the decline of the english language

So I don't think it comes as any surprise that I enjoy writing. I do. I enjoyed writing the slew of application essays for college and grad school... and I think I even wrote a few extra just for kicks. However, I have long lived under the impression that making any sort of living as a writer would be beyond my capabilities. Hell, I may write decently well, but there are people out there who weave together verbs and adjectives in ways that stomp mine out like a cigarette butt in the pavement.

At the current moment, I am in fact making a living writing (well, I guess it depends on one's concept of "making a living"). I spend my 40 hours a week writing Spanish city guides, content for the company's four million websites, monthly newsletters, etc. Overall, I enjoy it. What throws you off, however, is when people who write like SHIT are being paid the same as you. You, meanwhile, will spend a half-hour reworking a sentence and racking your brain for witty expressions so that the text is at least vaguely interesting for the reader. What angers you is when not only do they write like a mentally challenged elementary school child, but you have to go through 100 pages of their text rearranging sentence structures and correcting their interpretation of basic grammar and spelling.

We currently have a freelance writer who writes some of the less important city guides. She claims to be British and a native English-speaker. Yes, England... the birthplace of the English language. My take is that she's about as British as the Dell customer service operators who claim to be Americans named Tom and Barbara, even though their unintelligible English gives away the fact that they've never traveled outside of India.

While this girl uses ultra-British and therefore inherently heinous expressions like, "If you have a hankering for..." which I promptly delete and replace, her comprehension of basic grammar and writing tactics that we learn before we hit puberty is deplorable. I have told my boss more than once that this "Anna" is either lazy, on drugs or just plain stupid. He has yet to act accordingly... in fact, he's rather pleased with her. Apparently the French know more about the English language that an English-speaker. Therefore, I continue to roll my eyes, grit my teeth and correct all of her guides.

While I was, for awhile, depressed at the fact that she probably gets paid about what I do, I have recently come to the following conclusion. Basically, if this girl can get continuously paid to write 100 page city guides, hell I could easily get paid to write entire novels. I'm not saying that I'd necessarily get a lucrative two-novel deal from Random House. However, I'd bet that my literary masterpieces could at least be sold at supermarket check-out lines with other $2.99 novels, right there amongst the book covers with long-haired and open-shirted Fabio-esque studs riding on white stallions, their tanned pecks grasped from behind by their recently-rescued, flowing-haired, untied-bodice-wearing lovers.

I may be coming across as overly self-righteous and haughty. Worry not! I have tangible proof. To be able to laugh about it - and to break up the hours of boredom and desperation - I began keeping track of some of Anna's treasures. Riveting text, really. My personal favorites are numbers 7, 8, 11, 12, 13, 18, and 21

1. San Sebastian just loves their festivals and parade, which provides a veritable calendar of exciting events – the Film Festival, Jazz Festival, Tinkers Parade, La Tamborrada are just among San Sebastian’s highly enjoyable events.
2. The portico is in the Renaissance style while a tower that in the baroque style was added in 1777.
3. How does San Sebastian's music scene look like?
   
4. Zona Romantica – ah, the district for romance! Located in the junction of Calle Larramendi and Calle Reyes Catolicos, this district is where you will find a great place to take your date – from great music pubs to chic cafes. What’s more, the cooking here is first-rate.
   
5. Get to know San Sebastian a little deeper as you look into its different district, culture and tourism.
6. This was chosen as the political capital of the Basque country, just recently (1980s).
   
7. It is one great way to taste all that Cadiz has to offer – and not end up losing your budget (not to mention your belly!). Tapas can be composed of virtually anything – the food mentioned above, plus cheese and locally produced ham.
8. Hmmmm – mmmm!
9. In fact, shopkeepers close down for a few hours as they enjoy this meal at home, after the meal, they cozy down to get some siesta (midafternoon nap).
10. It used to consist of a number of layers of walls, currently however, only one wall remains standing.
    
