I was supposed to go to Pamplona on Friday, but I missed the train. But, I did get a chance to do my reading, which was very nice. Friday night I decided to hit the Sol area in Madrid. I was looking for a club, but didn't find one. I know they were there, but I just didn't see one. Instead, I ended up walking around for an hour. Then I got a piece of pizza and went home.

I also used Friday night to get better acquainted with the metro. I was afraid of it before--not so now! I took this picture:

 
My initial thought was, "Be advised: Beyoncé exiting the train." But, I think it's supposed to warn you about the gap between the train and the platform. Still, after that, "Single Ladies" was stuck in my head the rest of the evening.

Yesterday I did more homework and found a nice place to do laundry. I got done about 2:00, which is about Spanish lunch time, so I stopped by the grocery store and got gazpacho and stuff to make a little sandwich, as well as some juice boxes. I don't have any refrigeration in the dorm where I'm staying, so I had to be a little strategic about how I purchased things.

Today, several of us went to eat at a Spanish homestyle type place. I was even so adventurous to try the paella, which was bold for me since I generally and genuinely dislike seafood. But, the rice didn't taste fishy and had a good saffron flavor, so I ate all that and then I covered the "mariscos" in lemon juice and swallowed them without chewing. The main dish was entrecot and potatoes, and I got a flan for desert. Everything was only about 9 euros--not bad for a three-course meal and shots! Then, siesta time! (BTW, I love the siesta system--I know it doesn't really make sense with most people's schedules now, but when working from home and having kids who go to school nearby become more widespread, I think society would do well to implement it.)

All in all, it was a good cap to the end of the first week here. I wish I had travelled some, but not doing so gave me a chance to meet other people who had stayed. Next weekend, however, there will be travel--I'm thinking Paris to watch fireworks off the Eiffel Tower. But, I don't want to go alone, so that might not work out. On verra.

Right now, I'm thinking about going to the Parque Retiro to do some reading. As I mentioned in my last blog, I think the park is very cool. I could spend two days just exploring the corners of the park...alas, I shall not for there are many other things to do in this city.

How did you spend your weekend?

Although, interestingly, I've spoken more French in Madrid in 3 hours than I did the entire time I was in Geneva (2.5 days).

But, that's not the point. The point is that I tried to order a drink and some croquetas at a bar yesterday. The waiter seemed to have no idea what I was saying. The thing is, I KNOW I can speak Spanish. But everytime I said something, he looked at me strangely. I got a "Como?" or a "Mande?" I didn't get it, the only thing I can figure is that I was speaking too quietly. I do that at times.

BTW, it's not me just thinking I can speak Spanish and that I really can't because no one else I've talked to has seemed to have any difficulty in understanding me...even the chick from Barcelona.

Apart from that, yesterday was pretty cool. After class we took a bike tour of the city. There's so much to see in Madrid! Here are some of the photos I took.

One view of the palacio real...it's way bigger than Buckingham, but the Spanish Royal Family doesn't actually live in Madrid, they live outside in Zarzuela, I think.

A fancy cathedral. Snazzy, no?

Catedral de San Geronimo. Yes...the Geronimo you scream about when you do something adventurous.

I think this is where the city government of Madrid is...I'm not sure now, though.

And for all the hardcore word nerds, like me, out there, this is where the Academia Real de Lenguaje Espanol meets. There was a real threat the various regions of Spain would each develop its own dialect, fortunately there is at least one version of Spanish that is now spoken throughout the country. A common language solves so many problems.

Although I didn't take any pictures, my favorite was riding through Retiro park. For whatever reason, I'm turning into a HUGE fan of large, European parks. I felt the same way about La Grange in Geneva. They're so cool!

Anyway, it's lunch and siesta time. Os hablare' mas tarde.

(Get it? I used the "vosotros" direct object because I'm in Spain!)

