Lottery

I didn't play the Lottery in Spain, where it's pretty big. Maybe I would buy a ticket for the big drawing on Christmas, but that was all. But for the last months I have been religiously playing the same umbers, twice a week, for the Mega Millions. Just a dollar a time. I just play because I would love to be able to go back to my former neighborhood, Lincoln Park, and I know that the only way I will ever be able to buy a house there is if I win the Lottery. I don't think I would change anything else. Maybe I would fly business on my long hauls with Lucas, but that would be it. I just want a house. In the most beautiful neighborhood in Chicago. While I wait, I see the snowflakes falling, just a few of them, but so constantly that I'll have to walk on snow when I go later to get my ticket.

Revolutionary Road

My twenty one month old son just bit me. Hard. After he broke his bedroom's door. Is the "terrible two's"? I had never heard of that term until I had a baby in the States. We don't have anything like that in Spain, but I guess that kids there are terrible at any time... It may be a result of how badly my parents spoiled him in Spain. It was their house and their rules, they said, and babies don't cry there... Six weeks of that, and L has turned into a little "monstruito". I hope it's just a stage, and that it will pass quickly...
But I was going to talk about something else. I went to the movies on Saturday with husband. Brave of us, considering that it was 8 degrees when we got into the theater. We watched Revolutionary Road. It was so good that I didn't minded how depressing it was. Dense and hard movie to watch, but very very good. I don;t go to the movies often anymore, maybe once every couple of months at most. When I was younger I used to go twice a week, since I love cinema. I even made it part of the PhD I was taking (and I hope to resume at some point). But I don't have time anymore. Going to the movies involves a babysitter, dining out, prepare everything to leave the baby at home (specially my self consciousness, since I still feel a little bit guilty when I leave him; you can call it Stockholm syndrome). So I usually enjoy it a lot, since it's a special occasion. This time it wasn't a exception. And the movie touched so many aspects of my life... I could be April any day of the week. I get her sadness, her lost, her hope, broken once again... But it helped me realize that I am still on time to avoid getting to that point, to fix things, to fix my life... I didn't like Leonardo Di Caprio until I saw Gangs of New York on Christmas. I still think he looks a bit too young opposed to Kate Winslet, but he does a remarkable job, and so does her. Great performances, that help build the tension throughout the movie. Tension not eased by the fact that you cannot smoke on cinemas anymore, and they smoke hundreds of cigarettes. But that deserves a whole entry on its own.

Jet-lagged

I'm tired, fussy, dizzy, bored and unhappy. All together. Like my son. I didn't feel like coming back this time. It happens every six months, we go to Spain for six weeks, to see the family (and friends). I'm usually done with the trip by week number four. But this time, I didn't really want to come back. I was quite happy and content back home. And that may be it, the term home. Before I had a lovely apartment in my favorite neighborhood in Chicago (as I delete "u"s I realize I still write with a British accent). My little yellow apartment. It's still ours, but we don;t live there anymore, we live in a rental apartment in a two flat home, in a different neighborhood. I thought I would get used and like it, but I don't. I miss my old place. But I can't go back. I'm trapped here for a while. It's not the house's fault, it's me. I don't like changes, unless they leave me in a much better position, which was not the case. So I'm sad. And I feel lonely. I am alone, in the sole company of a sleeping one year old. At least he is lovely and warm and funny and smiley. That may brighten my afternoon. When I'm in the mood, I'll write a vacation post.

Mi hermana la cosmopolita

That´s probably what my sister says when she rolls her eyes to criticize something about my lifestle, behaviour, clothing, choices...It happens way to often for my taste, specially considering that we see each other at most twenty days a year. She is 45, I´m 29, and that my be one of the reasons why we clash so much. But it´s not only generational. It´s just that we couldn´t be more different. She could have been my mother, and for a while I thought she was, after a stupid line she dropped once a loooooong time ago after reading my school report card. I researched with a friend, but we couldn´t find anything, apart from a couple of suspicious things. But we are in Spain, where it´s very easy to forge any kind of official document you have. I have forged my husband´s signature whenever necessary (I´ll say moe about that whenever I write a wedding post). I guess it couls still be possible, but at 17 I decided I didn´t care anymore.