11. Made in pink brink has Mudejar style arches. (yes, that's a full sentence)
12. What's there to buy in Cadiz? Plenty, that's what.
13. And a-one, two, three, four... Move your body!
14. These includes egrets, vultures, ducks, doves, falcons, herons, flamingos, geese and many others.
15. The park also houses a learge population of mountain goats, deer, mountain ox and stag. These, as the rest of the animals are protected by law.
16. The fauna is just as varied – the wide umbrella pine forest gives excellent shelter to palmettos, blackthorns, junipers and rosemary.
    
17. Whether you want to go on a wine-tasting binge in Jerez and the "Sherry Triangle", or visit beautiful Seville or the White Villages.
18. Jerez de la Frontera is synonymous to the word sherry. In fact, that is what Jerez is. Jerez actually means Sherry.
19. For more inquiries about a trip to Jerez de la Frontera, visit the Jerez Tourism Information Office at Edificio Los Claustros).
    
20. the Fine Arts Museum (which has the second largest collect of pictures in Spain)
21. Culturally, Sevilla offers the best of Andalusia – flamenco and bullfighting. But that is not all that Sevilla has to offer – its people (the Sevillanos) are jolly, warm and fun-loving. Because of the people vibrant personality (throw in a bit of wit and charm), Sevilla sparkles in the minds of tourists because of its vitality.
    
22. This is especially seen during the Feria de Abril. This is when Sevilla especially bursts in brilliant color and sound.
23. Construction of the church was began by the master builder Alonso Rodriguez
24. To make the most of your excursion to Gibraltar, visit the Gibraltar Tourist Office, at the Duke of Kent House, Cathedral Square
25. Nestled between the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean, Gibraltar is quite small, only 5.8 square kilometers, but it is a complete community – with all the necessary amenities.
    
26. These are called the White Villages because the of the white-washed houses, castles and churches do make an enchanting sight, against the backdrop of green and brown countryside.
    
27. Reaching Cadiz by Car is an experience in itself – you get to see the countryside and stop whenever you want or feel like it. Take your time, explore the villages you pass along the way.
28. If you are staying in a hotel with a parking garage, you can make use of this facility, which charges around €9 to €14 a day.

Madrid!

The New York Times knows what's up...

Damn straight, biatches!

50 "who the hell cares!" B.Matt Trivia Tid-Bits

1. In pre-school I ate paste because it smelled minty. I ended up being sent home from school with a sore throat.

2. I am an introvert par excellence.

3. My sister, at the ripe old age of 8, proclaimed me in one of her "angry letters" to be "Miss Sarcastic of the Year." Where's my sash?

4. I spent a year - 8th grade - looking like a lumberjack. A male lumberjack, that is.

5. I went to college as an English major and graduated as a Spanish major.

6. My first boyfriend was Chris Pressler in the third AND fourth grades. It was an elementary school love match like no other. I got him a race car calendar for Christmas. Vroooom.

7. The words panty, wound and fester make me cringe.

8. I was good at sports growing up... except basketball, at which I was quite terrible. There are plenty of basketball anecdotes which I will not go into. We'll leave it at that I got more than a couple of confused looks from referees.

9. I'll never be too old to sip from juiceboxes... even though I have to drink 2 at a time to quench my AM OJ-craving.

10. I think that the French language sounds like spoken vomit... but I am thinking about learning it anyway.

11. My mom is a surprisingly talented beer pong player... even when she insists on playing with flavored wine coolers. Moms are cute like that.

12. Stephanie Casey and I used to have sleepovers to write - and illustrate - marvelous stories together.

13. I have a lot of strange and borderline OCD habits that nobody has known about until riiiiight now. Examples:
A) If I accidentally kick my left ankle with my right foot while walking, I repeat it the other way around to even things out... even though it hurts.
B) When in the car, I lightly squeeze a muscle or tap a toe inside my shoe everytime a light pole is passed. I have done this for as long as I can remember.
C) I constantly imagine ridiculous scenarios... such as if I were threatened with death unless I could remember how to play a certain piano song from memory, would I be able to?

14. I think too much and talk too little.

15. I grew up wanting to be a pilot. I took flying lessons and loved it... yet eventually turned down the acceptance into flight school.

16. I once pulled my brother's arm out of its socket because he wouldn't help clean up the Hungry Hippos game. Poor li'l tyke.

17. My parents named me Elizabeth even though they 100% planned on calling me Betsey. Why not just name me Betsey? Family mystery!

18. Driving a standard car is way more fun than driving an automatic. I don't think I'll ever be able to go back.

19. I sometimes worry about the fact that I don't worry about my lack of professional ambition.

20 I am deathly afraid of knives, paper cuts in the eye, doctors, being judged, driving off a bridge into water while sitting in the back seat of a two-door car, and birds (the ones that walk, not so much the little hopping ones). Luckily I have, since my childhood, overcome my fears of actually looking like a girl.

21. My favorite childhood activity was playing football with the neighborhood boys. I would pounce on Mike Walker's back trying to tackle him.

22. My dad knows me too well. I am essentially the younger, female, and non-Republican version of him :o)

23. As a child, my little sister used to eat dog food. For some reason I think I also recall her munching on newspaper once or twice. Good times at the Mattern household.

24. I am allergic to cats. It took going to Florida and staying with a friend's aunt to figure it out... she had 8 furry felines. I considered going to the hospital to see if I was dying from pneumonia.

25. I worry too much and take things too personally.

26. At Cliff Orvedal's Halloween party, I accidentally swallowed 2 feet of fake hair when a clump of my witch wig stuck to my cupcake frosting in the very last pre-bite moment. Mrs. Orvedal had to yank it out. I have had an aversion towards spaghetti noodles ever since.

27. My favorite movie of all time is and always will be the Little Mermaid. I can't help it... it's beyond my control. We got no troubles, life is the bubbles!

28. I was the ONLY student in my high school Culinary Arts class who did not receive an A+. I attribute this to one or both of the following reasons: A) possibly because I added 3 tablespoons of pepper instead of 3 teaspoons to my final project, resulting in a rather piquant New England clam chowder, or B) possibly because the teacher was my basketball coach. See #8.

29. I now get carsick due to my lack of car travel in Spain. On the way to JFK airport after Christmas my dad had to pull over so I could switch into the front seat.

30. My sister and I hated each other until I was 18 and she was 15, and my brother and I engaged in physical fights until I was in college.

31. I don't particularly like boats. I was on one when it caught fire.

32. I really want to go skydiving.

33. I despise the following instant messenger tendencies

• IM lingo (LOL, LMAO, TTYL, etc., etc.).
• when people put the humping hearts, i.e. <333,>
• when, again in their profiles, people randomly AND OBSESSIVELY change their fonts FOR NO APPARENT r.E.a.S.o.N.
  

34. I have never sucked an entire lollipop. I bite them as soon as my teeth will let me.

35. I am physically incapable of burping. Mark always said that he was going to feed me Alca-Seltzer pills to see if I'd explode. Apparently that's what happens to seagulls.

36. My first memory is going with my dad to buy a swingset. I was two and remember thinking it was the longest ride ever. I later found out it was a whopping 45 minutes, if that.

37. My favorite number to write is 4, and my favorite letter to write is a lowercase cursive z. I do a mental fist pump each time I get to the z while signing my name.

38. I can't watch surfing because those waves scare the begeezus out of me.

39. Scary movies really do give me nightmares.

40. I can entertain myself for a remarkably long time with a wad of bubble-wrap. My mom gets mad at me for popping all the bubble-wrap that protects our Christmas ornaments.

41. I love aquariums and zoos. There's just something about poo-flinging monkeys and dolphins jumping through hula-hoops that I can't get enough of.

42. I believe both in ghosts and in extraterrestrial life. E.T. WHADDUPPP

43. I am cluttered and mildly scatterbrained by nature. When things are organized I can't ever find anything I'm looking for.

44. I like art.

45. I abhor deep political or philosophical discussions, as the people who want to have them are generally pretentious and love to hear themselves talk.

46. My college roommate and I once went on the South Beach Diet. After a week and a half we threw the idea out and celebrated with a Costco-sized bag of Doritos. It was glorious.

47. I love Muppets marathons, especially the Swedish Chef skits. Bork! Bork! Bork!

48. I'm strangely glad my parents got divorced. I can't imagine my life without the additional family members that came out of it. Plus, two Thanksgiving food comas and two Christmases! I kid, I kid..

