Assimilation

Greetings!

I'm thrilled to be sitting here and writing my blog because I'm honestly surprised that I survived the early part of this week. This is my first week with my full school, volleyball, and life schedules all in high gear and with the way that it is set up, Monday and Tuesday are a little on the insane side. I finally figured out my class schedule which was extremely relieving because I am the type of person who becomes easily flustered, especially when my schedule is up in the air. I was hoping to stack all of my classes into 3 out of 5 school days to minimize the number of days that I had to commute into Brussels, but the way that it worked out I actually have ALL of my classes and seminars (smaller discussion groups) scheduled for Monday and Tuesday. Now that may not sound too horrible, but when you add in a commute and my volleyball schedule (practices on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday and a match on the weekend) then things get a little more complicated.

Monday is by far the worse day of the two (naturally, because being a shitty day is part of Monday's job description) and involves me getting up at 6 so that I can make it into Brussels for a full class schedule that lasts from 9 am until 8 pm... that's just rude. However, I do believe that will get a bit easier now that I've discovered that I can skip my last class of the day and still stay up to date because the lecture notes are posted online. Should I feel guilty about that? Maybe, but I don't because the class is a course on how to properly do research for your dissertation, and there is a seminar which is far more important to attend. I mean, I love school, but 9 am to 8 pm is a little over the top and I like to think that I'm doing my professors a favor by missing a few lectures here and there as opposed to the only other option, which would be for me to show up to lecture drunk. So, you're welcome. Even if I do miss an occasional class I still have to get home on the train so that I can make it to weight lifting and volleyball practice on both Mon and Tues from 7-10. Yikes. But I think I've concluded that I'm happy to have two extremely challenging days and perhaps suffer from time to time, so that I can have the other 5 days of the week to focus on practice, volleyball matches, basketball games, occasional fun... oh, and of course the hundreds of pages of reading that I have for each class every week! Party. 

 I really can't complain though because in all honesty I'm loving class to the point that I even get excited about note taking. I know, it's gross. Ask me how I feel about that in a month or two when I'm drowning in research papers and we'll see if I feel the same way. HA! I really do love being busy, and I think that things will get a bit easier in a week or so when the post knee surgery cripple I live with is more mobile, and my body gets used to having less sleep, more physical exertion, and a regularly stimulated brain! All of these things really make me feel even more at home in Europe. In fact as I was sprinting to catch a train connection the other day, I couldn't help but think to myself that it was a sign that I had started to really fit into this Belgian lifestyle. You really haven't experienced European life until you've had to haul ass to catch your train only to have the door shut in your face, or until you've had to take four different trains to make up for the one that was canceled for no apparent reason (not that both of those things happened to me this week or anything...).

As I was driving to the grocery store the other day I realized that FINALLY being able to drive stick-shift also made me feel like I was really starting to assimilate here. Something about being able to drive myself around and go about my daily life with such ease made me feel like I was no longer just a visitor here. I'm a resident. The majority of the time I just blend in with all of the other Belgians living here, unless of course I open my mouth and/or wear sweat pants to the grocery store... and then of course there is the fact that the car that I drive is covered in ridiculous basketball sponsorship stickers that make it pretty obvious that I'm American. But generally speaking I don't stand out in any way. As far as most people are concerned I'm just another person waiting at the train station to commute into Brussels like the thousands of other people that do that every day. I'm just like anyone else getting bread at the bakery, filling up my car with gas, or stocking up on mini kegs...

