Random Sabbath thoughts

As I prepare for the grand opening of this marvelous blog, I realized I did not feel inspired to write about anything today, so I will just share a bunch of non-related thoughts about nothing.

I have come to realize that if I stop eating, I suddenly have more money. Not only that, but if I stop sleeping, I have just enough time to do everything that needs to be done (barely). So, if you're ever in need of one of those, you know what to do.

I have decided it is virtually impossible to understand boys. It's not like they're from Mars. If we're from Venus, they're in a whole different galaxy. Eventually, though, one of us girls gets lucky enough to run into an experimented space traveler, who has gotten acquainted with our ways, and knows how to treat us, without losing their identity in the process.

When kidnapping a toy gun, make sure you never disclose your identity, and that you demand an adequate ransom (Fear of legal consequences prevents me from revealing more, but I can share more private details if you're interested; leave a comment).

To be continued...

Meet Whitey

I seriously hate to drive. My latest story should demonstrate how bad I do.

I was glad that I had student status here, and a valid excuse not to have a car. After all, I do not have here the social status I had back home. Then again, I also don't have a job.

I have strayed from the topic, but here is when I get back on. I hated driving the bus. This was nothing like Denver. The people riding the bus are mostly (how to say it nicely?)... sketchy. I got tired of being hit on by men with golden teeth, excessive facial hair or with the potential to be my third-generation ancestor. So I decided to stop eating and save enough money to buy a car. Any piece of junk would do, as long as it kept me away from bus stops.

And so I did. I bought a car 2 months ago. But when did I actually drive it for the first time? You'd say "Duh! 2 months ago, obviously!". I say no, keep guessing. "1 month?", you say. Nope, go on. "2 weeks?" as you raise your eyebrows. And I finally answer, Nope. I just drove it for the first time 4 days ago, after I had run out of every conceivable excuse I could come up with. I will not elaborate; they were valid excuses, but none that would ordinarily make my determination falter.

Don't get me wrong, I love the freedom to move around that an automobile provides. However, why can't it drive itself? I wonder if Kit from "Knight Rider" would consider being my car if I promised to give him a more manly name. In the meantime, I just contemplate the possibility of ever having enough money to have a cute car, and an even cuter driver to take me wherever I want to go.

My top 10 dirty secrets

Even I am not that shameless, so there are still some secrets I won't write about yet. But these are the ones I mustered the courage to share.
1. Although a faithful LDS and a Utah lover, I hate the Jazz, and love the Denver Nuggets.
2. There was a time when I swore I would never even consider living in the US.
3. I watched Sex and The City, both the series and the movie. I have now repented.
4. I want to have children, but not sure I want to go through the physical strains of pregnancy. Does anyone know about any breakthroughs in “baby technology”?
5. I memorized most of the episodes of “Saved by the Bell” when I was a teenager. I’m pretty sure a cheap collection of most of those episodes sits in the back of my bookshelf back home.
6. I am really sensitive about my hair, and I pray every day that nothing bad will ever happen to it. My self-esteem sinks every time I have a bad hair day, which lately seems to be happening more and more frequently.
7. Sometimes I feel stupid, because I have a very bad memory.
8. I cry more than I want to admit it. Luckily, I am quite unable of shedding tears, so unless you notice my watery eyes, you would never know I’m crying.
9. Every week, while watching The Biggest Loser, I vow to be more physically active and to push myself like those obese guys on TV. I forget about it the next day.
10. I’ve been called preppy many, many times ... and I love it.

At this point, I realize I feel so relieved to finally have all these secrets out in the open, that I want to go on.
11. I hate driving. If I had the money, I’d have a driver.
12. I never wanted to become an environmentalist, I kinda stumbled upon it. I always wanted to be an interpreter, and that’s why I learned 4 languages.
13. I am so proud and (allegedly) so self-reliant that I hate asking for favors. E.g. I’ve been known for walking amazingly long distances, just because I wouldn’t ask for a ride.
14. I am a TV-aholic. I have watched TV for hours and hours on end (ah, the days!). However, if I’m reading a book during commercials, I don’t feel like I’m wasting my time.

To read or not to read

Reading is one of my passions. Great hobby, although a bit expensive, particularly for my parents when I was a kid. Bookstores in my home country are not...let’s say...en vogue. All they have are books from Paulo Coelho, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Isabel Allende, Spanish translations of self-help books and textbooks. Not being a big fan of either of those books, and having read all the books in my parents’ bookshelf - including an encyclopedia on pregnancy and motherhood, another note to my future husband ;) - my dad became a member of Club de Lectores, a Spaniard club, who would send him monthly catalogs of books. I cherished the days when my dad would bring me the catalog, and asked me to choose which books I wanted him to order. I had to restrain myself from not ordering the whole thing.

I remember once, Dad came home for lunch carrying 2 books, fresh from Spain. I vividly remember the titles: “The Dead Poets’ Club”, and “Dying Young”. He was beaming as he handed them to me, and said “Enjoy”. His first premature wrinkle appeared that night when, as he came back home from work, I said: “I’m done with those 2 books you brought earlier. Didn’t you get any more?” That was probably the moment he dismissed any dreams of wealth he might have ever had. 

Reading turned me into a freak in my home country. Apparently, the only books people read there are textbooks. Hence, people would always ask what class I was studying for whenever they saw me reading a book. I felt much better, though, while living in Denver, and everyone would be reading a book while riding the bus or the train. I felt like I was finally among my own. However, living in Vegas made me realize I may be more alone than I thought. My first month here I had to ride the bus more than I wished to. A lot of latinos also ride the bus. That’s when I realized the non-reading habit is a latin epidemic. One man asked me while on a bus stop: “Is that the Bible you’re reading?” Seriously?! Is that the only book you have ever heard of? What has the world come to?!