Man. I really don't know what I'm feeling right now. I'm feeling like 1,000 emotions all at one time, and it's hard for me to differentiate between them. I'm excited about going to Madrid again, making new friends, having lots of fun, learning Spanish better...but at the same time I'm equally if not more nervous about exactly the same things. I'm nervous about finding a job. I know I CAN find one, I am just not looking forward to pounding the pavement at ALL. What about my roommates? Now I feel stupid for not asking Jose who they are. Though..it really doesn't make any difference. I doubt Jose would put me with anyone creepy or old, but you never know. I just do NOT want a repeat of what happened last time...that whole situation with my roommates was really, really awful in a way I had never experienced before. I don't think I can ever look at myself the same way after that.

But I mean come on, the odds of having another situation like that are pretty slim. At least I hope. I THINK I'm pretty easy to get along with..but I'm not really sure about that actually. I don't understand myself and how I behave sometimes. This time, I need to put out a real effort to be friendly and accomodating and understanding right from the beginning. It's important to start off on the right foot with these people. Man, it would be so cool if I ended up staying with people I really liked..people I could be friends with, people who like to go out to the same types of places as I do. Andrea is a good friend, but she' s not a partier. I'm not a huge partier either, but I often like to go along if other people are planning something. And I like to have people around who will want to come with me when I'm trying to plan something myself.

I'm just so NERVOUS. I don't know how it's going to turn out. You would think I would be less nervous this time than last time, since I know the city and know the ropes a bit. But I don't know, it almost seems like that's what's making me so nervous. Because I know how difficult it could turn out to be. I want this year to be better than last year. Considering the fact that last year was not all that great..there were definitely some major problems -- it seems like it wouldn't be that hard for this year to be better. Well, I certainly hope so anyway. I just don't know. There are so many unknowns.

And I am so lonely. I hate admitting it. I'm not sure if I've even said it out loud yet. But I am so loney right now! What am I doing this for? Why do I keep leaving the few people I love in search of something different? I want a partner so badly. I want someone who wants to hug me all the time, who I can lay on top of and hear his heart beat. Someone' s mouth to touch. Someone who will listen to all my daily crap. God, I want that so much! You wouldn't think it would be so fucking difficult to find.

I wish I weren't so shy. I've wished this my entire life, and yet I still am. I am terrified to talk to people I don't know, and it keeps me from getting what I want. I keep planning on trying to do better, and then I don't. What is holding me back? I almost feel like it's a physical entity. The physical entity is probably myself.

I'm so nervous. I can't focus, I can't think. I don't know what to do with myself. I just need to get there, get there get there..fill in some of these blanks in my mind right now. It's all the blanks that are driving me crazy. It's driving me crazy! AAAH!

Hiya folks. What’s happening? Well, I finally have something kind of interesting to report. After working almost nonstop for four months, having little to no free time and spending the vast majority of that finite free time trapped on an island with a half mile radius, it was time for a vacation. And a vacation did we have.

So Mel’s mom and sister came up from Oregon this past week, which created a perfect opportunity for her to hang out with her family that she hadn’t seen for a long time, and for me to tag along. Although I think in this type of situation it would be easy to feel like the fifth wheel, I really felt, rather appropriately, more like the fourth. Much as would occur in my family, I have the feeling that an outside influence probably ended up keeping everybody on their best behavior, and petty disputes to a minimum.

So first we headed out from Seward to Girdwood, Mel, mom, sister, David, Rachel, and myself. We all piled into the rented Chevrolet, and Mel’s intrepid 1974 Volvo station wagon to make the two hour journey. Upon arrival, it didn’t take long until we were taking advantage of the hot tub available at our rented condo, nor did it take long for us to fall back into the groove of ACTUALLY being able to consume alcohol without fear of retribution. (Incidentally, since I haven’t been drinking too much this summer, my tolerance has gone WAY down. The days of me downing an entire bottle of wine without skipping a beat are over. At least, for now. I shudder to imagine myself on my first free weekend in Spain).

The next morning we all got up early and set out to go hiking in Whittier, quite possibly the oddest town in the entire United States of America. Alaska is remote, period. Seventy percent of its towns are not accessible by road. Although reachable by car, you can only access Whittier through one particular tunnel through a mountain which is only one lane wide, and which is shared with the railroad. About every 45 minutes the flow of traffic changes direction, and you can go from one side to the other. Everyone who lives in the town (about 200 year round residents) live in the same building, kind of a Seattle Best Western looking thing. The old building, of which the bare, windowless shell remains, was damaged in the 1963 earthquake, and stands up on the hill, imposing and desolate, doubling as I’m sure the basis of many a town ghost story, as well as teenager make-out central, and pot smoker’s haven.

Our purpose for visiting this bizarre-ass place was for hiking, which we did. In Alaska, they do not believe in switchbacks. It’s all vertical, all the time. But we all made it up without too much of a problem and got a nice, clear view of Portage Glacier. Afterwards we made it back to Girdwood for another evening in the hot tub and sauna.

