Friday, February 4, 2011
Burrito
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Its Snowing
Friday, June 25, 2010
Readjustment
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Leavin' on a Jet Plane!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Walkin'
The Bo-Me’ have taken to calling me “the Chicken”, because I look like a chicken looking for food I guess.
The children always ask me what I’m doing.
I don’t have much of an answer for them. I tell them, “I’m thinking” and they ask “about what?” and that’s where the language barrier slams down between us.
Even if I had the words I’m not sure I’d be able to explain.
When I graduated High School I was at a bit of a crossroads. I’d just been cut free from the life I’d known since I was 5. Wake up, go to school, explain why I was late, learn some, come home, do anything but homework, and repeat. After High School we’re lead to believe that the entire world is before us. Truth be told, I knew that at least the next few years would hold much the same.
College was another routine and more of the same. Throw in a job and you more or less have the same thing. Even after College I knew the general direction I wanted to go.
Cross roads isn’t the right analogy. With a cross roads you can go left, right, or straight. Maybe its one of those crazy five point crossroads that everyone panics a bit when they come too. You still have clear options. Now I have a feeling that its more like the road has come to an end at the ocean.
I can do anything.
I can do nothing.
While I pace I think about all my options. Professional options; I could get a job, go back into politics, try to find something else I believe in. Educational options; law school, grad school, technical school, language school… And personal options; time with family, time with friends, places to live, girls, girls, girls…
I attempted to explain this to a girl of 12 who has particularly good English. She didn’t understand at all.
Take all this, the ending of the road, the open sea, the possibilities of life all spread out before me, and then add in that nagging question, that question you cant help when answering truthfully but sound a little conceited, cliché, hokey or foolish.
What has the last two years been?
So I just walk. Thirty three steps this way, followed by thirty three that way. One slow step at a time the questions come and the questions go.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
A Ramble on Romance
I’ve never been good at Valentines Day. I think if you were to poll my past girlfriends you would realize that I’m not a terribly romantic person. You would also likely hear a few other choice things, which is why I do not advise you to poll my past girlfriends.
Valentines Day is a lot of pressure. You have to take all kinds of things into consideration. What she likes, what has meaning, what she wants, what you’ve given in the past, blah, blah, blah. I recall one instance (I don’t even think it was Valentines Day, it was an anniversary or some other important thing like that, but the point still stands) where I thought to myself “self, we should really try to be romantic this time around” and that sounded like a rather good idea at the time. So we (Self and I) went out and got a dozen roses. That’s twelve. Apparently roses are five bucks a pop.
I was going to say “I’ll let you do the math” but I wont. $5 x 12 = $60.
I know, I know, you can’t put a price on love. The depths of the heart cannot be judged by the depth of the wallet. All I want is a rational, grounded, understanding of what $60 could be! The sacrifice that $60 represented, at that stage of my life, was quite significant. But I digress.
Upon presentation of said floral arrangement I was shocked to hear “oh, flowers again…” Apparently this girl was wise to my ticks. More appropriately my one trick. For when it comes to affairs of romance and the such I’m really a one trick horse.
I lack creativity. I have no sense of the meaningful, what ever that is. I’m not spontaneous.
I am deficient in romance.
Unromantic.
Romance is too much pressure. If it’s the thought that counts its gotta be a good thought. And I’m kinda dumb.
And another thing! Spontaneous?! How the hell is a guy supposed to be spontaneous? Valentines day is right there on the calendar! Its hardly spontaneous if its scheduled.
So what’s to blame? Why is Romance so hard?
Movies.
That’s why. All these silly girls watch silly romantic comedies where all the silly guys are nothing but kind and loving and spontaneous and thoughtful and romantic. Some hunk or another does the right thing at the right time and always knows what to say. Well you know what? Most guys don’t know this stuff. Most guys have trouble figuring out their own feelings. How are they supposed to know how girls feel?
Why is all the pressure on the guy anyway? Isn’t love a two way street? A girl can get away with a DVD but a guy’s gotta do something meaningful and sweet.
I got on a little rant there.
Anyway, here’s to Valentines Day.
Friday, February 5, 2010
A Cultural Exchange
I don’t dance
I have never been known for my dancing abilities. I have that unfortunate combination of genes that both obliterate rhythm and coordination. Add to that a complete disconnect from what music is “hip” and “cool” and you get someone who, for the greater good and a love of humanity, stays away from the dance floor.