49. I dislike uncomfortable shoes, popped collars, small talk, bad grammar, decisions, and loud/open-mouthed chewers

50. I like banana bread, dirty jokes, socks, seeing new places, writing, celebrity gossip, going out for breakfast, cheesy pick-up lines, being immature, and opening brand-new tennis ball cannisters.

being pensive

When I set off to study abroad in Sevilla three years ago, I decided to really buckle down and make a conscious decision to start a journal... and to not succumb to my characteristic laziness. Surprisingly enough, I actually managed to write in it at least once a week... and I'm glad I did. I like to sit down and relive almost getting stranded on a Greek island, spending my first 4 days in Spain with no luggage (it was sitting on a trolley in an airplane hangar at the La Coruña Airport), fending off Spanish suitors and a slew of random and documented communicative issues, such as telling my Spanish mom that there was no more soup in the shower (oh come on now, which one looks more like the word for soap: sopa or jabón?)

Last year, when it came time for round two in Spain - this time in Madrid - I hopped on the technology train and decided to replace pen and paper with a blog. In its conception, good ole Bepsi Cola was meant to serve as a journal-esque type of chronicle which would allow my friends and family to keep abreast of the happenings in the life of the international superstar that I am... and also to quelch any worries that I may have fallen in with the wrong crowd and - to feed my crack habit - was making a living turning tricks on the corner.

However, the whole "journal" idea lasted approximately 2.2 seconds. Why? Because living in Spain for the second time was never really about brand-new, ground-breaking experiences. The first year was all about visiting Europe for the first time, seeing my first "real" cathedral, grimacing at my first bullfight, experiencing my first European soccer game, trying new food (never one of my fortes in the past... when I was 14 it took my dad 40 minutes to get me to taste manicotti), living far from home, integrating into a family of strangers... not to mention the whole language thing.

The second - and now the third- year in Spain has pretty much morphed into a life of the typical day-to-day "stuff" that I knew in the US. Everything that makes life what it is - inside jokes, workplace grumblings, relationships, friendships, bad moods, favorite restaurants, playing sports, grocery shopping - is the same, it's all simply transcurring on a different geographical pinpoint on the globe.

My "new" experiences are things that, frankly, excite only me and aren't necessarily worth of describing it for friends and family: discovering a new favorite candy (the red ones with the white stuff inside) or yogurt (Vitalínea, peach-flavored), following work-out vernacular at the gym's spinning class, or finding out the Spanish equivalent of something completely random and not academic (a "butter face" in English, i.e. a girl who is hot and attractive everywhere but-her-face, is apparently called a "shrimp" in Spanish, because you eat everything but the head).

Somewhere along the way, Spain stopped being a visit. Instead, it's just turned into finding a niche for myself in which I can thrive, be comfortable, be happy and see that happiness enduring. There is no ultimatum in the foreseeable future at which it will all end... no bought plane ticket with a set date and time printed on it... no "next semester" to get back for. I can do whatever the hell I want, and that is - for lack of a more eloquent expression - pretty damn rad.

randomness

Today I left for work for the second day in a row without a jacket... and I left the gym this evening in my shorts. It was glorious. Hoping that this trend continues, I am almost ready to bid the seasonal adieu to coats, sweaters, winter blues, hot chocolate and being a hermit. So here's a little ode to spring and everything I like about it.

Blah blah blah the whole rejuvenation of nature spiel... flowers blooming, trees budding, birdies chirping and the rest of the accompanying cliché classics.

Visitors! Friends, sisters, BernBerns and cousins have sangria-induced Spanish shenanigans pencilled into their calendars.

Sidewalk cafés! In an age when international fast food chains are trying to gobble up the "cute café" culture anywhere they can, Spain's little outdoor cafés and bars comprise what is - without a doubt - one of its best assets. In fact, I put it on the totally unbiased "Spain Top 10" in my Spain guide (What Spain for all 2 of you who are interested)

Walks! As enjoyable as speed walking through the streets hoping that, in the process, the friction between your various out-of-shape body parts will stir up some additional body heat, strolling leisurely about in nice weather is always a more pleasant alternative for all involved.