The real fun began the next day, however. Mel, her mom, sister, and I drove up to Talkeetna lodge in the rental car. Although it was kind of overcast and splotchy, Mel and I managed to catch a flightseeing tour of Mount McKinley, which was AWESOME. We did a couple swoops around the mountain, checking out the climbing trails and glaciers that form this tallest peak in North America. We felt especially hardcore because at the high altitudes, we had to wear oxygen masks. The coolest part too is that although the tour usually costs like $250, Mel and I got to go FO’ FREE because of our KFT connections. Ah, the perks of working for a massive, corporate company.

That night, we had a serendipitous encounter with the unsinkable Jacob Berg and Paul Krog. They too were on an Alaskan adventure, but had headed out long before us for the Artic Circle and were on their way back. It was by pure coincidence (or design?) that we happened to run into them in the natural foods store outside of the place where we did the flightseeing tour. They told us of word they had heard about a band playing at a local bar that night, and we decided to check it out.

And, ladies and gentlemen, it was SO MUCH FUN. I’m not sure if it was the company, or the fact that I was on vacation, or the fact that I was simply off the island, or, it could have been the ten + drinks that we had that night, but we all had a BLAST. The music was GREAT, the crowd was fun, the liquor was strong, and our spirits were high. What made it even better, at least to me, was that I was sporting one of our newly created island t-shirts. You see, some of us Fox Islanders had decided to get together to make t-shirts commemorating our summer experience, so we had these jerseys printed out that say on the front, “Fox Island, Summer 2004.” And then on the back they say, “I can’t. I’m Mormon.” Now, of course, my t-shirt was worn in complete irony, but don’t worry about me being offensive because two of the Mormons themselves bought the shirts too. It’s so fun. They’re all different colors. Mine is purple.

The next morning, I have to say, in all honesty, Mel and I were rock stars. After dancing our asses off, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and staying out until three in the morning (we were lucky enough to find a ride back with some random dudes..I have no idea what their names were) we managed to rally and get up at five to drive three hours to Denali National Park to take a seven hour bus tour into the park. It was super-cool though. We saw moose, lots of birds, wolves, grizzly bears. Definitely worth the sleep deprivation. I think I still like the ocean better though. Something about being on the water.

The only problem with this little vacation, is that midway through Mel and I realized that there was no possible way that we could make it back to the Island on the day we said we would. I kind of suspected this the whole time, but I was just kind of jumping on the band wagon and assuming it would all work out. However, it sort of didn’t, and we soon admitted (not at all grudgingly, I might add) that we’d have to stay away one more day. So Mel calls Jesse and makes up this itty bitty fib about her car breaking down and us being stuck in Anchorage, which, okay, was not ENTIRELY true, but almost sort of was. Only Jesse happened to be off the island and see Mel’s car, so he knew we were lying. So Mel had to call him back and sort of come clean (well, not entirely, but close enough), which actually makes me feel better, because I am the world’s worst liar, and upon seeing Jesse after we get back I probably would have been like, first thing, Jesse would say, “Well, hi, Chloe. How was your break?” And I would be like, “OH MY GOD. OKAY, IT WAS A LIE!! MEL’S CAR NEVER BROKE DOWN!! IT WAS A BIG, UGLY LIIIIIEE!” So it’s better this way. And we spent this extra time we had productively getting haircuts (Mel has a cute new bob, and I have bangs) and watching Margaret Cho DVDs.

But alas, we must go back to the grind tomorrow. I only have like two more weeks left out here. God that’s frightening. It kind of seems like I just got here yesterday. But then again at the same time, it feels like I’ve been here forever. People have started to leave. Christina, the uber-Christian, was the first to go. And, you know what, I think I’ll miss the little lady. Although she bugged the crap out of me for a long time at first, we really came to some sort of mutual understanding and respect. Not to sound all after-school special or anything, but it’s kind of true. I think the summer was really good for her. She mellowed out A LOT. And I too probably came to understand and tolerate her kind, as well as her understanding mine.

There are only about half of us left now. One of which, unfortunately, is Brad the chef. Though I might’ve learned to like Christina, I have NOT learned to like him. Neither has anyone else. He still sucks big hairy monkey balls. In my opinion. I’m not sure what the next year will bring for me, but I really hope to make it back up here next summer. Paul, Jacob, Mel and I plan to set out on The Great Alaskan Adventure, Part II. I don’t know the details, but it will most likely include visiting the Artic Circle and a cross-country scavenger hunt. I will keep you posted on that one.

As my time on the island draws to a close, I realize that, although I sure liked to bitch about it a lot, we really had a lot of fun this summer. Not a day went by when I didn’t end up cracking up laughing at SOMEthing or other. Be it David bleaching his hair platinum blond and cutting it into a mullet, Mel accidentally giving me a right hook to the stomach, Merlin dropping a dump large enough in the crew cabin so as to evacuate the whole building, Sam doing his black girl booty dance, Wiesel accidentally dropping the f-bomb in front of the guests, or me being totally CONVINCED that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston had dropped anchor in Seward and been spotted by Tina renting a movie at First Video, something every day always seemed to make me guffaw. We really sort of developed our own weird little society out there. There will never be anything quite like it again.

