Major Weeper

Ohhhh it's happening. I'm starting to fully recognize how fast Spain is careening toward me.

Jude Law in The Holiday

Too often, everyday activities, dinners with friends and weekend ventures now feel like "the last time." The perceived finality is constant and jarring. Missed opportunities will be missed for a no less than a year. I'm packing my apartment to move out at the end of the month, but being the expert procrastinator that I am, it doesn't really look like it. As my calendar for the next month starts to fill, an apartment full of stuff is my last stronghold, but my grip on framed pictures, shelves of books and decorative pieces is getting looser each day.

I know that what set this realization in motion: this weekend I'll meet up with my sisters to celebrate T-Dawg's birthday and hand off some belongings. I'll get to see my parents, too - and this will be my final visit with them before I'm off to Madrid. And I'm still working on a way to visit my brother another time in the next month, too. One last time. A final meal, a final hug...geez, the knot in my throat is swelling to softball size.

Gut check: Nothing is "the last time." I'm moving to Madrid, not Mars. Last year my student lifestyle (read: budget) didn't allow me to go home as much as I usually would, like at Easter and Thanksgiving, so I went at least a six-month stretch without seeing Mom & Dad. I've gone months without seeing family and years without seeing friends...So what's the big difference if they can make it to Madrid by spring? Not to mention the Christmas trip I'm planning with my sister and the many friends who are already bidding for their preferred vacation dates. That's all very comforting... so why isn't it?

The bottom line is that different means unpredictable. I cherish my relationships and won't try to convince myself that I shouldn't be sad about living so far away from my loved ones. So, I'm committed to spending the next month reminding myself of just how predictably loving my family is, inspiring my girlfriends are, and supportive my friends are. Notice I said "next," not "last." Ain't nobody got time for that. We're in this together! I'm accepting that the tears will flow -- not in mourning of our missed moments of (just physical) togetherness, but rather in celebration of the growth we'll experience through the exciting challenges that face us in the coming year.

Visa Whoa!

"Patience is a virtue." - Mr. Seiler

My sixth grade science teacher said this all the time. A virtue is a quality that one should be desirous of possessing. As Martha Stewart would say, "it's a good thing" - unequivocally. If that's not enough for you, the saying has Biblical roots (Galatians 5:22) - it's a "fruit of the Spirit" (along with love, joy, peace, kindness, self-control - all pretty awesome). So, yes, I'm convinced. I surely agree. I just wish I had considered this before I decided to essentially harass the Spanish Consulate for my visa...

After reaching the peak of frustration with seeing my fellow auxiliares' whiplash-inducing return times for their visas earlier this week, I was emboldened to email Consulate - just to check, ya know? I was surprised that she emailed me back because Consulate is pretty particular about how and when you address her. I received a simple response: "Mrs. Clark, your visa has been approved. Kind regards." Aside from the whole "Mrs." thing, I was excited! The random red rash that popped up on my chin the day of my physical wouldn't be keeping me in the States, after all!

"I got no patience. And I hate waitin'." - Jay-Z

Well...I wasn't sure if "approved" meant "ready." For the record, they are not synonymous. The kind man at the window who helped me when I showed up unannounced this morning reminded me that I was just here on July 17th, and was told to wait a month. *insert sheepish cringe* Despite that, he pulled some strings to get my visa printed up today, and instructed me to return later to pick it up. Crisis averted. Lesson learned. We in there.

Visa Woes

Twenty days (and 13 and a half hours) ago, I had my appointment at the Spanish Consulate to apply for my visa. It was a really brief affair, not even filling my 10-minute appointment slot. The woman who received my materials casually gossiped with her coworker as she looked through my expertly paper-clipped and binder-clipped application and promised me that they would email me when it was ready - about a month. I fully understand that 20 days don't constitute a month, but I'm getting really antsy.

The list of required documentation includes proof of income, proof of insurance, proof of mental and physical health and a state-level background check - all in duplicate. And then I dealt with no fewer than 4 different notaries to prove I was the one doing the proving. And then the notarizations had to be "apostilled" to prove that they were legit in the European Union, because apparently notaries are just domestic or something. No "and then"! Do you see the theme here, though? Lots of proving going on. Maybe all the hurdles are set up to to weed out the faint of heart -- the weaklings who can't really handle the responsibilities and privileges of holding a Spanish visa. This visa will lay the groundwork for my application for residency and allow me to not only stay in the country beyond the normal 90-day tourist limit, but more importantly (particularly in this economy), hold an over-the-table job.

Folks are popping up on Facebook talking -- nay, bragging -- about how they got their visas in two weeks or other absurdly short waiting periods. Remember how my application was clipped up to the high heavens? It really was - like items gathered, placed in the same order as the list on the consulate site, all copies made in full color...it was perfection. I thought for sure that I'd be one of those obnoxious braggarts telling everyone else how I sailed through my appointment and received my visa just moments later.

It's tough to hand over your passport, not knowing where it will go, what journey it will take, or when it will come back to you...

OK, maybe I'm a tad overly emotional about my passport, but I'm a worrywart. This delay-that-isn't-really-a-delay-because-it-hasn't-been-a-month-yet makes me think something is wrong with my application. Was the doctor's note illegible? Did the 3 erroneous notarizations on one document raise a red flag? Did my fro look suspiciously different from my passport photo?! 

Current mood: Beyoncé, "I Miss You"