Silk Road Theater

Today I attended my first fundraiser. I have to say tat it was a very American experience. For Europeans like me, it's a gathering of people to raise funds for a cause. You meet for drinks, dinner and dance or a show. You buy tickets to profit the cause. And you try to attract more people from outside. Pretty much what the Catholic church has been doing for several centuries. I have to say that it was fun. A friend took me there, since she had a last minute spare ticket. The food was good, we dined at the Walnut Room in the former Marshall Fields. Then we headed to the Silk Road Theater, which is located in the basement of the First United Methodist church downtown. For Chicago outsiders, this is a church that has twenty stories between the church and the tower. Stories with windows, it looks like a remarkable office building. The theater itself is the charity, and it tries to address issues of diversity in America. The show was very well put together, enjoyable, and performed by an ensemble that was very dedicated to the project. A lovely night. And I even had some extra entertainment exchanging glances with an extremely well dressed Bardem lookalike who seemed completely serious and insensitive until he started singing along to one of the songs from Miss Saigon. Curioso.

cooktopless

Only when you are deprived of them do you realize how much you use, thus how much you miss certain things. Like a cooktop. Since the fire incident last week we are without one. I'm sure this will be solved in the next days, but the experience is teaching me how much one can miss boiling water for tea. Or eggs, for that matter. Cooking pasta, or making a soup. Grilling steaks, and sandwiches. Frying any kind of stuff. Brewing coffee in a tiny Bialetti. There are so many things one can do with a little fire...

Craziness

I hear that we are in a recession. And somehow, even when I am not looking for one, job interviews land in my lap. The last one is quite bizarre, so much that I did it today and I am still not sure of what the job is. I don't think the employer has a clear idea either. Which makes it double fun. He is an artist with a gallery that is selling very well. And he needs what we could describe as a marketing/PR adviser, none of which I am, but both of which I could become. It sounds really interesting, and as we say in Spanish, I think I am able to sell sand in the desert, so, if I am offered the job, I may give it a try. It's a challenge. And I love those. I have half a PhD in Spanish Literature, but I don't think that will fly as marketing experience. But the guy is a risk taker who seems to go with the flow, and I am certainly flowy... I will keep posting about this.
Last Friday I went to a Department drink meeting, and I really enjoyed meeting the people who work there, including the cute young Italian professor. Hmmmm, maybe I should start taking Italian classes again. And I found out that they are going to renew my contract for Winter, and most likely Spring. I'm very happy about it, since I like my students, and they like me enough to want to sign up for my classes. I may not be the disaster I think I am. And I love the University where I am teaching.
Little L likes his new teacher, although I am not sure if I like the daycare enough. I'm still on the lookout for something I like better. While I do that, I wait impatiently for my mom to send me the third installment of Millennium. Is nowhere to be found in the United States. So she is shipping it from Spain.

Wired after the fire

I'm trapped in a huge hotel bed. I guess it is a King size bed, although since I have a Full, anything looks big to me. I'm trapped by wires, the one that connects me to the Internet to my left, the one that connects me to an electric outlet to my right. I should be grading exams, but I had a night too interesting not to tell about it. It started fine, I was grading, while delicious bolognese pasta was being cooked in the kitchen. And then, my name screamed interrupted me. I took my son, left the apartment, called the doorman, sit down by the elevator with my heart racing... It was little, but smokey. They managed to take care of it, but the smell of burned plastic was so dense, and Little L's throat and mine were already so sore by our lovely colds/infections.whatevers that we (meaning I) decided to spend the night at a hotel, so we could sleep. The bed is comfortable. We are downtown. It could even be sexy, if it weren't for the fact that there is a toddler sleeping in the room with us. And I still have to grade. But I have to make sure I can still be fair...

Bummer

Chicago didn't get the Olympics. I was rooting for Chicago, a fact that surprised many people, who would expect a Spaniard to root for Madrid. But I have lived here for six years. I know they would have been great in this city. But probably Mayor Daley doesn't fit the European like diplomacy that goes on before this kind of election. Maybe next time. I'm just sad we won't see Obama hosting them. In another order of things, I'm mesmerized by the David Letterman story. Not by the story itself, but how it is being told. For a long time I wanted to be a journalist, and as a Literature major I remain interested in how the media work. Depending on what you are reading, the headline is totally different. They could be divided in two groups, the ones that start
"David Letterman had sex with his female employees", and the ones that state "David Letterman denounces blackmailing attempt". Depending on which of the two you get, the guy is pictured as a devil or a hero. Of course I have my opinion on the issue, he was very brave to denounce it, and whom he sleeps with is none of our business. But I'm surprised to see that in American media, it's him the one that's getting the guilty mediatic verdict, instead of the guy who actually committed a crime, the blackmailer. It's just a thought.