Things are much the same here in the north. Doo bee doo..my job is boring and repetitive and easy. But whatever. We have a lot of laughs. I think by this point in the season we have all developed "island fever" and have started thinking rather odd things are fun and/or amusing. It's finally starting to get dark again, and the sky is absolutely beautiful. It's the most beautiful sky I've ever seen. After work I like to go and sit outside for a while and watch for shooting stars. Out here, especially on the island, I am probably about as removed from the rest of the world as I ever will be in my whole life, and a lot more removed than most people will ever be. I've had a lot of time to think...don't know if I've figured much out though, with that time, but hopefully it's been valuable in some way or another.

Hrm. Wow. Life is weird. It makes me feel good that you think I'm a doer. I don't always feel like I am. I always feel like...I have these plans to do things that seem hard..move to Spain, move to Alaska, move back to Spain, go to grad school, etc. And they all seem really hard, but then, I do it, and afterwards, it seems like no big deal at all. Like anybody could do it. I mean, if I could do it, why couldn't everybody else? Of course, that's not true; not everyone could. Or, more importantly, not everyone would. And, I think you're having the same thought where you are. You're like, hey, yea, I'm living in Scotland, working, hanging out, it's easy, anyone could do it. But then, you talk to other people about it, and they're like WOW! That's so cool! You've experienced that, haven't you? I mean, I'm impressed with your being there. I'd kind of like to be there too, to try something new, instead of going back to the same thing.
I think a lot of people get trapped and conplacent in their life. They are comfortable, but not great, but don't want to rock the boat, because rocking the boat is scary. And..I don't know, I don't really have a suggestion for doing that. I'm scared to do it too. I'm nervous about going back to Spain. I'm nervous about finding a decent job, I'm worried about making friends again. Starting over again. It's hard to start over, but it seems like every time I do, I learn a lot of things. About myself, about how the world works, about other people. It's important to keep learning things. Especially during this period in our lives. The way I see it, this is the perfect period for our feeling this way. This is when we're SUPPOSED to be confused and be looking for direction and meaning in our lives. Why cut that short by finding a real job and settling down and stuff?
I always try to plan things way in the future. I get stressed out that is still really far away and that will, in the end, no doubt work itself out. But..a certain degree of planning is a good idea I think. Even if things work out differently than I expected, at least I feel like I had some control over the outcome.
So..I don't know what my advice would be. I've been dealing with a lot of stuff in my own life lately too. Like having the fundamental awareness that I am pretty much alone in this world, alone on this quest. I've been feeling really lonely lately...I hate the fact that I want a boyfriend, but, well, I do. I HATE that though because I pride myself on being completely self-sufficient and independent, but I feel really lonely these days and just want someone to hug. I just feel so unattractive and unlovable. Ugh. But that's a different story.
I guess my advice would be...don't worry about it too much, because we kind of have a license to fuck off right now, at least for a few more years. And..well, maybe you SHOULD try moving again, if you're feeling stuck and bored and unfulfilled. Course, I'm kind of biased saying that, becuase I want you to move to Spain and live with me!! :)

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.

Me, I'm doing okay. Since I wrote my last email I've kind of changed my mind about the school thing. I'm probably actually going to try to move to CA within the next year and establish residency before I apply, so I'd be waiting one more year before going. I wish I knew more people in CA, it'd be a lot easier. Or I wish someone would move WITH me. But I'm probably going to be doing it all on my own.Damn it. I've been loooonely lately. It doesn't have that much to do with being here right now, just where I am in my life I guess. I'm getting tired of doing everything by myself. But I don't really have a choice I guess. I just feel like..fuck..I just have no luck. I HATE wanting a boyfriend. It goes against everything I believe in. I want to be completely self-sufficient, self-sustaining, self-everything. I can do this on my OWN, damn it. But at the same time, I don't know, I guess it's just a human need, wanting someone to be with. And I HATE it, because I don't HAVE anyone to be with, and don't see anyone popping up in the near future. I feel like there's something WRONG with me, like, people don't like me, or I'm not attractive, or whatever. Or is it just I haven't met the right person? But it seems like for most people there are lots of right persons, you would think one or another would pop up. Course, living on an island with 15 people half of whom are married limits my chances, but this has been the case for me for like the past two years or something. So I feel like, okay, fine, no one wants me. So I'm going to do it on my own then. Which is why I think it's so important for me to feel self-sufficient. But it isn't working, and I still want someone. Ugh. I'm just being melodramatic I'm sure. My stupid little problems are nothing in comparison with half the people's on the planet. I'm just being selfish and retarded. Anyhoo, I need to get ready to go back to the island.