There is however, one particular time in which the true American that I am cannot be suppressed. I might have a shopping problem. Now, when you're talking about women with shopping problems it usually implies that they like to buy shoes, clothes, and purses... but that isn't where my problem lies. I have a grocery shopping problem. Having the use of a car is what brought this to my attention because it is the ultimate facilitator. When I had to walk to get groceries I could obviously only buy what I could carry, but a car on the other hand leaves you with unlimited options for how much crap you can haul home. That's dangerous to say the least. Yesterday I had to admit to myself that I had a slight problem after announcing that I needed just a few things like vegetables and fruit, and came home with three giant bags spilling over with food. There is a store in Aalst called Colruyt, and I blame them for my problem because it tricks me into thinking that maybe, just maybe, I'm in a Costco or a Sam's Club. I walk in there and seeing as though I'm an American, I feel obligated to shop like it is going out of style. Suddenly I'm buying things as though I'm stocking my bomb shelter for the approaching apocalypse. As with any healthy shopaholic, I have a justification for every ridiculous thing that I buy. Of course I need six bottles of wine in case we have guests over; naturally I should have an 30 pack of frozen Belgian waffles in case Damon might crave one (everyday for a month); I should be prepared and buy 20 cans of tomato sauce in case there's an earthquake; maybe I'll buy some dog food in the off chance that I one day become a dog owner, and clearly I'm obligated to buy this artichoke because it is on sale. You get the drift. Most of the other people in the store are buying things in large amounts to stock their restaurant or business, and I can't even argue that I'm shopping to feed an entire family. There are two people living in this house. I repeat, TWO. Get ahold of yourself, Alanna.


I guess you can take the girl out of America, but you can't take America out of the girl.

Now I'm off to binge eat so that none of my groceries go to waste. Until next time...

Disorganized Chaos

This past week has been interesting to say the least. In fact I think that I might be in a slight madness-induced coma despite the fact that my eyes are open. It is also possible that my comatose state has something to do with the three consecutive hours of Food Network that I've been watching. I am currently writing about one sentence per half-hour while considering the possibility that Paula Dean might have stolen my idea of hosting a cooking show for drunks even though she doesn't actually ever admit that she is boozed up during the broadcast. Apparently the ship has already sailed on that plan even though I'm convinced that here in Aalst I would have a great target audience for such a show, but I digress...

Now, where do I begin?

The week has been filled with a wide range of interesting occurrences, some of which were exciting and others that I could have gone without. I suppose I'll begin with the unwelcome events so that we can get all of that shit out of the way (pardon my French, but I'm not obligated to practice since I'm commuting into Brussels for grad school). I will actually reach back a few weeks for this next thrilling story. It all began when Damon went to France for a few games with his team and was knocked out after a collision during his game. The symptoms of a minor concussion were not too much to worry about until the following day when he began having nose bleeds. Clearly the only rational thing to do is to panic because every concussion results in brain damage, paralysis, hemorrhaging, pancreatic cancer, malaria, polio, and blindness. No... seriously. Check WebMD. However, he was one of the lucky ones and the brain scan that I forced him to get was clear. Little did we know, this would be the least of our worries for the week.

Last weekend the Okapi team had games on both Friday and Saturday. I'm going to go ahead and add that these were the 4th and 5th games that they had played within a week and a half, which might seem like a difficult schedule for a human body to survive. You're probably thinking to yourself, 'gee, how can anyone stay healthy when they are practicing twice a day for 10 months with games every weekend?!'  Fascinating question. You'd be right in assuming that it is a struggle at times; exhibit A: Damon Huffman. Unfortunately Damon injured his knee in his game against Amsterdam on Saturday. After various scans it was discovered that he had torn the ligaments that hold his Patella in place and so on Tuesday he went in for knee surgery to repair the damage. The doctor said it would take about three months before he could start playing again.

