A Little Something Sweeney: Family. Friends. Fiction. Food.

Well, I´m just gonna get right down to business, 1. because I´m not really in a blogging mood, and 2. This keyboard sucks more than a vortex. Literally, thank you to all the OTHER spacebars in the world that function properly. A holiday to celebrate you to be shortly announced. But what to say more than jdfkljdkfjakljdfkdlfjdakljf(/%$&/?????????????? Yeah, I think that´s the language I feel fluent in right now. The "what the frick?" one. I will describe being a trainer like this: it means being tired. And fluent. But mostly tired and fluent. Well, forcibly fluent. I don´t know what it is that makes the human brain go into overdrive when it knows it has no guardrails, but as soon as all my Spanish safeguards left (Hermanas Lund and Amaya), my brain was like, "well, crap... let´s understand some Spanish, shall we?" So, we have been, better and better. Not to say I understand every single thing, but man, is it nice to feel fluent. But not so nice to feel tired. Th

Well, as much as I like words (I really, REALLY do), they simply don't suffice to describe the myriad of sentiments I am currently experiencing. Hermana Lund, my good mission madrastra, buddy, and American sanity in a sea of Latins, as gone the way of the earth. Kicked the bucket, so to speak. In terms of her mission experience, she is dead and gone. And it sucks. There's just not really a more eloquent way to describe it. This seems to be one of my personality traits: I just can't let go of things, whether that includes bad feelings or good. And I think about it too much. Like, "yeah, it was great to have that time living together, blah blah blah, but it's never going to be the SAME again." Nothing stays the same. What an original idea. But still, original or not doesn't change the potency of the feelings that accompany the concept. And mine is sadness. I could say the blow was softened by the amount of crap I inherited from her, but that wouldn't b

Don't you just love it? So inspirational. So uplifting. Maybe so unlike past blogs? I couldn't tell you for beans; it's not like I read my own works of art. I guess you'll have to be the judges of that. But let me explain what I mean, because well, if I don't, you won't have the foggiest idea of what I'm talking about. Anyway, it has come to my attention lately that I'm pretty good at doing a lot of things. Sound like I'm bragging? I sure am! It finally made sense to me a couple weeks ago why some people come home from their missions depressed. It's because we're mere children out here, with not a clue what the frick we're doing and yet, all these people are dumping all this responsibility on us like we're professionals. So, you better learn to play the part or you're gonna look like a dern fool. Some examples coming your way just around the riverbend. I've already mentioned that I have somehow found myself in the posi

Ok, first of all, let's all take a moment and appreciate that today, the 27th of February, is the D.R. Day of Independence. Which means about everyone on the street got drunk at 11:00 instead of directly at noon. And there were flags covering every available space of public and private institutions. But more importantly, it's my official seventh month on the mission. As long as we're prioritizing here. I personally can't decide if it seems like the time is speeding or dragging. Or both. Depends on the day. For example, all P-days go by in a blur of early morning cleaning and a frenzy of letter writing. But the days when we have three Josés in a row to teach and none of them are home when we come by, well, those are the days that seem like weeks. But yeah, I woke up to a bunch of ridiculously cute "congratulations" cards from my companion and housemates today. Awwww. The only thing better than patting yourself on the back is having so