Hi guys! What’s up? It’s been a while since I’ve written I realize, longer than usual. That’s for a couple of reasons. One, is that I haven’t been up to that much interesting stuff lately. The other is that I live on an island and don’t have very easy access to the internet, so even when I do feel like writing an email, most of the time I can’t. But anyway, here I am now. We are now officially into mid-summer. The island has been very busy lately with a lot of full boats and a lot of salmon to be cut. Everybody has basically settled into their groove, including myself. The people who were really bugging me have mellowed out a bit. That, and I’ve gotten used to them. Christina, the born-againer, is easier to talk to. Mel and I have been teaching her the “dude there’s your boyfriend” game, I’ve gotten her to like Tori Amos. In general she’s loosening up. Brad, the cock-sucker of a chef, is still a cock-sucker, but I have learned to tolerate him. We have come to a certain degree of…understanding. And the Mormons are the Mormons.My job itself is pretty easy. I do basically the same thing every day. After work I have only a finite number of options of things to do, one of which is knitting, which I have been doing a lot of. On my time off, I hang out in Seward mostly. It’s actually a pretty nice town, surprisingly enough. There are only about 3,000 year round residents. Working for Kenai Fjords Tours means that I automatically know about half of them, many of whom are cool. Many of whom are a lot cooler than the people I live with on the island, but such is my fate. I’m thinking about next year, and I think I might like to be a deck hand on one of the tour boats. It seems like it would be kinda fun. I like to go on the tours when I’m in town, go out and see the whales, the orcas, humpbacks, pacific whitesided dolphins, dall porpoises, sea otters, etc. It’s very relaxing on the boats.Things are alright. I’ve been feeling kind of lonely lately. Everybody being all married and paired off is kinda weird. Most of the time I don’t really care, or try not to care, about the fact that I’m alone, but when everybody around you is all kissy face and smoochy smoochy and soooo in loooove it can get to you. Mel is of course my best friend out here. Now she has kind of hooked up with a guy who lives in town, which is cool for her, but it means she’s interested in spending less time with me it seems. I hate to be jealous. I think of all human emotions, jealousy is one of the most ugly. But I think I have to admit that I am, just a wee bit. Okay, a lot. And the other thing is, that she didn’t tell me about this. I figured it out on my own. So how good of friends can we be if she doesn’t tell me stuff like that? I talked to her about it afterwards, but still. I still feel a little weird. I don’t know if she feels weird at all though. It’s really my problem anyway, not hers.Anyway. I’ve decided for sure that I’m going back to Spain though. I bought my ticket already for September. I’m coming back in December though for Christmas and stuff, and depending on how well things are going over there, I may or may not go back. I mean, I will PROBABLY go back, but you know, I’m keeping my options open. And I’ve decided I’m definitely for sure applying to graduate school next year, most likely in California. I need to get my ass back to school.Anyway, this email probably isn’t as interesting as some of mine have been in the past, but I’m kind of in a weird mood I suppose.