I could sit and bitch about how much that diagnosis sucks, but I think I'd rather look on the bright side. As far as knees go, three months isn't all that bad. ACL injuries can take an extremely long time to come back from, and there are plenty of other injuries that can be career-ending for a professional athlete. Obviously when your livelihood is dependent on your body and your physical health, an injury can be a scary thing. Like in any profession, you are paid to produce, and if you can no longer do that then you are replaced. If you can play into your thirties then for the most part you are in the minority for a basketball player and your career is considered to have been a fairly long one. An injury brings a variety of worries for an athlete. Although contracts include injury insurance, it is possible that a team will choose to buy out your contract and bring in someone else to play. For example Trevor's team (Damon's brother for those of you that don't know) went through something like 14-16 players and a coach all in one season. They are expendable commodities and often times there isn't much loyalty between team management and players. Another concern is that an injury can become part of your reputation, and it is something that teams take into consideration before pursuing a contract with you. A history of injury can be a major deal breaker. While professional European basketball can be extremely lucrative, it is certainly not the NBA and these players are not set for life after playing for a few seasons. That being said, Damon is very lucky that his injury is something that can be fixed with surgery and that he has a live in babysitter (me). It is also nice to be playing in a  place like Aalst where good relationships can be formed between the club and the players. It is early in the season which leaves plenty of time to heal and then return to the court with more than half of the season and playoffs left!

Ok. Blah blah blah. I've surely bored you to death with the inner workings of European basketball. The real point is that now I have the equivalent of an immobile, giant child in my house who for the time being can hardly move off the temporary bed that is set up in the middle of our living room (I may be exaggerating slightly). Clearly this location is important because then he can have easy access to video games, food, sleeping accommodations, and television without moving. So let's be honest here, the only real issue with this entire situation will be trying to ensure that he doesn't spend 3 months straight murdering his brain cells by playing video games... annnnnd also that our living room doesn't look like it is straight out of an episode of Hoarders.

Now I suppose I should move on to the more positive and exciting things that are happening in life right now. Last week was my first week of orientation for my Masters program, and this week is the first week of classes! It is all very exciting and overwhelming at the same time. It has been more than two years so I was last in school and so it is certainly going to be an adjustment. It takes me anywhere from 50 minutes to an hour and ten minutes to get to the campus in Brussels by train (Aalst is only about a 20-25 minute drive from Brussels, but the trains make many stops along the way so it takes more time). I have spent the early part of this week sitting in on various classes and trying to decide which courses will be part of my schedule for this term. It has been a little bit of a struggle because I have to take some constraints into consideration that most of the other students don't have. The majority of the students live in Brussels near the campus, so they don't have to take train schedules and commuting time into consideration. I also have volleyball at least 4 days a week which means that I have to be home from school in time to get in the car and drive in the opposite direction to Gent. Hopefully I'll have my final schedule set within the next few days and then I can stop being an insane stress case.

Orientation week was exciting because it was my first chance to meet my classmates and professors. Seeing as this is a European University, orientation clearly had to include an excess of booze. I mean what better way to get to know a group of strangers than to get them drunk off of unlimited, free wine and let them over-share and blurt everything about themselves in a matter of hours?! I've met people in my program from all over the world; Greece, France, Ireland, Germany, Costa Rica, Colombia, The Czech Republic, Kansas, and even another girl from Washington State! I've discovered that Grad school is an interesting place; an entirely different beast than the Undergrad experience. It is awesome to meet other people that are equally as nerdy as I am and that are just as excited to continue learning. You also meet people that want to spend their time telling you how smart they are, which is always entertaining. I've already had someone tell me that from their experience they can see that Americans are dumb, I've learned that someone was up for an orgy after they announced it to the entire bar, and I've learned that one classmate is far more knowledgeable in the field that they majored in than anyone else in our Masters program (which I think MUST be obvious considering they've earned an undergraduate degree which is a feat that hardly anyone else in the world has achieved...). Grad students are fascinating. I love them. I hope that they'll find me at least slightly interesting too and that I'll be able to make some friends so that I'm not the weird kid that gets picked on during recess.

In other news, my volleyball team played our first official league match on Saturday. After nearly 2 months worth of preseason training, conditioning, and practice scrimmages (or 'friendly matches' as they call them here), this was a very welcome and exciting change. I am positive that the average age on our team makes us the youngest team in the first division, and also most likely the smallest, height-wise. But we won our first match in three sets, and played extremely well! I think we were even a little surprised by ourselves because we really came together and played with great chemistry and energy, and we were able to compete at a level that we hadn't yet reached during pre-season. Hopefully this will be a confidence booster for us and we will be able to continue competing with the bigger, more experienced teams. For now, I'm quite proud of all of my 'baby girls', as I like to call them on account of the fact that I've been playing volleyball since a few of them were 4 years old... That's a fact that I'm reluctantly sharing and one that we don't need to revisit because it just reminds me that I'm going to blink and be 35. Devastating. 

I'm probably forgetting to fill you in on all sorts of thrilling things, but my brain is completely overloaded and I'm trying desperately to avoid getting so flustered that I spontaneously combust and splatter brain chunks all over my already messy living room. More than once this week I've asked myself, 'what the hell have I gotten myself into?!' I vividly remember telling myself frequently during my undergraduate student-athlete experience that I would never put myself through something like that again. Well apparently I'm out of my mind and I love torturing myself. But hey, at least a serious lack of sleep, and self-inflicted pain and stress is better than being bored out of my tiny little mind. Right?

RIGHT?!

The Missing Months

Dear Blog,

Sorry I completely abandoned you. I know that I should have given you a little warning and I honestly didn't mean to blind side you. I swear it's not you, it's me. We were just at such different places in our lives and I needed to focus on myself. I know, it was selfish of me but it turns out that my schedule has opened up and I think I can pencil you in again, at least for a month or so. Will you forgive me and take me back?! Yes? OK great, now that we have that out of the way...

I think I last posted in January or February, which means that I have officially dropped the ball on this blogging thing. Let's be honest, I just didn't have my poop in a scoop, and seeing as though I have the attention span of a 12 year old boy it makes things like updating my blog nearly impossible. Life totally got in the way of me hanging out on the inter web, which I hear is all the rage these days, so I had better get back in the saddle or something like that. I'm having trouble hearing myself think because even with my headphones in I can hear death metal and machine gun sound effects coming from the television as Damon and his teammate, Chris, watch some absurd film that makes me actually consider hiding in the laundry room. Despite this, I shall try and update you on everything that you've missed, Readers' Digest style.

February was the month of Carnival. This is a much more worthwhile holiday than Valentine's day as it involves people getting inappropriately drunk, dressing up in elaborate costumes, and throwing the most insane street party imaginable for four days straight. Aalst is known for their Carnival celebration and although our city is small, the intensity of the celebration and the level of commitment that comes from the Belgian party crowd makes up for it in comparison to the celebrations in places like New Orleans and Rio de Janeiro. I'm pretty sure the point of this holiday is to partake in every form of debauchery possible and commit every 'sin' in the book prior to the beginning of lent, and from what I saw I can conclude that Jesus would be very proud and very honored. The tradition is for all the men in the city to dress up as women and then to go out into the city center and dance, sing, eat, drink, and love life. Each year it seems as though one or two people sacrifice themselves to the Carnival gods and either fall into the river in their Winnie the Pooh costume or get so drunk that they sleep on the streets in the February weather where they freeze to the sidewalk and remain, never to party again. It is indeed tragic, but it is just a testament to how serious this party is; it puts American college parties to absolute shame. I wish I had blogged about it at the time because I saw some truly incredible things. However, it goes without saying that I was unable to read or write because, while "being in Rome and doing as the Romans do", I had pickled my brain with Vodka and Duvel and this is the real reason I have been out of blogging commission for seven months.

March was the month that I celebrated my birth (thanks Tom and Andra). I turned 24 (underwhelming), and went to a concert to celebrate. I won't get into that story because it involves beer bongs and a brawl during the encore, and so clearly I can't do the tale justice without proper sound affects and reenactments. What I learned is that there seems to be a cultural difference when it comes to how to properly enjoy a jam band, and also that one should avoid going to see live music in a venue that leaves you surrounded by people that hate fun. I'm not going to throw any specific regions under the bus (Antwerp), but let's just say that this particular city has a lot of work to do in order to redeem itself.