This was fine and good for the first 24 years of my life. I was able to fake it enough, bob my head when I needed too, shuffle my feet when asked, and rock back and forth. I could shimmy my way across the dance floor to the place where others with my unfortunate condition congregate. Couches, kitchens, tables, and porches. These were my sanctuaries.
In Peace Corps when you get four or more volunteers in the same place with anything resembling a beat or sounds that are close to music (and I’ve noticed the sounds don’t have to sound much like music) you suddenly have a gathering that falls into the category of “Dance Party”. I’m not sure what happened to good ol’ fashioned parties, but they appear to have gone the way of the dodo, being completely replaced with what the trendy folk call a “DP”.
It became clear that my old tricks and strategies were of no use. In a one room rondaval the kitchen is the dance floor, there are no couches, the two chairs have been pushed aside, no group of smokers to hide in. Its all DP all the time. No sanctuary, no hope.
So you dance.
And I've danced.
When Peace Corps asked me if I was ready for new cultural experiences I never imagined this. What is someone like myself supposed to do? I’m not entirely sure what’s supposed to happen when you’re on the dance floor. Frank Sinatra led me to believe that dancing was “making love to music”, but if that’s the case, the love making going on here wouldn’t have a place on Showtime. It’s the kind that would exist behind the little black curtain in the video store. “Bumping” and “Grinding” looks like a high risk behavior, something where you call up your doctor the day after.
Yet I dance.
I change.
I adapt.
For I am human.
But don’t for a second think I like it.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Fightin'
I’m itchin’ for a fight. I have been for a while.
We just received three new volunteers here in Butha-Buthe. They’re all nice, optimistic, hopeful young kids. They’ll undoubtedly change the world (and
It reminds me why I came and how I felt at first.
I’ve spent some time with these newbies, showed them around town a bit, tried to convey some of the finer points of life and travel in
Then a thought occurred to me. Something I had had a feeling of for some time but never put to words. Something that had been festering under the skin for the past year or so, growing and breeding and lead to a lot of my frustrations.
I wanted a fight.
Here in
This Sucks. Nothing is mine. I don’t feel the passionate need to “go to the mattresses”. I don’t say up at night worrying about success or failure. So much of it is out of my hands that its hard to get worked up over it. I miss the days of really fighting the good fight. I miss applying myself to a task, which was in my own hands to achieve, and really working out the short and long of it. In short, I miss the conflict, the struggle, the challenge.
I’m itchin’ for a fight.
Watch out.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Just thoughts
I have just around seven months left in my Peace Corps service. To be a bit more precise I have 31 weeks left if I choose to close my service (CoS) in July. With only half a year left its natural to look back and think of the things I’ve done.
My mind then goes blank.
A large part of the Peace Corps support structure is to remind us that we are just one person, one little cog, one little ant in the grand scheme of things. They remind us that even if our projects fail, if our support groups disappear and the clubs never fully form, our simple presence in the village, at the work place, changes lives and helps.
We will never see the change we make.
Despite these constant reminders its hard not to get discouraged. Most of the projects, due to a lack of commitment, money issues, misunderstandings, or what have you, have failed. Small projects, such as setting up gardens or co-ops get my hopes up, and then a month or so later turn into disappointments. This late in the game I don’t even know if I can say I’m giving it my all anymore.
Its hard.
At the same time I sit here and look back on the past year and half I’ve spent in Africa, living a life that would be hard to even comprehend in America, and think fondly of it. It’s a bit of a paradox. A sense of failure mixed with accomplishment.
The skills I’ll take away from this are far to interpersonal and deeply rooted to accurately explain. I’m certain that I can tolerate just about any work condition. I’m sure that when (if) I get a real job there wont be a task to hard, boring, or useless for me to take on. I’m also afraid I wont be able to share, in the true sense, how important this has been in my life.
Stories will be told, but details left out.
Memories related but meaning lost.
Merry X-mass if I don’t post before then!
Saturday, December 12, 2009
I Havn't Forgotten...
I've actually been writing alot! We have a new news letter here in country by PCV's for PCV's. I've taken on the responsibility (because I dont know how to say no, and it makes up for my laziness at site) of editing the poor thing. When there isnt an article to full room, I write one up. I'm rather enjoying it!
Stay tuned, I promise I'll post something tomorrow, even if its a short, uninteresting little blurb like this.
Adios