Everyone is out on the island now, so no more surprise people showing up. Brad the chef continues to suck big hairy monkey balls. I hate him more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my entire life, including my older brother. Everyone on the island, literally everyone, feels basically the same way as I do. We spend at least an hour a day bitching about what a cocksucker he is. We are trying to organize a coup. For a while there we thought he might have a bit of an ally in Christina, the fourth single chick who, as I feared, is a total uptight prude.Christina is a walking stereotype. She grew up in a conservative Christian household in Minnesota. She was home schooled. She goes to a Bible college. She’s a violin performance major. She teaches Sunday school. Think of exactly what you might suspect a person filling this description would be like, and that’s exactly her. There is basically nothing interesting at all about her. I don’t think she’s ever really said an original thing or had an original thought in her whole life. After all, that would be thinking outside what the church has always told her to think. I probably sound a little overactive or cruel in my description, but I have a real problem with born-againers. Probably because I grew up in that type of household, so I have first hand experience with what total bullshit it is. Christina is actually way more annoying about her religious beliefs than all the Mormons combined. I like all the Mormons as individuals, even if we have different beliefs. But Christina is way more in your face about it. She leaves her Bible all over the day lodge, she freaks out and leaves when we watch Sex and the City (love you Jeff! Email me!). She even listens to hymns while washing the dishes.Anyway though, we thought for a moment there that Christina might actually not hate Brad. After all, she’s not allowed to hate anyone, according to her religion. But that all changed when even she saw his bad side after he stood over her shoulder when she was trying to grill salmon, constantly criticizing and telling her how she was doing everything wrong while never actually offering to help. Now she hates him too. Or as close as her religion will allow her to come.Still though, it’s annoying having a religious manager. So I told you guys before that the island is “dry,” right? Well, up until recently we non-married, non-affiliated folk had been following this rule not by the letter of the law, but by the spirit, i.e., not causing any sort of problem with drinking, nor even drinking very much, or very often. Last week, after a really long, stressful day at work, Mel and I kicked back with a glass (a glass, a) of red wine. Afterwards we foolishly left out the corkscrew and two glasses with slight wine residue in the bottom. Jesse came into our cabin the next day to use the shower and found the glasses. I was using the sink at the time, so I saw the event. So Jesse was walking around all morning in a big stink, acting all pissed off. I felt really bad about it…I didn’t want Jesse to be mad at me, so I went up to him and apologized. So what does Jesse do? He calls upper management on our asses! The problem is that he is Mormon and doesn’t drink himself, and therefore does not understand it or condone it when we, or anyone does.Anyway, so Mel and I are totally freaking out. Are we going to get fired??? We think. Now I’ve done my share of illegal substances in my day, driven underage, smoked pot innumerable times, and this is the first time I’ve ever gotten in trouble for any of it. Both of us are really good girls, so we’re not used to having to go to the principal’s office. So when we get off the island and head up to Rich’s office to face the music, we are very, very nervous. “Um, Riiich…we were supposed to come talk to you when we got off the island…” we sheepishly say. “Oh yea,” he says, “I’m supposed to give you a talking to. A stern talking to.” We cower. “So…you guys know the drinking policy, right?”“Yes…”“Okay. Nuff said.”That was it. That was IT. THAT is what we were working ourselves up about. This is what happens when you live on an island too long. Your sense of reality really gets skewed. Unfortunately though I don’t think we’re going to risk it by drinking on the island again any time soon. At least not for a while…Mel and I decided to celebrate our not getting fired by getting totally, totally smashed. After all, it was Fleet Week. The U.S.S. Howard had pulled up anchor in the Seward harbor, off loading 300 horny sailors onto the Seward scene, desperately searching for pussy. Needless to say we were stoked. Mel and I decide to head out to the American Legion for some bad karaoke. I decide to wear this black tank top that I have…it’s rather low-cut. Some might say revealing. The few of you that have seen it will know what I’m talking about. Anyway, there are always KFT people hanging out at the Legion, one of whom we saw was Rodney, the deckhand. “Woa! Your boobs are going to bite me!” he said, upon my finding him there. He’s a funny guy. He couldn’t stop talking about my boobs all night. Thanks to this fiasco my new nickname is apparently Boobs Magee. I could think of a lot worse things to be called.The sailors were rather disappointing however, nothing like you see on Sex and the City (love you Jeff! Email me!). Absolutely none of them was cute. This does not, however, imply that they didn’t try to talk to us. I talked to quite a few. I also got groped by quite a few when Mel and I mistakenly tried to dance in the next bar we hopped to, the New Seward. My ass was full out slapped by a seamen who as of now remains unknown. We both ended up going home alone that night. But we still had each other, right Mel? Brad however, ended up coming home with some hoochie he found in the Pit, the alcoholic’s bar at the end of town. According to Jacob Berg, this chick “had more letters in her name than teeth in her mouth.” Any of you that are familiar with Jacob Berg will realize that such a damning assessment must mean that she is pretty freaking skanky. Needless to say, this little tidbit of information has already spread entirely around the island, as well as to half the town of Seward I’m pretty sure.So what do you think would be a really good thing to do the day after going on a huge drinking binge and waking up with a pounding hangover? Why, go on the most difficult whitewater rafting trip of your life of course! Or at least, that’s what I figured. Mel, our friend Paul and I went rafting the next day on Six Mile River. My hangover abated just in time for me to get in the boat. It was AWESOME. All of the rapids were class 4 or 5, which is the toughest a rapid can be boated. None of us fell out, for which I was very glad.The next day Mel and I hung out with some seamen. It seems that in her inebriated state on Tuesday (hi Mel!) she had given our phone number to some sailor dude and invited him to go hiking with us. Of COURSE he calls, and of COURSE he has a friend. So we all drove out to Exit Glacier to have a look around. Unfortunately, neither of the sailors was very cute. If so, the situation would have been entirely different, and we probably wouldn’t have gone anywhere but our rooms with them, if you know what I mean. Anyway, as it was we took Jacob along to help neutralize the situation. The two guys were actually pretty nice, and flirtatious in a polite way. The big, black one complimented me on my cuticles. After hiking around we dropped them off at their boat without incident. I would have liked to have a tour of the battleship. I probably could have if I had been willing to do certain favors, but it really wasn’t worth it.

This is the first email I am managing to write since starting my life in the land of the midnight sun. It is also the first day off I've had since I started working over two weeks ago. Am I tired? Yes I am.So let me tell you about my life on the island, mon. Things are going alright, though they could be better (of course, things can always be better). First, let me tell you a bit about the island. It's only about three miles around, and the only people who actually live there are those lucky folks who work there, me and about 15 other people. We have no connection with the outside world except an undependable phone and the periodic boats that stop by either to drop off supplies or to drop off hungry tourists in search for a tasty grilled salmon lunch buffet (the tastiness, btw, is quickly waring off for me). It's absolutely stunningly gorgeous out there. Although it has rained 95% of the days I have been here, today is a lovely 60 degrees or so and sunny I'd say.The island only actually opened up to tourists on Saturday, and we won't be up to full capacity for like another month. So up until Saturday my days had been full of doing random maintanence tasks, from stacking wood to hauling kayaks, to picking up broken glass to throwing away old insulation (side note: fyi, wet insulation does NOT smell good. In fact, it smells really, reallly bad). My carharts have definitely come in handy, as have my rain pants. Like I said, there's only going to be about 16 people living in the place, and the living situation is rather tight. Some retard up in corporate decided it would be a great idea to hire four married couples to live on the island. Yes folks, a quick mathematical calculation will show that this is half the population of the island. Okay, fine, whatever, that's cool. They're married, but they're all young and stuff. Young, and mormon, that is. Why ELSE would anyone in their right mind get married at 21 besides religion? Okay, fine, whatever, that's cool..they're still kind of cool to hang out with, though a little anal about the drinking, and since the island is supposed to be "dry" that's kind of annoying. It's really only dry in name though. BUT..here's the annoying part. There are basically three private sort of "cabin" things for employees to live in. Okay, that takes care of three couples. BUT..there are FOUR couples that are going to be on the island. Which MEANS that the FOURTH couple is going to have to live in the CREW cabin with US, our last safe, single refuge. WTF! That in itself sucks, for both parties involved, but it gets worse. There are three rooms in the cabin. There are four single chicks, and two single guys, which means that the fucking married bitches will get a room, the two guys will get a room, and then the FOUR SINGLE GIRLS will have to share ONE ROOM. Okay, I haven't shared a room with that many people in my whole life. I'm really pissed about it actually. One of the girls is of course Mel, my good friend, and that's cool. The other two girls aren't out there yet. One of them Mel lived with last year, and she was alright. The fourth one is an unknown. I mean, what the fuck, dude. Why didn't they hire another guy instead of another girl? The planning here is so fucking retarded I'm pissed. The problem is that the people on the mainland (in the bustling town of Seward) don't really realize what life is like out there. They know the situation, but at the same time, they really don't. They just didn't think this one through I fear. Fucking assholes.Anyway, enough of my bitching. Although working my ass off, I have been having fun, too. And making some serious bank, and saving basically all of it. After work we have been dividing our time between watching movies, reading, playing games, drinking beer, and the occasional skeet shooting. Something funny seems to happen every day, the hilarity of which is no doubt increased the more days straight we spend on the island. I remember fondly the day when Howard very nearly caught himself on fire by pouring gasoline all over a fire in order to get it to ignite, or the time when Merlin quite literally cleared out the crew cabin by the stench he created in the bathroom. Ah yes, good times, good times.Anyway, that's about it. The tourist season is really still in the warming up stage. As the days go by, there will be more and more little old ladies out for a good time, and midwest families out to see what Alaska is really about. The nights will get shorter, the daylight longer, and my cabin fever will grow ever more strong. I think I can handle it though. I do kind of wish I were living in Seward. Oh my God, did I seriously type that? Never did I think I'd see the day where SEWARD ALASKA, a bustling metropolis of 3,000, would be my idea of civilization. But it seems it has become so. Last night I did see some kickass karaoke at the American Legion though. Wow.