I may have had a panic attack today, but I'm not sure. The only sure symptom I experienced was a racing heart beat. Here's how it went down:

I got settled into the room where I'll be staying for the next month while I'm on this study-abroad program. I was trying to fix a problem my laptop was having with YouTube. It was unsuccessful venture. I decided at that point that I needed cash in case I wanted to live it up while the Spain-Italy game was going on tonight (the city will go crazy for sure, regardless of the outcome). I located ATMs on the InTaRWebZ and found there were a couple pretty close by. There were three nearby so I started walking toward them.

On the way, I recognized some people in a larger group who are also participants in the program. They were sitting down on the sidewalk patio for lunch it appeared...I just mosied on by without making eye contact.

When I got to the ATM, I selected "English" and tried to proceed normally. It wanted a reference number...I didn't know what that meant, so I tried to cancel the transaction. The transaction cancelled. I waited. And waited. And my card never came out. I tried to start another transaction. It didn't ask me for my card...I tried selecting "Spanish" to see if there was a typo in the Spanish-English instructions. I got the same thing and cancelled again. Still no card. STILL NO CARD!

Of course, it's a Sunday and the bank where the ATM was located wasn't open. Fortunately, a girl who looked about my age came up seemingly to also use the ATM. I told her that the machine ate my card. She knew who to call apparently. That's when I found that I'd probably just have to try to go back tomorrow to ask whoever is inside that building if they can get the card out. So, I'm nervous and without Euros.

Disgruntled and confused, I walked back to my room--the LONG way so as to avoid contact with the sidewalk-patio sitters. Really, who could have endured that much awkward TWICE! I got back. i tried to work on my computer some more--to no avail. I felt exhausted and tried to take a nap. That's when I think I started to freak out a little bit.

Summary of potentially panic-inducing factors:
1. I lost my ATM/debit card in a foreign country and have no recourse until tomorrow/I could have been the victim of a plot to thieve my identity--they do that in Madrid...
2. I was awkward about handling the walk-by situation and may have ruined my chance to make contact with those people...
3. I couldn't fix my computer...
4. I was tired and couldn't fall asleep

I tried to stop my heart from racing but couldn't...really...It finally slowed down after I held my breath. UGH! It turns out that the turbulent flight I had from Geneva here was likely an omen of the way this month will go...stink. But, I guess this is the type of carelessness that happens when I let myself get excited. I guess I'll have to add "excitement" to the list of emotions not have again...double stink.

So, tomorrow I'll have to try to reclaim the card. If I can't, I'll have to cancel it. BUT! Tomorrow will start much earlier here than at home, which leaves plenty of opportunity for mischief if it's actually been taken and not merely eaten if I do need to cancel the card.

Although,jet lag has been a killer (I can only sleep from 11:00 pm to 3:00 am…and then8:00 am to noon), Geneva is always a pleasant city. This trip has been moreabout visiting family than seeing the city—which I did more last summer.

Yesterday,I sat outside on the balcony to check the mails and do some InterWebz cruising.The view was pretty nice.

Dans cette photo, on peut voir le zénithdu « jeddo » a l’arrière-plain.

Beforethen, I spent the day getting lost on the 9 bus and walking back to thedowntown area. I called it an adventure so I didn’t feel like a moron. Itturned out my sister worked not far from there (Geneva’s not so large), so wemet for gelato. It was a good choice.

Fortunately,the trip here was uneventful. I had a “situation” at DFW where I had over-packedmy suitcase and I needed to rearrange my affairs so I met the weightrequirements. The ticket agent was extremely understanding and patient, whichwas a pleasant surprise. Then, I got lost in the maze of “passport control” andSchiphol. I wasn’t actually lost, but I didn’t really understand what washappening.

Comparedto that, the Geneva airport was a breeze. Basically if you have nothing todeclare, you pick up your luggage and go. No one even looked through my bags atcustoms. I went from baggage claim to train station to bus terminal. I shouldhave just gone from the baggage claim to the bus terminal, but, again, I gotlost.