During the spring I also applied to graduate school, to which I was accepted! Surprise everyone, I got a life! Starting in September I will be getting my Masters degree in Migration Studies from the University of Kent at Brussels. The University is a British University that has their International Studies Campus in Brussels, and I will hopefully be completing my degree in one intensive year. I also tried out with a First Division volleyball team in Gent. I have began training with the team which involves practicing three days a week for three hours each and includes weight lifting, jump training, and me sweating like a 300 pound man as well. The team is young, and by young I mean that they are too young to have sweat glands apparently, and the next oldest person on the team can't legally drink in America, but they are all very talented and have a lot of potential. Despite feeling like the grandmother of the team, I'm having fun and trying to get back into fighting shape and learning how to argue with the referees in Dutch. I won't elaborate on this too much because I can tell that you're bored. Translation: I'm boring myself, which is tragic because literally I'm just talking endlessly about myself, which most people generally love to do.

Let me sum things up. I went home to Seattle for the summer to spend some quality time as a member of the McDonald family circus, and to have pretty much every job that I had lined up successfully fall through. It was a real blast. Damon signed another contract with the team in Aalst, so here I am in Belgium, extra broke and extra flustered because I had to learn how to drive stick shift in less than a week so that I could drive myself to and from practice and games. Driving has been going just swimmingly (thanks for asking) as long as you don't count the time that I briefly stalled the car on the train tracks. What can I say, I like to live life on the edge. School will be starting later this month, and so I am trying to mentally prepare myself for the busy life of a student-athlete, which honestly is one that I did not imagine I would be revisiting post graduation from Brown. I will be commuting by train into Brussels for school, and then driving myself in the opposite direction in the evenings for volleyball practice. Somewhere in there I will try and find time to be an active member of Democrats Abroad Belgium, breathe, go to Damon's basketball games, continue my gourmet culinary adventures, drink Cava, and do laundry. Life has gone from 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye, and hopefully I will survive. Wish me luck!

For now I must depart on account of the fact that blogging hurts my brain and besides, when it comes to this, my attention span wore out yesterday. I have the horrifying sense that I've lost 'my funny' which could be a result of the fact that I haven't used blogging as a means of embarrassing myself in a public forum for quite some time now. Orrrrr it could be that it is borderline impossible to be entertaining whilst paraphrasing seven months worth of events. Ugh. At least I know that my Mom will read this, even if no one else does, and I can rest easy knowing that she is obligated to like it.

I am Pretend

I am blogging. I would love to say that the reason for this is because something really cool happened, but that isn't the reality of the situation. I am blogging because it is NOT on my to do list. Yes, I have created a rather extensive to do list for myself, and some of the things included on it are actually rather important to me. So naturally I am doing everything in my power to avoid getting them done. Then of course I add things to the list such as, "take a shower" and "eat dinner", so that I can cross those things off and feel as though I've done something productive. Then I make another extensive list of excuses for why I haven't been able to complete the other things on my to do list. Here are a few of the totally legitimate excuses that I've tested out in the recent past:

- The economy is in the shitter

- My bike has a flat tire

- It's too expensive

- I have imaginary pneumonia

- I was forced to drink an entire bottle of wine

- I was kidnapped by Belgian pirates

- I don't know my multiplication tables

- I have no choice but to watch the History channel

All valid excuses if you ask me. They are made extra valid because I put them into list form. Lists are productive, right?! I am so good at procrastinating that I have even figured out ways to procrastinate the use of my favorite "procrastination tool"... my blog. I am a joke.

