To say I was stressed this morning would be a ridiculous understatement. I had meant to finish my Desigual paper last night, but skyped my mom, dad and Brazilian instead. I had meant to work on my Desigual presentation, but as it turns out, my compy doesn't have Powerpoint. I meant to get to school plenty early to finish all of this, but my internet card wouldn't work and I wasted fifteen minutes yelling at it before I finally changed computers and it magically worked. I was nervous during my presentation and spent class time worrying about all the things I forgot to write in my essay. By the time class was done, I was so on edge that all I could think to do was to go on a serious stroll in search of pastries. Even chocolate croissant and pina juice man wasn't there (nor was the nepolitana chocolate)... and that's when I really lost my shit.
So when I found a store called, "Mas que galletas" ("More than cookies") with a little lady carefully decorating a batch of freshly baked cut out cookies with her two year old son and a case full of cupcakes and cheesecakes and torts, I decided Ernesto's class could deal with me arriving a little late in the name of my pastry addiction being the only thing that could quell my nerves.
Wrong-o, bong-o.
I did my best to duck into class more than five minutes late, but seeing as I sit in the first seat of the first row, that didn't so much work out. I was so embarrassed that I was showing up late to the last official day of my beloved Ernesto's class that I sunk down in my chair and altogether avoided glancing in his general direction lest me catch my gaze and glare at me for my rudeness. I was certain I'd go down in his book as that "one girl who'd come to class epically late and fall asleep during break so soundly that she often appeared dead and every once in awhile didn't even wake up in time when break was over." GREAT. Just what I wanted: the first professor I've had in forever whom I actually respect and adore thinking I'm just another American dolt.
So when I finally glanced up, I was completely unprepared for what I saw.
There Ernesto was, pacing back and forth in front of us, wearing his usual jeans, red pumas and a black shirt... with a humongous, almost 3-D seeming Kermit the Frog on it.
I did a double take and then began giggling. I couldn't help it. This man was too good (and too clever) to be true.
Ernesto maintained his composure, going on and on about uh... I'm not sure what (how could I pay attention at a time like this?!) despite hearing my sudden onslaught of giggles and when he glanced in my direction, I was sure he was going to give me a warning look, as if to say, "please stop interrupting my uber important lecture on something you're not even grasping right now with your silly giggles," but instead he cracked a tiny, almost undetectable smile and winked at me.
(For any of you who are not following and understanding just how AWESOME this whole thing truly was, please refer to my blog post Day 30.)
I realize Ernesto and I exchanged blog addresses sometime back in June. I realize we are Facebook friends. But it never dawned on me that somebody with as much importance as Ernesto would ever take the time to actually READ my blog. "Oh, shit!" was all I could think; my blog is my place to tell it like it is, and I let my praise for the man and his classes fly freely. Perhaps had I known there was even a small chance he's read any of it, I would have tried to come across a little less exuberant and enthused about the whole thing. Damn.
At break time he came up to me smiling and proclaimed, "See? I told you you'd laugh." (Indeed, he even had posted it on my Facebook wall earlier today!) Oh, Ernesto. The fact that the second half of the class dealt with a play about the meaning of death and the idea that death is merely a continuation of life (and the fact that he may or may not have had me and my incessant comments and complaints about the narrow mindedness of Spain's creative class with respect to death in mind when picking this piece as the final "obra" we learned in the course) was mere frosting (funfetti, of course) on the cake.
After class I made sure to get an epic picture of the Kermit shirt and then made a mad dash for it. Generally, Ernesto and I talk a little bit after class about what we'd just gone over, but despite the fact that today was the last day we could do that, I was too taken aback by the whole thing to know what to say. Nobody tops my creativity and tenacity. Certainly not a professor. But Ernesto proved to be the most worthy of contenders!
As I exited the room, I heard somebody ask about his shirt, and Ernesto smiled and replied something along the lines of "It's a secret message."
It's an extremely rare moment when I feel like somebody just... "gets it." It's an even rarer moment when I feel like somebody just... gets who I am. My Spanish wasn't always the greatest, sometimes I'd be epically late for class, other times I'd pass out on the desk, consuming my ten minute break. Not all of my comments were profound and every once in awhile I'd decide doodling a million tiny animals was more important than taking notes for a certain poem. But despite all of this, I feel as though Ernesto saw the exact me that I aspire to be -- that intelligent, intellectual, existential, creative, unique, tenacious, sanguine, sarcastic, greatful girl I'm working on bringing closer to the surface.
At times I literally felt like he could SEE that part of me and it challenged me to expand her role in my everyday life and practice being who I want to be. For Ernesto's class to be the very last class of my college career is more perfect than I could have ever planned. Yeah - I learned a lot about poetry and modern literature; a lot about my fascination with the Eastern view of death; a lot about how many stereotypes of American students aren't so much stereotypes as unfortunate truths... but more than all of this I learned that there are people who somehow are able to recognize me for who I really am (or at least am practicing on being) and are willing to do crazy and silly things to make me know this to be the truth.
If I were to create a list of the top three people who have changed who I am and how I see myself and life while I've been here in Spain, Ernesto would without a doubt be on this list. With so much packing to do and obsessively tracking Grandma and Sam's flight (they're over the ocean now!!), I am unable to express my true gratitude for this, but when I have time, be sure the thank you letter will write itself (preferably in poetry, but prose will most likely win out).
XOXO
Jet-set Cupcake
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario