2004-08-26 | 1:29 p.m.
just in time -- before i lose every last one of my marbles -- i'm going away. far away, on an airplane and across an ocean, which is just barely far enough. the respite will be short, just a week's vacation tailing labor day, and family-oriented, since it's spain i'm flying to, and my grandmother whom i'll be staying with. but that's good. i have this crazy feeling that i'm losing touch day after day in this office, and blocks from the beach and modeling agencies and dance clubs and dizzyingly expensive restaurants and boutiques (my neighborhood), and speaking essentially a foreign language, and getting up at 5:30 am and riding buses, and living with a texan and a displaced kitten . . .
by all this i only mean that a little change is good. swift, abrupt, but also familiar. familiar like my grandmother's apartment and homemade macarrones, like the interminable lengths of the ramblas, the smell of calamari and lemon wafting from harborside restaurants, the cemetery where my uncle joa is buried towering and creeping with vines. i haven't been back to barcelona in six or seven years, an small eternity, and i'm a little scared for some reason, along with terribly excited.
it's going to be mom and i, and that will be lovely too. i haven't spent any extended quality time with her since i moved in with my boyfriend, maybe even since i moved away for college. a lot to revisit. i need it.
i'm too nostalgic for work. i think my super is secretly bothered (le da rabia) that i'm leaving, that i'll be taking a weeklong break from slaving over files and phones, and so she's piled me ceiling-high with work. the piles are waning slowly, lazily, because all i can do is daydream and joke around with my co-slaves.
the boyfriend just got a brilliant job with stellar pay, and we're both sort of starstruck and holding our breaths. but it's good. he worked damn hard for it, and they love him, and it's super cush. i'll admit it, i'm so envious it hurts.
i totally need to clear out the mental cobwebs. hurray for vacation.