I know that I've reached joke status because I actually said to myself the other day, "I need to buy another pair of sweat pants because I am wearing out the two pairs that I already own." Devastating. This was followed later in the week by another little gem of a quote: "I totally understand now why moms cut off all of their hair, long hair is just a hassle." My pathetic level peaked when I was riding the train one day, but before I get to the point, I must mention this fact; a Belgian woman would never be caught dead wearing sweat pants in public. They are completely put together at all times, wearing high heeled boots and with everything matching. Work, school, grocery shopping, and walking the dog are all activities that require getting fully "dressed" in Belgium. That being said, when I ride the train to volleyball practice I am ALWAYS dressed in my sweats. This alone makes it obvious that I am American. But one fateful day I took it to a new level. For once I was actually wearing jeans and a proper coat, but I had only brought with me a flimsy pair of flats to wear and it had begun to snow. The only other clothes that I had with me were my volleyball clothes. So I'm just going to come out with it. The only practical thing to do was to put on my tennis shoes, my white and pink Nike "trainers" to be exact (I will call them trainers in homage to the 1980s when women walked to work in blazers with shoulder pads, skirts, nylons, and their tennis shoes complete with orthotics). That's right; I wore Nikes with my skinny jeans without thinking twice about it. We're talking about the girl that used to wear flip flops in the winter in Seattle. What has happened to me?! I am not a working woman of the 1980s, nor do I have any children. If I'm not careful I'll be wearing jeans pulled over my belly button, and velcro shoes within a month. This alone is enough of a reason for me to get serious about getting a job.

I need someone to light a giant fire under my ass. New Year's resolutions are total crocks of shit if you ask me, and that won't cut it as motivation for me. (I learned this the hard way when my best friend and I resolved to quit cursing one year and quickly realized that removing certain words from our vocabularies was completely unnatural). I am starting to drown in insignificance. There is nothing I hate more in this world than feeling stagnant. (Well unless I'm feeling stagnant whilst wearing Nike trainers and sporting a Hilary Clinton hair cut at the age of 23).

What are my options here? Let's make a list:
1. Win the lottery
2. Exploit my family for money by writing a best selling book about them
3. Get a real job
4. Become a stripper
5. Apply to a masters program
6. Become a creepy European street entertainer that paints my entire body and pretends to be a statue in the middle of town square
7. Have a bake sale

Ya. Gee. I just don't see any valid possibilities there. Bummer.

In other news, I took a day trip to Luxembourg yesterday with Damon and his mom Jenni. It never previously made it onto my radar because it is such a tiny country and thus I automatically assumed it was going to be Europe's version of Rhode Island. False assumption. The capital city of Luxembourg is Luxembourg for those of you that didn't already know that, and let me just say that it is a gem of a city. The layout of the city is incredibly beautiful with towering bridges, winding cobblestone streets, big stone walls surrounding a giant park in the city center, and brick houses lining the hills. I can imagine that it is exponentially more beautiful in the spring and summer time when there is sunlight and everything isn't washed out by the gray scale. They have under half a million people living in the country, and they have combined Germanic European culture with Romance European culture, making it quite an interesting little bubble. They have three official languages, including "Luxembourgish," which I shall promptly learn before moving there. It's not like I have anything else to do... and since learning Luxembourgish isn't on my official to do list, it shouldn't take me long before I'm fluent. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go get a life.

P.S.

Upon reading the first draft of this blog ( and by "first draft" I mean the post that I wrote and published without editing as per usual), my Mother told me that it sucked. She said it was scattered, disorganized, and poorly written. She was right. Thank goodness for moms... well, thank goodness for moms like mine who will be brutally honest with you instead of always looking at you through the maternal version of beer goggles, which cause them to conclude that their child is the greatest thing since sliced bread. Fine, I admit that my Mother still tells me that I'm pretty when I look like a troll whose hair could double as a nest for small birds, but at the very least she tells me that my writing is shitty when necessary. Plus, I found it fitting that my writing was disorganized just like my life and just like my thoughts. A true representation of where I am at this particular moment. Here I am people. Get to know me!