¡Bienvenido a mi mundo!

Pop Quiz, hot shot: You've been seeing someone for 8 months, things seem to be going great, and you're not thinking it will end anytime soon. Well SURPRISE: It does! You find yourself dumped, at home alone, and dazed. How do you decide to cope with this recent development? Do you:

a) sit around like a sad sack, then drown your sorrows in a gallon of ice cream
b) curl up in the fetal position and cry
c) slash their tires and break their windshield while singing 'You Oughta Know'
d) Get online and apply for a job in a foreign country

If you answered 'a-b', I suggest you add a cat, and a 'Supernatural' marathon.
If you answered 'c', OMG what's wrong with you? Seriously, you actually answered 'C'!? You need anger management and a self help tape... and Jesus!
If you answered 'd', then you're most likely insane (the good kind), irrational (At times. Like you're so perfect!), impulsive, and just. like. ME.

Alrighty, so you've applied for a program that would place you in Spain for 6-8 months as an assistant teacher. The application went in on the last possible day, so the application number is high. That's right: there are about 4,400 people before you, who had the drive to get off their asses and apply for the opportunity of a lifetime. For the next few months, placement after placement is given out to anyone whose name is not KC White. You kick yourself for waiting so long to apply, and spend months constantly checking the program website, and your email every day. You even get a DUMMY email that says "Congratulations on your placement!", and your heart soars. It is almost immediately followed by another email that basically says "Oops, computer glitch. Our bad LOL, love Spain. #YOLO." Womp wooooomp.

By the end of summer, you figure that's a wrap. It's over... Acceptance is a hard thing, but you tell yourself that you're never going to Spain. Ever. At least, not this year. There's always grad school, maybe you'll get to Europe that way? No, screw that. Never. You're never going to Spain, and you'll only see Europe if someone brings your ashes.  After a couple of months of telling people that maybe you'll try again next year, and this just wasn't the time, life returns to normal. That whole thing seems like a dream, it was forever ago. What were you thinking? Silly girl, all talking about leaving the country and shit.

Then on a random ass Wednesday after an 8.5 hour shift, you decide to check your email for the first time. A new email just arrived, subject: Adjudicación de plaza. After the air goes back into your lungs, you open the email to see: "Ha sido adjudicada la plaza en - Madrid - España a su solicitud [insert a fuck ton of numbers here] del programa de Auxiliares de Conversación en España."

Long story short: You're in the program. You're being sent to Madrid. You have five days to accept or decline. You accept (hell yeah, you do! Of COURSE you do, what's wrong with you!?). So now you're going to Spain. 

SPAIN.

...Well shit, son. What's next?