I realize my first attempt at writing a Blog was rather lame. Apologies.
I've been considering this for a quite a long time, but I have had one issue that has kept me from Blogging for this long: What language should I write in? My first instinct is to write in Spanish, just in case my father wishes to read me (but I'm totally sure he won't) he can. But then, I think, my closest friends read better (or only) in English, and so English seems like the reasonable language to write in... But my father... but my friends... well, you can see why it's taken me so many years.
But here I am. Thanks Bobby, for the final push...
So, here I am, pretending to be a writer. Again. Or for the first time, I don't know.
The good thing (one of the thousand good things) of moving to another continent, is the chance to create a whole new persona. The chance to cause a first impression. For instance, I no longer introduce myself as a translator, but as a teacher. I work as a translator and not as a teacher, though.
I live in sin with Honey, so I'm also kind of a wife... without the ring, but with all the responsabilities.
I'm again a student, and I'm quite good--except for the homework part.
I'm a new person--but still the same. I'm frezing all the time. I wear winter panties with fleece innerlining. I wear gloves and scarves and hats... have I mentioned it's only beginning of autumn?!?
Life is good. We have a tiny apartment, which is enough for us. Honey works, I study. We cook (OK, he cooks...). We have a good life.
And I'm online all the time.
I guess that has not changed all that much...