It's amazing what a bad interview can do FOR you

     It's amazing what a bad interview can do for you. Yes you heard me right... FOR you. I've been in Spain for a couple of months now, and there are countless things I like about it. I even adore my boyfriend's family- weird right?! And the thing I love most here is my boyfriend. (All right, all right....settle down, it may be cheesy but it's true.) So, keep reading... or don't (I know there are some disturbing yet inexplicably entertaining blogs about bellybutton fluff... but I digress...)

    Communication. There are a surprising number of ways communication (or lack there of) can get in your way. Coming to Spain without much Spanish (I'm being kind to myself here), did not help either. I can see you smirking and shaking your heads in dismay... well, I can't blame you. The unexpected part, was how much I managed to get in my own way.

     We searched and searched, squandering away our time. I was getting increasingly stressed out. Through my head like a ferris wheel on speed my thoughts spun, 'will we have enough money? will we be able to work in the same place? will skype ever work? will the new meds for my epilepsy work?' All these and more. Really though, my biggest problem was not being able to communicate. My Spanish was improving... but at a snails pace.

     The reality of the situation was (and still is) the economy is absolutely horrendous. I didn't take breaks from searching to do anything fun, free but fun. Now my boyfriend is up north working for two months and I'm still searching. Real life. It is what it is.

      There is something I hadn't noticed yet. Whilst my inner strength remained in tact... my presence was slowly fading. The confidence people usually see in me was waning. Much worse, was my natural goofy, playful, and engaging side was also fading day by day. Generally I am the epitome of expression... not only my face but my whole body expresses whatever it is I'm talking about or thinking about. I am just an extremely animated person... who lacks control of the animation at times...heh. So I should have noticed that that expressive side of me was not rushing to my aide when I couldn't express my self in Spanish. 

      Just before my boyfriend left, he wanted to make sure I would take time for myself. Make sure I was happy, not too stressed out. I agreed with him, we had both wasted too much time already. I talked to my dad a couple days later and he said I should take time for myself. He said he knew from experience that the stress could eat you alive if you didn't give yourself some time (now I have a whole new view of The Blob).  I agreed, with dad. Wholeheartedly. I still worried. I still looked at the computer too much. And I definitely wasn't taking enough time for myself. Still fading.

    The interview came. I completely bombed it. I misunderstood what they were looking for. I presented myself professionally and calmly (and unfortunately a bit stiffly as well). At the very end of the interview, in just one question- I realized.... how very wrong I had been. I had presented myself in almost the opposite way to the person they were looking for.

    Needless to say, I was a bit bummed on the way home. As I got off the train however, I walked right smack into the middle of the first night celebration of The Festival Of The Pirates! I just enjoyed the rest of the night, watching, laughing, and listening to music.

    The next day is when it truly hit. If I had been myself. Completely myself. They would probably hired me right away. I was who they were looking for, not the faded scared, worried me.

    And wouldn't you know it...later that day I ran into my boyfriend's mother, sister, and aunt. This time I talked to them..... I not only surprised them and myself with my Spanish, but I was more animated than I have been in a while. That might have been the first time they have ever seen me that lively.

    So again, I say.... it's amazing what a bad interview can do FOR you!!!!!

kimbersfrog

Gravity- a warning sign that I couldn't read....

GRAVITY...... (This might be the last epilepsy post for a little while.... )

   

         I was in my senior year of high school. Like most kids that age I was stubborn, opinionated, and all but sprinting to get out of the town I grew up in to experience somewhere, anywhere new. However, I was not like everyone else. I am not referring

to my innate ability to alienate myself from anything resembling a clique- I was good at being myself whatever the consequences, it's a wonder anyone stuck by me at

all. What no one knew however, was I was beginning to have these "things" happen to

me. Now at the time, I had never had a grand mal, I knew absolutely nothing about epilepsy, and I sure as heck didn't know I would soon be diagnosed with it. What I knew, was my uncle was a schizophrenic. Schizophrenia could be genetic, and although 17 would

be early onset of the disease there was nothing saying that I couldn't be going crazy at 17. So when I started having these "things" I started quietly thinking I might, just might, be going insane. Every so often I would blurt out some sort of loud noise- which I had absolutely no control over but was fully aware of. Then there were the times I actually jerked a limb uncontrollably. Imagine that, you can see it, feel it, but you can't stop it. You can't even recreate it, not really. Then came the first full petite mal... however, I had no idea

what it was, all I knew was I blurted out something unintelligible, then fell and raised as if it were on purpose- all in front of the bathroom mirror (talk about a double whammy) and had no way to stop it. It only takes a second or two for everything to happen but the

fear remains. I sat there afterwards, purposely, reactively cursing a few times (I was 17)... thinking, 'this is it... I'm going crazy. How long do I have before I loose the real world completely.'  I should mention, that for about a year I had been having what I called 'gravity' fairly regularly. I would say to my mom, "I can't go to school I have gravity." Her response was, "I can't tell the school you can't go to school because you feel gravity." Pretty much there was this unspoken, 'What the heck is she talking about....', but to put it mildly I was a difficult teen. So I think it was passed off as me trying to get out of going to school. In a way I was. I loved school and being with my friends, but I was really freaked out by the fact that it felt as if there was an extra gravitational pull on my body to the ground... just I felt... well gravity. Like unseen tethers were uniformly pulling every molecule of my body at the same time with the same force towards the earth with stronger force than usual. If you don't know what's going on- it sounds not only ridiculous but a bit nuts... so I stopped

talking about gravity and didn't tell anyone about the other "things" that were happening. Until February. I had my first seizure. That was the beginning of everything starting to make sense. At least for a time I thought - I know what the problem is, I'll take my meds and I'll not have another seizure again- just like the doctors said. At least I wasn't going to loose the real world to a world that was only in my head.

kimbersfrog

The Festival of the Pirates!!!!!!