Itseems getting lost is a resounding theme. Really, though, getting lost is theonly way I learn where things are. And I haven’t really had a chance to getlost everywhere in the city. Consequently, “my” Geneva is relatively small, butfilled with pleasant memories. In it, there are a few restaurants and épiceries,museums and galleries, and lots of lake smells. But, my Geneva is mostly theplace where I can practice speaking French and see family. This was particularlynotable because I spent a lot of time with the “new” baby.

Althoughthe trip was a quick one, I’m looking forward to seeing more of the city when Igo back in a few weeks for a longer visit. I have nanny/uncle duty while theregular nanny is on an already-scheduled vacation. I expect to have a grand ol’time!

How do you know whether your shoe purchase was a good one? After you've been to the shoe store, how do you know that your adventure was successful? How do you differentiate a good shoe purchase from a bad one?

This afternoon raised many questions that I couldn't answer. The result: a miniature anxiety attack in the middle of Famous Footwear. At one point, I told myself: "Screw it! Just go barefoot the rest of your life..." I realize now that that's not really an option. So...instead, I'm trying to develop a framework to evaluate whether a particular pair of shoes is really a good buy.

Typically, an optimal point is somewhere between two extremes. "Optimal shoetility," in my view, lies between: (1) buying shoes that you really, really like (individually, regardless of whether you can wear them with anything else) and (2) shoes that you can wear with your ENTIRE wardrobe. Again, these are extremes and do not need to exist in reality. In reality, though, you'll like a pair of shoes AND you can wear them with SOME of your clothes.

This, though, raises a question: with how many clothes should I be able to wear a pair of shoes? Typical Trey: more questions than answers.

And "wardrobe" is just one variable. One must also consider the implications of style, comfort, message of brand, and perhaps most importantly--cost. It's understandable why I had a breakdown in the shoe store. I found two pairs of shoes on clearance. I was going to buy both and maybe return one later. THEN I walked by another pair that I liked more (and that cost more, and I liked them in amount = price differential). It had a similar function to one of the bargain pairs...the toe was a little rounder, the lines were a little classier. But the bargain pair seemed a little more "business" and versatile. I couldn't buy both pairs and I couldn't decide between them. I couldn't find a scenario where one pair had a decisive edge. Deadlock. I hated it.

After that happened, I saw a pair of shoes by Steve Madden that was called "The P-Trey." The shoe literally had my name on it! Dammit Steve Madden...Life was complicated enough...why'd you have to go and confound things further? The "Trey" shoes were also economically priced...My thought processes were clunking along, barely, and that was a wrench in the clog cogs. (Get it? "Clogs" are are kind of shoe that rhymes with "cog.")

Consequently, I returned all the shoes I had removed from shelves and left without buying anything. Furthermore, I returned the pair of shoes I had bought just a few hours before. At that point, I decided that I needed a good theory for shoe buying. I don't know how to resolve conflicts of shoes...and my clogitations (get it again?) seem just to get in the way.

So...people of the Xangasphere...How do you approach shoe acquisition? I'm in desperate need of guidance...I leave for Europe in four days and I need (I think) two pairs. AAAAAHHH!

This is a common tag line I put on the end of my jokes. I come from a long line of peeps who make obscure, arcane references, which, when understand, constitute a witticism. However, the giggle that follows such witticisms are--for the obfuscated origins--are infrequent because of inaccessibility of the humor. It's for this reason that I inquire, "get it?" The effect is to call extra attention to the joke--good or bad. When the joke is bad, sometimes the moment takes on a comical air because the situation devolves into something absurd. When the joke is good, a little linger sometimes helps everyone out.

However, not everyone appreciates this technique...namely, my younger brother. Here's how it went down last night. My brother and mother were discussing possible roommates that my brother was considering when he goes back to school in the fall. He mentioned that one guy he knows had pledged to a fraternity and would likely move in with other "brothers." At that point, I interjected, "I never really understood the fraternity system...it's all Greek to me. (a beat) Get it? because fraternities and sororities use Greek letters?"

