Well, things are much the same up here. My job goes on, bla bla bla. Due to a major fuck up with Major Marine, the competitor company with KFT, we suddenly have an assload more work to do on the island. You see one of Major Marine’s boats hit a rock while on a cruise with 160 people. One of our boats, which happened to be stopped at the island at the time, went out to save the tourists before the boat could sink, which they did successfully. But now, all the people that had booked a tour on Major Marine have no where to go, so KFT is picking up the tours. Which means we have an extra boat coming out to the island, and which means that the last boat of the evening, instead of consistently having about 30 to 50 people on it, now has more like 90 to 120. Which means, more work for us, with not really any more pay. But, supposedly, the Major Marine boat is supposed to be back in the water soon, like within two weeks. We’ll see if that happens.But it’s all a matter of perspective. Last week I ended up hopping on the shuttle for my ride back to town for my day off. They had picked up all the island garbage, so I volunteered to help them unload it all. It was absolutely POURING down rain that day, dumping buckets. I hadn’t brought my rain coat, and my fleece was quickly soaked through to my skin, and my hair was sopping. Nevertheless, I was doing my part in helping haul the garbage. Now I know why they always tell us to keep those bags light; you have to lift them up like over your head (well okay, over my head) to get them into the dumpster, and that is no fun at all if they rip open and start spilling hot cocoa and corn cobs all over you.So Tiff tells me to go get the keys to the truck from the office and go to the warehouse and drive it back to the dock. “What truck?” I say. “You know, the truck. With the high sides,” she says. “It’s an automatic; you shouldn’t have a problem.” Oooookay. So after getting the keys (which, in and of itself, was an ordeal) I go to “the warehouse” to pick up the car. Now, the unofficial name for the building that we stay in when we get off the island is the warehouse. There is, however, another warehouse, when this truck was parked. But when Tiff said “the warehouse” I of course thought of the bunk house. So that’s where I went. There were about five trucks parked in the driveway, none of which the key Tiff had given me fit. After some lady gave me a really dirty look, I finally admitted that I must be in the wrong place. So I went upstairs and begged someone for a ride to the correct warehouse.Now, this truck, though an automatic, was not the most straightforward vehicle to drive. After getting in (or should I say, climbing in) I looked for the gear shift, but where it should be, all I saw was this really weird shifter thing I had never seen before, which I later found out controlled a snow plow. I then realized that the normal shift was above the steering wheel, and then I was pretty much good to go. I managed to drive the tank back to the dock without hitting anything. I really probably should have turned the lights on, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it. I don’t feel so bad about this though since later I found out that you can only turn them on with pliers. So after I got to the dock we loaded up the propane tanks and Tiff and Dane gave me a lift back to the OTHER warehouse that I know and love. So, the moral of the story is, no matter how shitty your job is, there’s always a shittier one out there.I feel like in the past few weeks I’ve experienced my entire spectrum of emotions. I’ve gone from extreme excitement, to extremely stressed out, from total confusion to totally calm. I’ve got a lot of stuff I’ve been trying to work out. I decided after all not to apply to graduate school next year. Instead, I’m going to try to move down to California in order to establish residency before I go. I decided all this after I called one of the schools I’ve been thinking about and the woman told me that not only would being a resident automatically save me like $20,000, but I would be more likely to be funded, as well as more likely to be accepted. For about a split second I considered trying to move down to California this September so I could still apply this year, but I don’t think it’d be worth it. Yea, I could go ahead and apply right away, but I wouldn’t get to go back to Spain. And after all I’ve already bought my ticket. Besides, I figure, this is the last chance in my life I’ll have to just fuck off for a while. After I apply and go to grad school, I’ll be in school and working all the time, then when I’m done I’ll have to find a real job and stuff. This is the last opportunity I’ll have to just fart around. Why would I want to cut that short?The whole moving thing of course is easier said than done. I wish I knew more people in California, but I don’t. That’s just the way it is I guess. I’ll probably end up having to do it all on my own. It’s strange but for some reason the concept of moving to California seems a lot harder to me than the idea of moving to Madrid. I’d probably have to find a place before I found a job, and who knows if anyone would rent to me if I didn’t have a job first and..augh. I don’t know. I hate money.