     

So here I am in Spain. I moved here to be with the love of my life.... yeah, if you knew the whole story, you would either say,  'awwwwwwwwwww, that is the most romantic thing I've ever heard.'   OR,  'you're bleepin' crazy.' We're in love so we're doing this thing, but THAT is not what this story is about.... maybe some other time. 

Now, unfortunately given the horrible economic times my boyfriend had to keep his job up north for the summer. The ONLY good part of that is I might just learn Spanish faster. Again, I've gone off topic....I apologize.

The town I live in is just north of Barcelona, it's called Premiá de Mar. It's a sweet town, quiet and we have a small apartment that we can call home. I had been told that there was a festival about pirates in July. Okay, cool, can't wait. It sounded neat, people dressing up, live music on the beach, some fireworks.... nice. Last night, I heard them sound checking on the stage that must have gone up in a nano-second.... because it definitely was NOT there in the morning.

Well, today... I kind of forgot really, I was nervous about stuff I had to do, just in my own head really. Trying to think in Spanish...quite impressively (heh, well not really but I keep trying to convince myself that I was thinking in perfect Castillan). Finally, I was almost out the door, on my way to an appointment, when I here my boyfriend's nieces at the door asking if they could have some water. We did some awkward communicating and joking... that's a bonus... joking didn't happen in the beginning because of my nervousness with the language barrier. And then it hit me... all the people outside... the pirates!!!! 

In Premiá, in July every year there is a celebration. It roughly translates to The festival of the Pirates. Some people dress as pirates some don't. (that part I was told about) So again I thought, cool, on my way back the first night (for it's about a week or so long) of the festival I'll try to find the family and enjoy some of this festival.......well
There was something they neglected to mention. No, there was something EVERYONE I talked to forgot to mention. Apparently, about 50% of the people adults teens and children, have GIANT water guns... and because there are working water fountains every block or so... those guns are constantly full!!!!!
Don't mistake me.... this is something I am all for.... but there I am coming off the train completely unaware... and BAMMMMMMM!!!!!!! completely soaked.....I must say... it was... well... BLEEPPIN' funny!
I wish however I had been warned, I would've gone and gotten a water gun myself... and maybe brought a change of clothes and a better bag.
I wish celebrations were like this all the time... people happy, calm, and goofy.
I am not trying to take away from the actual meaning behind the celebration, mind you. I am a foreigner, so obviously the first thing I take in is what I see and feel, which is the joy, warmth, community, solidarity, and just people enjoying having fun!

That is it for tonight....
Kimbersfrog
If you want to find out more about the history of the festival: www.premiapirata.org or www.lencert.es.

An Invisible Disease....

AN INVISIBLE DISEASE (for all the other epileptics out there...)

   epilepsy is one of the many diseases in this world that you
don't see unless it's happening that very moment. you might see the
evidence afterwards, but like a chameleon these remnants could be
clues to a beating, a fall, or a car accident, there are endless
possibilities. this is why i call epilepsy an invisible disease. and while there
are advantages, all of the advantages come with a nasty flip side,
which i guess you could say of most anything. but it feels like a
petite mal- one moment you're walking along and quicker than you can
snap you're fingers, you've gone down to the floor and back up again.
and while harnessing that could make someone a phenomenal dancer the
reality is it produces huge amounts of anxiety, it's scary, and
although it's generally a physically impossible feat your body has
just pulled off, you're generally sore somewhere, and have probably
freaked at least a couple of on-lookers out. the dichotomies are
always there. one of the best things is you don't get that look you do after
a grand mal. every time someone looks at you, you know the look of, oh,
poor girl (boy, etc.)...all the various shades of pity, sometimes with disdain,
embarrassment,fear, disgust, anger, or some mix there of. that means
however, it becomes so much more powerful when someone you love has
just seen you have a seizure, and now you get one of these looks. i
know they can't help it, but... well, i can only speak for myself
here, but it can only make me feel more isolated than i already feel
after having a seizure. as anyone who has them knows (or even anyone
who has something long term that people closest to them can't fix or
completely relate to) there's only so much you, or they can say about
it. for me, after i've had a seizure, and actually confirmed that yes i
have had a seizure, although i need to talk about it, i need to cry,
there is nothing to say. there is no one to say it to. i have tried-
but i can't even think of anything to say. and no one really knows
what to say to me- they just keep looking at me that way. which is far
worse than not talking to anyone. so i lay alone, sleep off the
seizure lag, and thank the herky jerky gods for not killing me or
putting me in a wheel chair.

The oddities that make life normal.....

    Finally, here I sit... doing what I've been talking to my friend Scott from high school about for a long time now.  I have so many things to write about I'm not sure where to begin, however now that I'm here I promise not to bore with all of them at once..... I plan to torture you slowly. In all fairness though, you are willing participants, I don't know where you are, I can't make you read this.... but you are... and all I can say... is thanks for making my efforts worth it. This first effort is really just to say, most of these blogs will be different from each other... (that is not to say I won't repeat myself... I probably will). And they will probably show all different moods.... I invite you to comment, ignore me, laugh or spit at your computer in disgust if you like...it's really up to you.

    The title most importantly, is a reference to something I believe with all my heart (not to get all mushy on you)... I truly believe, that we are all... each and every one of us on this planet- are different, odd, or strange in comparison to each other. BUT.... that is exactly what makes us ALL normal. We share the oddness.   So this was my introduction to the blogworld... next time I'll try to up the game.....                                                             
kimbersfrog