preparation for a five month hibernation. It was clearly an envelope from my mom's work with the logo and all stamped on the top left corner. He had scratched out the logo and drawn a furby underneath it saying "Me better than CCSA," along with instructions to not open until I was bored on the plane ride. And it said "From PupPup," the affectionate title that I have dubbed him.

Upon opening it in my room at my host family's house later, I found it to be a bundle of folded up notes held snugly together by a slightly faded maroon rubber band. Inscribed on the front of each folded note is the date in which I should open that individual one and the number of task I am working on at that point. One for each week while I am gone, for a total of twenty or twenty-one notes I believe. I would highly recommend this system to couples that are going to be in a similar situation, it has proven to be highly enjoyable, clever, and comforting when I'm feeling lonely.

The tasks so far have ranged from describing new food that I've tasted to making a new friend to haggling at a market. Each has a cute little drawing of a furby saying something clever and a signature of one of the many names I call him. One of the latest tasks I have been assigned is to find some cool new music, whether it be on the internet, on a cd, or on the street.

I was walking to class last friday and noticed out of the corner of my eye and ear that there was a little trio of college-aged musicians playing in front of the cafeteria. At first I was going to simply continue walking, but then all of the sudden remembered my task about finding music and thought it perfect for the assignment. After gaining permission to videotape their performance, I stood and recorded as they played together. It was a trio made up of Victor Julio Rodríguez on Darbuka (a type of hand drum), Randall Perez on Violín, and David Muñoz Morales on Guitarra. It was so neat to not only find a group playing in public, but to actually find the music really appealing and unique, and on top of all of that; it was the first time that had played together. Crazy. Check them out.



and P.S. I want to say thank you very much to Sara Drabik for being a great video-blogging and street-interviewing teacher in Scotland. That experience has provided me with so much more confidence and ability to do what I want while I'm here. Thanks!

A SHOUT OUT TO ALL MY PEOPLE

In the week before I came here, my baby boo and I made a little song together. We both enjoy making music, and both have experience from different manners in doing so. It is interesting to try to combine our experiences into harmonious works that reflect our selves in both emotion and style. I feel as though this song does just that quite well. Expanding upon this idea of harmonious relationships created through shared emotions and experiences; I would say that I feel this way with every person in am close to. If you have friends and family, you contain a set of individual relationships built by sharing of emotions and experiences unique to each and every individual that you know. Some sound nicer at times than others; it is simply the chemistry of those particular shared experiences in the given moment.

Again, I've been soaking in a hot tub of nostalgia, smiling and laughing at pictures and videos of all of the different people that I am close to. I assume this is a normal ritual performed by all study abroad students at some point or another. If I'm wrong, maybe I'm just a baby, but oh well. I love all of these people so much and value their relationships endlessly for various individual reasons.

Being in a new country, (yes, I've been here for a month almost, and yes, there are still many new things), I haven't had the luxury of being able to call a good friend at any time to ask if they want to hang out. The number of friends around me has gone from a number I couldn't count on all of my fingers and toes put together, to barely one hand. This is something I think study abroad advertisements fail to mention. You always see a group of young, smiling faces living to the fullest in some exotic place, seemingly living in this carefree paradise of boundless opportunities and friendships. Maybe I'll be on that poster eventually. I'm still trying to figure it out. I've made more friends slowly, and a guy in one of my classes today responded when I told him I didn't have many friends here that "Es una pregunta de tiempo," or "It's a question of time." I think that's what he said at least. I agree with that. It's all a question of time. Bettering my language and understanding, making friends, enjoying my stay here, returning, living life after all of this. It's all a question of time.

In Five Months.

When I told my friends and family that I was planning on going to study in Costa Rica for a semester, lots of questions came up about what I was going to do while I was here. I told them about wanting to try new food, find new music, see nature, go to the beach, work on a film, and more. After being asked the same question over and over, I thought that just because I am going to another country doesn't mean that everyone else's lives will stop. So, I decided to turn the question around on them and see what they had to say about their goals.

Ropa Americana

When I first came here, one of the first things I wanted to know is where the thrift stores were. I didn't pack much when I came, for this very purpose. When I was eventually taken to a "thrift store" here, I was surprised and a bit disappointed at first glance.
I had expected to see a vast, endless sea of colors and patterns, begging me to dive in and be carried away into some secret, hidden world filled with prismatic gems of forgotten attire. However, this was not the case. The stores here are called "Ropa Americana," which simply means American Clothing. They are basically thrift stores filled with old clothing from the U.S. How it gets here and why they sell it instead of Costa Rican clothing, I have no idea- but are priced fairly well. Generally, you can buy a camiseta, or t-shirt for around 500 or 1000 mil (One or Two Dollars) depending in which section you shop. As they are still thrift stores, there are lots of gems available. I think a misconception on my part was thinking that all Latin American countries contain patterns like you would find in Guatemalan Textiles or in Mexican Serapes. I absolutely love both of those, but it is certainly a stereotype I had crushed as soon as I saw many locals not in poverty, not barefoot, and not dressed in traditional folk-wear. People here dress very much like people in the U.S., and I would say better in most cases. No PINK sweatpants, UGG boots, messy buns, gym shorts, socks and sandals, school t-shirts, etc.... Gracias a Dios. As for Ropa Americana, even though there is clothing from the U.S., I haven't seen much of the above listed trash in these stores. Lots of cool 80's and 90's tourist wear, blazers, sweaters, shorts, jeans, etc. . .but no jewelry :( . oh well.
As for the surprising bit of the ropa americana experience, there is a certain one that I love named SINAÍ or something of that nature. It was the first one I entered.