Alaska is Alaska. My practical pants are holding up quite well, thank you. Going native all the way. You see carhartts everywhere up here, though mine are a different color than most. I hemmed them, naturally, as they were way too long, but I don't think I actually hemmed them quite short enough, so I've been stepping on them and wearing out the cuff. I think it makes me look more hard core. And I have been doing all sorts of hardcore things in my pants, like painting buildings, stacking firewood, chopping devil's club with a machete. Oh yea.I don't know though..the whole situation up here is...okay..it's not that great though. I am trying to keep a positive attitude, but it can be difficult when stuck on an island with a bunch of married Mormons. It's just...there's not a lot of variety in who to hang out with, nor what to do with those people when you are hanging out. I mean, it IS a job after all, not Fun Camp, so I shouldn't have expected TOO much, but I didn't QUITE expect for there to be so many married folk. Mel is really the only person I truly like. The others I'm basically completely neutral about. Which is better than being negative, but nevertheless. Ugh ugh uuuugh. I don't know I'm confuuuused.

I've been out here long enough to see my share of wildlife. In the bay I've seen some orca whales, dall porpoise, some other stuff. I have yet to see any real whales up close though, but I'm sure I will. On the island we have a decent population of mink, porcupine, as well as river and sea otters that like to hang around a lot. As well as tons of birds, bald eagles, ravens, puffins, etc. I'm sure as the season rolls on, I'll see lots more.Spring is finally in full force. Within the last week, the grass has grown from practically nothing to about a foot and a half. One day out here rolls into the next. Time on the island just seems like one, huge day. Because you know, nothing ever changes. You never really leave work. I go home to the crew cabin, hang out, watch a movie, knit (I've started a killer aphgan) sleep, walk one hundred yards to the day lodge for work, work all day, start the cycle over again. I spend weeks at a time not moving more than 500 feet. The gigantic day illusion is also aided by the fact that it never REALLY gets dark. I mean, seriously. Yesterday, Mel and I went for a walk at 10:30 pm and it was as bright as it is at six o'clock in the evening at home. It's WEIRD. And then, after finally sort of but not really getting dark at like 1 am, the sun comes up again at about four in the morning. And we still have a month until the summer solstice! I feel like I have been here long enough to accurately evalutate the other inhabitors of The Rock. I have one thing to say. Mormons. Lots, and lots of Mormons. MARRIED Mormons. I know I told you this before, but I need to reiterate. But actually, they're good people. They range from at least tolerable, to actually pretty cool. Jesse is the manager. He's 24, has a very dry entertaining sense of humor, and is all in all a good guy and good manager. His wife Missy..well, in the words of Mel, she's not the brightest bulb in the box. I think that's a pretty accurate description. She's going to school to be a preschool teacher, and that makes SO MUCH SENSE. She has kind of high, squeaky voice and talks about cute things a lot. She's alright though. And such a GOSSIP..OOoo..the gossip on this island you wouldn't believe. When you don't really have anything else to do but talk about each other, you can imagine how quickly stuff gets around. Sam is the assistant manager, and he's okay too. Always in a good mood. A little gung ho about being assistant manager though, but whatever. His wife, Genevieve, she's also relatively cool and a hard worker. I say "relatively" because well, I'm sorry if this sounds harsh or narrow-minded, but exactly how cool CAN you be if you're 23, married, and Mormon? It is strange how much religion can define what kind of person you are, but it does. I just don't have that much to talk about with a bunch of newlyweds who don't drink, don't smoke, and don't swear.Anyway. Then there's David and Rachel, also married. Probably the coolest Mormons out of the bunch. With Rachel, I actually feel like I could be friends with her possibly in a different setting. And David's cool too, and he has an extensive DVD collection. Then there's Nate and Jessie, also married. They just came out to the island today though, so I'm not sure how acurately I can assess them. They seem pretty cool though, once again, relatively speaking.Okay, whew. That's it for the married Mormons. Then there's Dave, the maintenance guy. Better known as Weasel, due to his easily morphed last name, Wiesler. He's pretty nice, pretty funny, and pretty pretty to boot. There's something weird about him though. It's not that he keeps to himself or anything like that, but he's..well, he's just a hard nut to crack. Kind of like he's always playing an act or something like that. I'm sure I'll have more to say on the matter of the Weasel in later installments of the Alaska Chronicles.Then there's Merlin, the assistant chef. Merlin is from Philomath, Oregon. If any of you are familiar with rural Oregon, you will realize what this means. Meaning, he's a huge hick. Well, in some senses, but not in others. He's a hick in the fact that he grew up on a ranch running around in the woods reaking havok with his two older brothers, that he knows how to drive a tractor, that he chews tobacco, and that he has artificially enciminated a cow. But he's actually an okay guy. We have a pretty good rapport, though he likes to whine about stuff a lot. But when he does I just tell him to quit his belly aching and he eventually does.Then there's another single chick, Tina. Basically neutral about her. A little boring, not the best worker, but whatever. Then of course there is Mel, who I don't think I could survive without. And there's one more single chick moving out there soon, and, although not Mormon, I hear she's a total prude. And she was homeschooled. 'Nuff said.Which brings me, last but not least, to Brad. Oh, how can I describe Brad. I HATE BRAD WITH THE PASSION OF A THOUSAND STARS GONE SUPERNOVA. He is, by far, the most obnoxious, unpleasant jackass I have ever met in my whole life. Mel and I have exhausted our list of insults in order to come up with exactly the MOST apropo for this particular douche bag, and I think "Tool" really sums it up. Choad is also very effective. He is a gigantic, smarmy dickwad. He's the chef out on the island, and I am very worried. He actually made Rachel cry today. What makes him such a dildo? It's kind of hard to explain. He seems to be under the all too common misconception that he is The Shit. He strives, with every word he says, to try to make you feel as stupid as possible. He is fundamentally lewd, condascending, and rude. I hate him. I really, really hate him. I try not to let him get away with anything though. Every punkass comment out of his mouth I retort, every blatant inflamation of fact about himself he claims trying to make himself sound cool, I shoot down. He has met his match in Chloe Bowen, my friends. The battle of wits is on. Bring it.Anyway, big drama. Big drama with Brad. Everyone hates him and wants him gone. And he's been on the island for less than a week! Right now he has his own room down in the Wilderness Lodge, but I actually think that might be changing soon. You see, Jacob has decided to continue deck handing all summer instead of moving out to the island, which leaves each of the single males on the island with a room all to themselves, and all four of the single girls jammed into one room. This shall not stand! Tina, Mel, and I have been raising a royal stink. It's just plain fucking unfair. But I think it's going to change. I think what is going to happen is Nate and Jessie are going to move down to the Wilderness Lodge, which is cool because no married couple in our only remaining single refuge, but uncool because this MEANS that BRAD is going to MOVE IN WITH MERLIN and live in the CREW CABIN WITH US. As you can imagine, I am not pleased. Neither is anyone else. But, actually, I don't think it will make a lot of difference because Brad keeps coming over to the crew cabin to hang out at night anyway as it is. Which doesn't really make logical sense; if he reallly thought he was All That and So Much Better than All of Us, why would he keep coming around? Oh God how I hate this guy. He's so going down.