For some reason, the tagline that follows my jokes irritates him. There's no revelry in the moment. No good-natured groan at a weak pun. He doesn't get getting it. Rather, all I "get" from him is a wholottanada...except maybe some attitude and indignation. He proceeded with a harangue about how such humor was intellectually empty and inappropriate for someone of my intelligence (my words, not his). He glared at me...I knew he was trying to make my face melt.

I still think he's losing it for not thinking it's funny. But, I can't really blame him. I know there's something wired into little brothers that is especially sensitive to things that older brothers do. When some older-brother conduct activates that sensibility, the irritation that follows is inexplicable and senseless. For me, it infuriates me when my older brother asks me what I'm making. There's something about the way that he peers over my shoulder while I'm slicing squash, a tomato, or what have you and asks, "Whatchya makin'?" Everything in me wants to yell "FOOD YOU MOTARD!" I can usually restrain myself. Restraint is important when you have a knife and you're irritable. But, back to the point: it doesn't make sense. It's one of those sore points between siblings that have little in the way of rational support.

All that to say, it's funny even if you don't get it. The humor lies in the form of the joke, not the substance. It's a little, unanticipated (dare I say "ironic" when the joke is patently obvious?) rhetorical device that draws attention back to the joke for one moment more. The stuff of the joke is the quirky form it takes when the pun's presence is clearly indicated. I won't apologize if the form of the joke is sub-par...or even worse, sub"stance."

...get it?

: )

...but I've done something awkward.

Because of voir dire/jury selection, we didn't get to go to the happy hour even that some local attorneys had scheduled. I felt bad. I've never stood anyone up before. But that wasn't the awkward part.

The awkward part was calling some random attorney I didn't know and leaving a message telling him that I wouldn't be able to make the happy hour. : ( Frankly, I'm not even sure that it was the right attorney. All the information I had about drinks, contacts, etc. was second hand...it was unfortunate. I was freaking out because I needed to be two places at once: at the bar AND at jury selection.

The cool part is that, of all three interns, I was the only one ballsy enough to actually do something proactive and inform the event-planning attorneys that we would be late/absent. Ballsy is not the role I usually play. Maybe they finally dropped. That would be cool.

After voir dire, the other interns and I trekked across the West End to the pub just to see if things were still hiz-happening. Alas, the attorneys were gone--reasonably so because it had been more than an hour and a half since the party was supposed to go down. It was not really going to be a party...not, at least, until I got behind a couple mojitos.

I've discovered that life is a lot easier if I just embrace the awkward. I've tried to be cool, but I just can't pull it off. So, I'm awkward, but I get stuff done. I guess it's not the best combination of attributes, but it's not a completely terrible one either.

Jury selection happened today in the probate court. From the Old French, "truth" and "to speak," "voir dire" is an exciting time! Watching people and giving them a forum for opinion always has an interest result. Here is a list of my favorite quotes from today:

"Frankly, I don't care what happens to these people. At the end of the day, both parties walk away rich. I have no interest in hearing these people squabbling over money."

"UUUGGH!"

"I no speak English."

"I've already paid for a vacation. Being here watching these people while I miss my vacation will PISS me off."

"I've been selected for teacher training that will impact my income for the next year. I will literally cry if I get called for jury duty."

"I make pipe organs."

"English is a second language for me."

Each of the lawyers had distinct and discernible jury-selecting strategies. It was all very instructive. During one of the breaks, one of the plaintiff's lawyers had a chance to talk to us interns. He said that jury selections are perhaps the most critical thing they do, but the least capable of control. It seemed true today. Both parties are angling for a jury that is biased in their favor; they'll settle for fair jury. It's hard to tell what they got.