Picture this: you walk in. there is a security guard in the doorway (which you see everywhere here.) a sudden explosion of sound broadcasting from speakers throughout the two-story thrift store. An announcer screams sales, prices, brands, special deals in the style of a sports announcer, like you are there with everyone for one purpose: to conquer the fuck out of the other team by finding great looks for less. Behind the announcer's voice is an army of house music playing, occasionally sprinkled with Christian songs proclaiming "Hallelujiah! whilst a choir sings in the background. Various male employees carry garbage bags stuffed full, larger than the men carrying them, while they shout out all of the deals to yearning ears. Things seem fairly normal for a second. Okay, this looks like a thrift store from home: aisles of racks of used clothing organized in some manner, yeah. But then you discover that the back half of the store downstairs is cheaper than the front half, and you have to pay in the back half for the cheaper clothing before you can shop more in the front. And then upon coming out from the back half, you are presented with a set of stairs to your left. And are told that there are even cheaper prices upstairs, so hell yeah you go!

Upon arriving at the top of the stairs, the loft above the front half of the store, you come across something you have never seen before. Except maybe in the movie the Labyrinth, which my friend Andrea told me about and I watched with my boyfriend Dakota. If you have seen it, you are walking directly into an actual manifestation of the scene with the old junk lady. There are different "piscinas" or pools of clothing. Hills of clothing constantly being added to by the men carrying gargantuan bags of more clothing. People sitting in the middle of the pools constantly digging through constant additions for cheaper prices. I guess they are cheaper because they aren't on hangers or something?

Anyway, it's crazy, it's awesome, my wrist hurts from typing so much, and here are the clothes I've gotten so far from Ropa Americana.

Fidelity

Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel as though a common question to someone that is in a relationship planning to go abroad for an extended amount of time is fidelity. Sure, I could agree it is a valid question. You'll meet lots of new people, interesting, smart, sexy, funny, cute, and on and on and on. So, there is a wide variety of new faces from a variety of places. What a selection, right? Am I going to lie and say that this isn't true? No. Because it is. It is always true for anyone who goes off to some new place for an extended amount of time. The mind wanders around from fantasy to fantasy, what if, how would, blah blah blah.

Okay, so these are thoughts that people have from day to day on a different level of frequencies. Being someone who has cheated in the past and has been cheated on, I have experienced both sides of physical manifestations of these thoughts. At the time, it seems like such a true thing, like this is how things should be. Like he or she is the perfect person you've been searching for. It's like finding a new outfit at a store and thinking how great you look in it, you're obsessed and constantly think "Damn, I look good." But then sure enough probably less than a month later, you find another new outfit and think that you've got to buy it. That outfit you used to wear doesn't look as good anymore and eventually maybe fades entirely out of your wardrobe. (Am I entirely embracing a stereotype of gay men loving shopping and being promiscuous? Maybe, however I think this is not an issue tied to one group, and if you say it is, then you are a liar. :) ) If you observe the cycle of changing look after look after look, it's exhausting- and even more so, it's very superficial. The same goes with this fidelity situation. You might see someone new and think that they would look really good on you, but more importantly are they actually better than your partner at home? Are they as perfect as you picture them, flawless looks and personality? No. This is the New Outfit Syndrome.

****However, if your partner is like a pair of shoes that is too small, giving you constant blisters whenever you try to run anywhere, would it more comfortable and beneficial to keep them off or to donate them to charity and walk barefoot for a while?

Is this all a bit flawed, in that no one wears the same outfit every single day (if they can afford not to), and by saying that I am accidentally implying that you are with a new person everyday of your life unless you are naked? Yes. But you get the point.

I wanted to write all of this because fidelity has been a question and issue from others and myself. We all have choices with the thoughts that enter our minds and the people that enter our lives, the situations and opportunities presented every second. There is no clear cut "black and white" answer to matters of fidelity, but I believe that if you've got someone great in you life that you need to remind yourself of that when something comes along. I've got a wonderful guy who enriches my life so much and respects me and looks really good on me and I've seen lots of other outfits, and some might look good on me, but I am more than happy with the one I've got now.

A while back, I videotaped myself singing a song from my one of my grandma's old country hits song books. I don't know how to read music, so I just used the lyrics and made up my own music. The lyrics are very relevant to my situation.

I hope all of this doesn't seem too ridiculous.

Thanks for reading.