In my efforts to combat this country's seductive obsession with red meat, I've started imposing a diet on myself. More produce. No more Milanesa (a delicious slab of beef pounded thin, breaded and fried, and then served with mayonnaise). This isn't really that interesting. I just wanted to explain the title...basically, while eating an apple on the bus the other day, I was suddenly struck by how wonderfully natural it is for humans to eat fruit. It's sweet, filling, nutritious, and grows without any human impact. What could be more meant-to-be than than the growing and eating of fruit? And how fortunate are the beings on this earth that apples grow everday, naturally, and with the satisfying taste and necessary nutrients that we need? Apples, in turn, rock.
Anyway, an update on happenings here. I HAVE KEYS!! And, bitch, I've been usin' 'em. (After finishing the first two seasons of "Skins", that is)
On Thursday, I spent the afternoon continually reminded why I wanted to go into television writing (SKINS), and then speed-walked to a nearby park for my daily cardio. Later, I went to an advanced acting class at La Sala Ross, where I've officially become the resident stalker. We had the class in a small rehearsal space, and the group were already a properly formed clique. Luckily, theater games pushed me very quickly into an improvised David Lynch-worthy dance party that had me hip to hip with several classmates. I had a blast, but the class was surprisingly demanding. As we improvised, I found myself continually falling into depressed, isolated characters. Luckily, I pulled out before I totally submerged into the woeful-princess I was becoming. Am I really so angsty? I think it's the recent You Tube-induced seclusion I've found in my room. I didn't realize I was so bad at going idle.
Luckily, activities commenced on Friday. I went to another yoga class, where the tranquil spanish commands and assurances kept getting interrupted by the teacher's constant scoffings at my gnarled poses. Try yoga in Spanish. It's a trip!
After, I went to a rioutous (literally) children's acting class at La Sala Ross. I felt for the teacher, who was easily, bull-dozed over by the 20-something room of screaming girls. We spent most of the class developing improvisations, and I tried to help, but the girls couldn't understand most of what I was saying. It's was very humbling. I guess knowing the words isn't the end of the work.
I closed out the evening over dinner with a cinema studies professor I had met earlier this week. Nice guy. Loves musicals. He also tried to convince me that the dictatorship of the 1970s, and the following "Dirty War" that left hundreds of thousands of people "missing", could actually be seen as a necessary end to keep communism out of the country. "We could have ended up like Cuba," he said. "It's horrible what happened, but the world is only getting half of the story." I don't think that any story could justify denying so many citizens their rights. I also didn't appreciate his scoffing at my emotional reaction to "Moulin Rouge," which he said only used pop music as an "ineffective device" to sell tickets. I don't know how much we'll be hanging out again.