Everyone is so FAT here. It took me about 30 seconds at the Philadelphia airport to see a grossly obese fat woman standing next to me at the sink in the ladies' restroom.And the toilet paper is so SOFT here.The first thing I always notice when flying back into Seattle after being away for a while is the smell that hits you after you walk outside the airport. The air just smells so sweet. Maybe it's because it's the spring. That smell just reminds me of home, of summer, of great expectations, and adventures.Being back here is approximately equal parts normal and equal parts bizarre. Everything is strangely, strangely familiar and yet somehow completely surreal at the same time. I find myself slipping back into old routines so easily, but I continue to be surprised at actually understanding people when I hear them making idle conversation behind me in line at Value Village, or that I can so easily communicate the exact, complicated drink that I want to a bartender. I knew I was home for sure though when I turned on the radio in my car only to hear John Cougar-Mellencamp blaring through the radio. What says Americana more than a little ditty about Jack and Diane? I was a little worried about jumping behind the wheel again, but I guess driving is a lot like riding a bike. I didn't have a problem at all. I am finding myself spending more or less the same amount of time in transit as I did in Madrid, only here, instead of riding the stinky old metro with a bunch of weirdos and people trying to get me to pay them for squeezing an accordion in my face, I can ride in my little car and listen to some sweet ass tunes on my cd player. Still don't like the traffic though. Nor the fact that my mom lives half an hour away from absolutely anything interesting that could possibly be happening.When hanging out with my friends, I am trying to resist the urge to be That Girl who comes back from living abroad or someplace strange and does nothing but says, "In SPAIN, they bla bla bla..." It's hard though, it's hard. On Friday night I introduced my friends to the glory that is red wine and coke. I don't think they were especially impressed with it, but I don't think they disliked it either. Calimocho really only becomes an asset if you're drinking shitty wine, and the stuff we had was kind of okay. Anyway, that started the evening out right, but things quickly took a turn for the strange. We somehow ended up at the house party of one of my friend's friends, some chick I'd never met. Most of the people at the party were UW kids, which was strange for two major reasons. One, I was probably older than most of the people there. Two, when I say UW kids, what I really mean is, UW FRAT kids. Yes, my first night back in the US and where do I end up? A FRAT party. Or something strikingly resembling one.Get this. I was standing around, talking to the friends I had come with (there wasn't anyone else there worth talking to, really). I was shooting the shit, talking Spanish with my Cuban friend Nick. "Que jetipolla eres!" I would say. "No me jodas!" He would reply. Meanwhile my friend Meresa is there with us too, speaking Thai to no one in particular. We were having a real International Moment. When up hops this sorority girl, sporting a very short minifalda and a baby-tee. She bops over to Meresa and says, "HI! Is this the ITALIAN party?" Apparently her language skills weren't fine tuned enough to recognize the subtle differences between Italian and Thai...Anyway, we actually end up staying at the party for a really long time, until the only people that are left are us, and the loser frat boys who didn't manage to score a chick to take home to the sack. So eventually we leave, me and three of my girlfriends. "Aw, don't go!" they call after us, as they reach out their ever-groping octopus arms to try for one last squeeze. Rather pathetic, really. And rather funny too. I actually kind of enjoyed the party, in this really perverse sort of way.Last night was interesting as well. It started out with this really, REALLY awkward guy trying to hit on me in this bar. I was sitting in a booth with three of my friends and he like, basically came over, told me to scoot over, and sat himself right down and tried to join in the conversation, the attempt at which desperately, desperately failed. And then he ACTUALLY came back later again when we were playing pool to give it another go. Weird. But then my friends and I went to another bar. We were sitting, chatting, hanging out. I got a mojito, but it was totally gross. I was in the middle of a conversation with my friend Meresa, when I sense someone looking at me from outside the window. I look up, and it's none other than Agniesza Zoltowski, a girl I went to high school with, who I basically hadn't seen since then, and who I had been rather good friends with in years past. She was also with Bogdan Albu, another guy I went to high school with. It was so WEIRD. Especially since the conversation I had been having with Meresa was all about how hard it is to stay in contact with people, and how there were all these people who I wish I had stayed in better contact with, but well, you know how it goes... It's hard sometimes.But anyway, they came into the bar, and we talked for a while. Apparently Agnieszka just graduated from Whitman this year with a double major in Art History and French Lit, and has recently moved back in with her parents to try to find a job. Bogdan graduated from Duke last year with a major in Economics and is currently living as a ski bum in Jackson Hole Wyoming. Who'd a thought? It was good to talk to them though, and I got their emails. Who knows, maybe we'll meet up again some day. I did feel kind of cool saying, "Yea...so I just got back from SPAIN on Thursday...I'll be heading up to ALASKA for the summer on SUNday..." Does that make me a bad person? Naw, I think it's only natural.It is very strange to circle the globe and then come back and see the same people doing the same things and acting the same way and going to the same places and hanging out with the same people. Like...I feel like I went off and did so much stuff and met so many new and interesting people and I come back and I'm like, What's WRONG with you guys? Get up and do something! Which is of course completely wrong. Not everyone wants to move around all the time. And besides, I'm sure everyone else was living completely full and interesting lives just the same as me. I'm sure they're not really the same people as when I left, just like I'm not the same.But it is strange though. You can never quite go back. It's like the old Buddhist adage, that you can never step into the same stream twice. It won't be the same and neither will you. The water is passing by, the river's constantly changing, just like you are. Well, I think it's a Buddhist adage anyway. Whatever.Why do I keep traveling anyway? What am I looking for? Is it so I can leave and then come back and have people tell me how much they miss me? Have them hug me and kiss me and act so excited? Maybe that's part of it. But not all. Spain really does feel like some sort of dream. Like it could've easily never have happened. I find myself touching the walls sometimes to make sure they're actually there. Maybe NOW is when I'm dreaming and I'll wake back up soon on good old San Bernardo. Who knows. Maybe it's like the Buddhist monk with the dream about butterflies. What IS it with me and the Buddhists today. But I feel like just as soon as I start to get remotely comfortable here I'm going to be off again to Alaska, to a completely different stream with a completely different rythm. But I'm ready for it, I'm excited for it. Truth is, I feel like I'm getting too comfortable here, too fast...So many khaki cargo pants...so may flip flops. So many Ford Explorer Eddie Bauer additions. Everyone is so white bread! The thing that's nice about Western Washington is that on a clear day, when you look out, in every direction you can see mountains.