I think the case is decided before the evidence is heard. That is, the fate of the case is determined before the matter is tried. But neither party knows what the result will be. As that information becomes known during the course of the trial, there is a better alignment of expectations and a greater chance for settlement. But, I'd rather there be no settlement a'cause that'll give me a better chance to observe what a trial is like.

All in all, today was a good day in the Dallas County Probate courts...for me at least. Not so much for the defendants.

There's something relaxing or comforting about simply hearing another human breathe.

There's a rhythm to breath. It's so natural that we forget we're doing it. But when we focus on it, that simple act is calming. It brings us together and sets us collectively apart.

While people will often take things (food, clothes, toys, mates, etc.) for themselves to the exclusion of others, air is different. It's not practically excludable and only temporarily rival. Air is weird because it flows: I take it in and breathe it out, and then another person can take in the exact same air and do the same thing. The same matter that was in me could also be in you. It's kind of gross, but in that way, breath unites all breathing things--and not just because it's a feature of living necessities. Rather, the unity lies in the fact that we take in, breathe out, and generally share a same essence.

And of course, this blog wouldn't be complete without the etymological side note: a long time ago and for a long time, (circa Proto-Indo European), "breath" and "smell" (nouns) were the same word as were their verbs. I typically prefer not to associate smells with breath, but I've certainly had the smelly-breath experience. I'm glad that hygeine has improved to the point that respiration can be phonetically distinct from odors.

The last several times I've been in a library, things have been quiet enough that I can hear the other people around me just breathing. It's a great reminder that, while I'm intensely focused on what I'm doing, there is life around me. Other people...also working. There's a connection...even if silent and uncommunicated...even unacknowledged.

Quand j’étais petit, je ne voulais pas être pompier ou policier. I didn’t idolize the professions that depend on strength and bravery. I had a tremendous respect and appreciation for them, mais je savais que cette catégorie d’emploi n’était pas pour moi. Instead, I longed to be un artiste.

Je voulais dessiner des œuvres  qui adornaient les murs de grands halls des musées. The beauty of my work would make people contemplate what was happening around them de nouveau.

Quelques fois je mentionne ici sur Xanga que j’aime l’esthétique. For me, beauty doesn’t just rest in the eye of the beholder ; avant d’être« belle », une chose doit être créée, formée, contemplée avec l’intention qu’elle deviendra belle. C'est à dire que, beauty is in the mind of the maker as much as in the eye of the beholder…même si la conception et le ressentiment ne sont pas assortis.

I’ve always liked things to be put away and orderly. There’s a simple elegance to tidiness. Later I learned that a few misplaced items créent un sens d’interêt…it can bring you in and keep you there. But, too much and it’s like walking into a tiny room with a rock concert, a parade of official vehicles blaring their sirens, and an army of hungry, screaming babies—all filling the air with the concussive,cacophonous force of sound at the same time. Ça fait trop.

Selon mon avis, il y a une tension entre l’ordre et le intéressant (I don’t want to say « chaos »). Beauty finds the equilibrium. Too much order makes things boring and feeble. Trop d’intérêt est écrassant.

Ilearned this lesson fairly early in life. I’ve struggled with it. C’est une grande idée...avec beaucoup d’aspects. For me, finding the good in life =trouver la beauté = finding the right balance.

Je suis reconnaissant de la courage et l’attachement que les policiers et les pompiers ont pour leur travails. I deeply admire the desire to help others. Même plus, j’admire la beauté. Conséquemment, j’admire les streetwalkers, the homeless, et les criminels quelques fois.They have an important role; they tell more about the society than social structure itself. Ils fonctionnent comme un miroir qui révèle les profondeurs que le monde superficiel ne montre pas. They prove a harmonious tension.

Car, tout ensemble, chacun fait le monde just a little bit more beautiful. Together we compose un chef d’œuvre.

Hmmm...the lessons we take from childhood have a delightful complexity, n'est-ce pas?