Spring ahead! The sacrificed hour of sleep is every bit worth the additional daylight hours during which one might enjoy the aforementioned sidewalk cafés and leisurely strolls.

Lunch! Gone will be the days of eating at my desk. Facebook stalking and catching up on my celebrity gossip blogs will have to wait for the post-work hours, as they are soon to be replaced with dining al fresco- i.e. saran-wrapped sandwich from home on a park bench.

Ice cream! Last week, two coworkers and I played hooky for 15 minutes to partake in the inaugural "first ice cream of the season." We also raised up our plastic spoons and merrily toasted to many more to come... or at least I did.

Open windows! In houses, in cars... everywhere! The breezes are light, the air is fresh and, providing those pesky allergies aren't attacking like merciless kamikazes, there's nothing that says "spring time" quite like your arm hanging out a rolled down window.

give me presents!!!

Despite my overall indifference towards the day's "hip" fashion trends (leggings under skirts, boots over skinny jeans, anything that isn't the timeless combination of jeans and solid-colored cotton shirts...), I do enjoy perusing the pages of a fashion magazine from time to time. However, due to the lack of a pre-paid, home-delivery subscription, I am faced each month with the oh-so-daunting task of choosing but one glossy cover of the bunch.

Cosmo, In Style, Vogue, Glamour... the options are unlimited. Yet when it comes down to it, all "girl" magazines are just carbon copies of each other in that they essentially boil down to the following key elements:

• How to tone your (insert flabby body part) in just 6 days
  
  
• Cheesy monthly horoscopes, complete with lucky days your best astrological love match of the month
  

• How to make him (insert beg for more, commit, horny, say I love you, leave you the hell alone, etc.)
  
  
• (Insert number) easy do-it-yourself hair styles
  

• Fashion must-haves for (insert season and year) for (insert number) dollars or less

• Edgy photo shoot and accompanying interview with (insert celebrity) on family, finding inner peace, losing that pesky post-pregnancy weight and her budding relationship with (insert male celebrity/soon to be 4th husband/future 4th ex-husband)

With such a predictable formula, how, how, how can an indecisive gal like myself choose amongst the array of identical publications? The common go-to routine is to thumb through the whole magazine to see if it's got anything good; however, by the end you realize that you've seen the whole thing and buying the magazine would therefore be a complete waste of a perfectly good four bucks. You put the magazine back on the shelf, avoid the glaring eyes of the cashier and walk back out the door. Nobody wins.

Incentives, folks. I need incentives. I am indecisive but I have a lonely five dollar bill in my pocket. Sway me. Entice me. Seduce me.

It would seem that the current brains behind today's Spanish marketing campaigns studied together, having come to the collective - albeit obvious - conclusion that the most effective way to lure a customer is by appealing to their affinity for tangible goodies. So while the idea of "incentives" was made quite clear during their years of study, you can tell which former marketing students were the stars of their class (buy a newspaper, get a classic Muzzy video) and which ones barely passed (buy a tub of butter, get an English dictionary).

As for magazines, I would bet money that the real ace marketing students can now be found as campaign managers in fashion magazines. Why? Because instead of looking at magazine covers or giving them the ole thumb-through, I am easily sold to whoever is giving me the best free gift. And it's not a "send away for a free gift" or "log on to our website and enter this code and enter in the drawing for a free gift and maybe you'll win in six to eight weeks." No, no, no.

I'm talking gift-in-hand when I walk out the door. I've seen sandals, pj pants, t-shirts, scarves, beach cover ups, jewelry... fashion magazines totally put effort into their gift-giving. InStyle, the king pin of purses and bags, has proven to be a Betsey front-runner, and I have absolutely no problem admitting that my favorite bathing suit is a one-size-fits-all that came free last summer with an issue of Vogue.

Keep 'em coming!

blub-blub

Madrid Photo of the Day. Enjoy.


... because nothing says come dine at our restaurant like a giant fish puking up equally an equally giant crustacean.

