i was ready to put my violent, stale thoughts into this abandoned blog, thinking that my room would be empty. instead, i walked in on my roommate, her unbearable friend, and phil (wright) smoking a joint and laughing at the rented sex and the city that was playing on my computer. i entered with my cold pasta and my intentions, and they exited, looking down on the square that i have become.
i'm not blogging about my time here to complain, or bitch, or whine. i'm blogging to empty my head. i've also been inspired by my more verbose friends who have taken up blogging again, and whom i believe would understand where i'm coming from in my account of my travels. it seems that my companions don't or can't grasp what i say, which is strange to me.
here goes:
i knew i was undoubtably fucked the second i joined the facebook page for this. what i saw were thirty-six people. thirty-four girls and two guys, all from new york, and who all had somebody in the group that they were friends with. this was discouraging, but i figured that some of them would be friendly enough to branch out to people unlike them.
i was wrong.
upon arriving at JFK, i took the path that i took upon arriving at berkeley last summer, and that was befriending every male that looked interesting. it's not about promiscuity, it's the fact that i find guys to be less judgmental and more open to making connections with people, and i wanted to distinguish myself from the catty girls that surrounded me.
the first real friends i remember hanging out with were two guys that were also incoming juniors (one of them lives in huntington beach, and is persian, but does not act like one in any way, shape, or form). anyways, i remember that another guy joined us. his name is phil wright. he and the persian are the only two people i ever connected with, truly, on this trip.
phil wright caught me off-guard for a multitude of reasons. his name of course, was a bit too familiar, but what struck me is that he is the POLAR opposite of phil cooper. naturally, i was drawn to him. i learned over coffee that he was very into drugs. phil wright has tried everything short of heroin (even meth?!) and was incredibly open about this. although his brain seemed a bit fried, i was interested in him because he seemed deeper than his exterior suggested. (perhaps this is my childhood sensationalizing of "freaks and geeks" that has drawn me towards intelligent-type stoners, who knows) as the day progressed, we became the best of friends.
the first two days seemed like an eternity. we must have visited at least three tourist attractions whilst getting used to the city of madrid. the marker, in my opinion, that indicated when everything turned afoul was our visit to parque del retiro.
phil and i took a walk in the park, looking for things to do. i had begun to fancy him at this point, much to my surprise. everything was going alright, until a man called out "YOU SMOKE?" and in his typical fashion, he whipped his head around and followed him into the fauna. curious to see the kind of drugs this man was selling, i followed them. the man was selling hash, which is essentially concentrated thc, the working chemical in weed. i paid for the "egg" which i now regret. i paid for the deterioration of my friendship with phil.
for the first week of the trip, i fully and wholeheartedly participated in the boozing and smoking that phil and his friends enjoyed. i thought he would like me more as a person, and it never materialized. the only form of affection i ever received was in the form of hand holding at the "discoteca" (the camp's idea of "culture" that was only really a roxbury dance brought back from the dead). phil's a mean drunk, and treats me like crap every time he partakes. so our friendship is a shell of its former self, and so it goes.
_
i no longer smoke or drink with phil, dylan, liz and jake, needless to say. they were my original friend group, and for the wrong reasons. as i realized this, i moved on to other people.
the entire point of this blog is to address the fact that i am out of touch with most people here. those that i am in touch with are tiresome and think the same of me. i've tried friendliness, i've tried flattery, and i've tried massages. i've realized that these people are altogether different creatures: they dress with more passion and precision and look down on my laid-back, sloppy california style, they laugh at things i don't find funny and don't chuckle when i make a comment, they complain at every opportunity, and are touchy beyond belief. i can't relate to them, nor can i hold a conversation with them.
they're shallow. very, very shallow.
i miss my hometown, where people appreciate me, or at least pretend to.
i've taken an honest look at myself to figure out where i've gone wrong. up until a few nights ago, i'd taken all the right steps. i made some acquaintances, had some good times, and was overall very genial and pleasant. i did, however, have one too many shots one night. i completely blacked out, and i still don't know what i said exactly to a given amount of people, but the persian acts strange around me now, and i DO know that i was apparently convinced i was jesus and attempted to rid people of their sins. although this is indeed hilarious, i insulted some people, and i spent a good part of yesterday apologizing.
i'm not the only person to fuck up on this trip. a girl vomited of alcohol during the final world cup game. however, there was a double standard, and she was given kindess while i distinctly remember being verbally abused by a redhead. it's fine though. and so it goes.
the only one that understands the way i think is my roommate. she's probably the most extroverted person i've ever met. i could not be more wild than her if i joined the circus.
she's there, right now, being intense as ever. she has a pierced nipple. she talks about sex as if she were discussing the weather. but yet, i admire her. i've never spoken to a human being like her, ever, and she inspires me to be a little more confident.
i can't fucking stand the way she gives in to people that are the most boring here. i can't stand anybody here. i took a nap between now and the rest of this post, so i'm a little tired. forgive me, or don't.
i'm not miserable. i appreciate all that spain has to offer, and i'd rather be alone, taking in the sights and sounds without having to deal with a program that treats its children like sheep in need of corralling. but i'm miserable, and at times i feel like i'm the only person who has anything important to say. in some ways, my personality has changed shape entirely. i've become not only more in touch with my thoughts, but nearly everything that's important to me or in the future. i now understand connor safran. completely. i'd like to talk more to him.
tonight, we're being dragged to see "pereza", which is essentially a spanish version of the jonas brothers. will i enjoy it? will i enjoy it in my grand count of concerts i've seen? this all remains to be seen.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNZ3GKPEXTc
it's funny. i never used to list in my head all the people that i missed and wanted to talk to before, and now my list is building and building. i want to see and talk to people i know, people i don't really know, and people i'd like to know. i want them all here with me, and not this hellhole i've dug myself into.
i was an outcast before my drinking incident, and although it exacerbated the problem, i'm not relying on it to give me answers.
i have a week and a day left, and in this time i will certainly take in all that valencia, and soon barcelona will have to offer. albeit alone, very, very alone.
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