Me estoy volviendo loca.

If it weren’t for my budget, I would be SO ready to move out of this house. Yes, it was great at first for the nice roof and the open air and the view, but here’s the reality: the dog downstairs never shuts up, he’s eaten four of my dish sponges, and thinks that me hanging my clothes to dry on a clothesline is a fun game for him to play. I still think there may be rats lurking around occasionally, I stepped on a giant anthill in my yard a couple weeks ago and didn’t realize it until my foot felt like it was on fire and I looked down and it was submerged in tiny black moving things, and last night I walked out of my room thinking “oh my god, that’s a huge moth in my apartm—FUUUCK IT’S A BAT” and sprinted back into my room screaming. My landlord came over promptly after that episode and killed it by smashing it with a broom as I watched in absolute horror. Despite me not wanting a bat in my house, I also didn’t want him to kill it. He also assured me that he thinks my rat problem is actually a cat problem. I’m skeptical. Although it changed my perspective on the problem a little bit—instead of my apartment being a filthy rat den, it makes me happier to think that it can now be a safe place for hungry, stray cats to come for dinner. (Which then made me realize that I’ve finally completed my transformation into the crazy cat lady—although I prefer the term enlightened cat enthusiast—that I’ve always known I would someday become. It was really only a matter of time. Now all I need to do is to stop bathing and start wearing a sack and hoarding stacks of newspapers to use as furniture. Because who has the time for hygiene when there are cats to feed?)

But seriously, I’m about to completely lose it one of these days with all of these animals. I’ve stayed over at co-workers’ houses the past two nights, returning only in the mornings to shower and eat, because I’ve become increasingly overwhelmed with the animals and other various nuisances that have creeped their way into my life.

Oh, Guatemala. Never a dull moment.

Also, I saw a pickup truck flatbed full of gringos yesterday. Pana is a strange place. But I still love it oh so much. (All apartment infestation issues aside.) Last Wednesday was my friend Karyn’s last day at work, and it made me start to get sad because not only am I bummed that she’s leaving and I’ll be the only development intern for a while, but also I now have less than two months left here and that makes me sad as well.

And stressed out because the clock is ticking on finding a real job for when I come home, and my slowly dwindling bank account is constantly reminding me of this fact. But this is an unpaid internship, so I knew what I getting myself into.

Karyn and I, both being unpaid and soon to be unemployed, have been having job-searching and resume-writing parties. How do you make job searching a party, you ask? Simply add chocolate and a box of wine and it becomes much more fun! But is it effective? Not always, because if taken too far, your cover letters end up looking like this:

Dear sir or marndma:

            U shld hire me czu I am the BESTD. THE besSt. evr.

            srsly. plz? m catz need food.

                        -hammr

ps—nailed it.

^^I’ll let you know if I get that sick job at UN headquarters.

In all seriousness though, I have landed a couple of interviews! Which gives me a little bit of hope. We’ll see what happens. If I have any luck, you all will know soon. Or if not, I’ll keep at the search with increasing diligence. Because I have no choice.

Working here at MG is still going well, and I’m really enjoying it. I was kind of excited about that blog post I got to write for the website. The executive director even decided she wanted a version of my post to go out to all of our newsletter subscribers in an e-blast, to which my boss reacted: “OH SHIT HANNAH YOU’RE ABOUT TO BLOW UP.” I love working for her.

Also, the group of mothers and daughters that we have to entertain arrives later tonight in Guatemala City, and they’ll be here in Pana on Monday after they visit Antigua first. Next week will be a little crazy because of that. And may give me some good stories related to my inability to talk to adolescents. I found out that all the daughters are actually in grades 6 through 8, instead of being in high school like I originally thought. This stresses me out a great deal because I really just don’t know how to deal with tweens. And I have to like, make friendship bracelets with them and shit. I’m not even kidding. Good thing I’m not going to be with them for the whole week because I think would explode from awkwardness overload. And so would everyone else just from watching me interact with them.

But seriously, what do you talk to 11-13 year old girls about? Not a rhetorical question. This is something I actually need to figure out before next week, you guys. Any help is appreciated.

What the hell did I talk about at that age? I can’t even remember. Possibly all the boys I had crushes on in middle school that I ended up finding out were gay once I got to high school. Should I warn them about that before they meet the same fate, and end up crushed and in denial when everybody starts coming out of the closet at band camp? I would have found that information useful at their age. They’ll thank me someday when they realize that this gift of knowledge helped them to avoid the path to becoming the cat lady you now see before you.

Other than that, I got nothin.

(help)