Potsdam at the ATM

Now we have all - and by "all" I mean all of us who have studied abroad during their undergraduate college career - had those "I just don't understand why" days where the ATM sticks out its tongue and flicks you off when you go to withdraw your meager funds. Those days that leave you lamenting the fact that ATM's only shoot out 20's and 50's instead of 10's, thus deaming the remaining $19.02 (oooh so close!) in your account utterly useless and unattainable. Those days where you have to break down and beg your parents for a bit of funding. And while those days are not fun, we can all relate... or at least find it in our hearts to sympathize.

However. There is an unfortunate character that often pops up at the ATM, generally just when you happen to be in a hurry. The ATM negotiator.

You know you're dealing with an ATM negotiator when, as you stand behind them feigning patience, they constantly look from side to side as to ensure that nobody is lurking in the shadows. Why? Because they are about to head into some lengthy negotiations surpassed only by those of the Potsdam Conference.

You continue to stand behind them, restlessly shifting your weight from foot to foot, squinting impatiently at the back of their heads and contemplating leaving your withdrawal - and that bag of chips you had your hopes up for - for a later time.

They see you standing there, but now along with another 4 people that have lined behind you- all of us tapping our feet with exponentially increasing anxiety. Yet, the negotiator sees it as the most opportune time to carry out as many operations at the ATM as humanly possible... putting money on their phone, checking their bank statement, questioning their bank statement, checking their bank statement again, cancelling the transaction, putting card back in for a new transaction, scratching their head... and then comes the eventual debacle of actually withdrawing funds.

As you watch the negotiations transpire you can almost go so far as to create a dialogue. Or, you're borderline insane like me and you DO create a dialogue...


"Hmm I REALLY want a pair of those black leather dominatrix boots that everyone's wearing on top of their jeans these days. They'd go great with my whip and black leather corset. Hot, hot, hot. Let's take out 100."
...... Machine spits the card out. Machine: 1, Negotiator: 0
"No? 100's no good? Ok how about 80?"
...... Machine spits the card out. Machine: 2, Negotiator: 0
"No? Dang. Well, I guess I could settle with 40."
..... Machine spits the card out. Yawns and looks at its watch. Machine: 3, Negotiator: 0
"(Now with attitude) No? Not 40? Well if you don't give me 20 I'ma gonna cut you and ain't nobody gonna help you!"
...... Machine contemplates the idea. Wavers. Is persuaded. Admits defeat.
"Aha!! Yeah that's what I thought... cough it up biaaaatch." (Insert cash grab, fist pump and victory dance)


...All this for a lousy bag of chips...

deep thoughts on... lettuce

Lettuce is not meant to fly solo.

As I am increasingly anxious for the arrival of sunny spring afternoons and as yesterday's lunchtime temperature was a delightful 63 degrees, a coworker and I ventured to a nearby plaza to dine in style side-by-side on a bench. Despite the abundance of evil pigeons (insert fearful shudder), things were looking up. That is, until I sat down and removed the tupperware lid of my salad, at which time I realized I forgot my salad dressing back in the office refrigerator. Hungry, not wanting to make a scene and much too lazy to walk back, I started in on my dressingless lettuce and tomatoes. It was neither enjoyable nor satisfying.

So let's put this into metaphorical terms: aviation. Lettuce atop a tuna sandwich? Smooth sailing. In a colorful salad topped with dressing? No turbulance here. As a garnish? You are free to move about the cabin. But lettuce flying solo is essentially the culinary equivalent of a flight student sans his seasoned instructor who clearly knows better. Would you want to be a passenger on that flight? I certainly wouldn't!

So to all of you people on the lick-the-lettuce diet, I am totally and unabashedly judging you. To you anorexia-proned individuals who insist with an exaggerated smile that "oh my God I just LOVE the taste of dry lettuce... salad dressing just detracts from the earthy taste of nature" or whatever crap you've brainwashed yourself into believing, I can only say "LIAR!" What do you think you are- a rabbit? Hell, your idea of fine dining is probably grabbing a handful of freshly-raked leaves from the pile in your back yard, maybe even following up the main dish with a good gnaw on a bamboo chute, a la panda bear. De-lic-ious.

So enjoy your bowl of dry leaves and your "favorite" afternoon snack of ice cubes. I'll be lathering my lettuce in this delightful vinaigrette and looking forward to my afternoon snack- my daily chocolate supplement.