I have a problem with the concept of boredom, I always kind of have. When I was younger, I’d listen to my friends say they were bored when they were put in fascinating situations, and then suddenly become entranced with something I found… Boring. Now, here I am in Mexico, with very little to do. I could embrace this idea and work on JUST Spanish, which I can’t do, because I have homework. But after my homework is done, I find myself complaining about boredom. Maybe it’s just because I’ve had a cold, and I have nothing to worry about. I’m not really sure. I keep hearing three phrases come out of my mouth a lot right now, all of which bother me a little bit. One of those, is “I’m bored”, though that’s often more of a muttering than an announcement considering that I’m ashamed of my boredom. The other two are “I’m cold” and “I’m hot”. The problem I have with the first phrase is obvious. I’m in a warm place where the weather is summer-like, and the temperature rarely gets below sixty (seventy might even be reasonable.). And I’m going upstairs to gather my UNDERARMOUR HOODIE because I’M COLD! I mean, honestly. I’m in freaking Mexico, and I’m complaining about being cold. I really need to get over it.
The phrase “I’m hot” is really quite dumb for where I get to be during this cold dark area back in Nebraska. The other day, I called one of my friends, and asked one of the questions I always ask. “What’s the weather like back there?” I asked curiously.
“Well, it’s warmer than it has been.” She said hopefully.
“What’s the temperature like?” I wanted more information. Does warmer mean no snow? Or that everything looks like a giant dumped a Mega-Slushie on it?
“It was twenty seven degrees today, and it’s been somewhere around 22 degrees for a while so…” She replied, obviously trying to sound enchanted for my sake. I usually try not to boast too much about how warm I am, and how I’m wearing a tank top and shorts with my hair blowing in the ocean breeze, but I couldn’t help it. I boasted a little.
When I say “I’m hot”, it’s like I’m telling the Powers That Be that I am ungrateful for their gift of the existence of warm places, and the fact that I’m located in one of these warm places. I don’t want to send that message. What if Mexico freezes over next year or something because I said “I’m hot” once when my mom was complaining about hunger (also, a major problem I’m having)?
Today we got some bread. I’m saving it for a treat later on tonight, I don’t want to hate it by the time it’s gone. I want to at least enjoy it. In my planning for my dessert that I will have tonight after dinner, I am starving myself. My stomach voices it’s protest loudly, but I keep telling it that we will be okay, and that it will thank me later for this two hour period of starvation. I would eat something, but nothing looks like it would be worth my attention. So I’ll wait.
Earlier, I went for a walk with my mom along the Malecon. We walked all the way to the end of it, and back. It was a big deal, and a huge outing, but I haven’t passed out from exhaustion yet, which is excellent! As we walked from our house to the Malecon, we noticed a mother dog standing on a roof, whimpering. I felt bad for it, I figured that she needed to get down to take care of her puppies, but neither me nor my mom were going to reach up to the roof and save the mama dog.
Later on when we went to the Café La Habana to work on some stuff, the mama dog was still up there. People watching was great today though. There were lots of people on the beach, in the water, and still more walking and talking along the Malecon. I wasn’t able to look up much, but there was one group that came in that contained a woman in a purple shirt who was really trying to stand out and be the center of attention. She put her chair farther away from the table than everybody else, talked frequently and loudly, and walked around a lot and hugged the other people at the table. I hope that I don’t look like that when I’m with my friends…
If I wouldn’t have been doing math, I would have had more stories, but I was doing math. Every once and a while, a man would walk by with a platter of sweets shouting softly, but mournfully “merengues? Merengues?” at every passerby. There is also a man who shouts something about chiles occasionally. There is a man closer to our home who rides a bike, and honks a little horn profusely in an attempt to sell SOMETHING. I’m thinking that he honks the horn more on good days than on bad days. Then, there are the people we saw yesterday, who were selling tables by carrying them on their heads and shouting about the good news.
Me and my mom walked back from the Café La Habana around threeish, and got home at three fifteen. My dad went to the Spanish school (our other internet place) to work until five or six. As my mother and I latched the gate, and began to unlock the door into our humble abode (I had the honor of carrying the key for the whole day today), we noticed two things. One, we had left our window wide open, yet again. We seem to have a bad habit of this. Two, the little plant that had been so carefully placed on our windowsill outside, was dying. I am going to start watering the little guy now. He doesn’t have a name yet, but a name will come with time, as I will probably start talking to him.