Veloma

There is no ceremonious way to say goodbye.  It's awkward, and never as meaningful as you'd like it to be.  We end up making jokes, or saying something stupid or mildly inappropriate, and the moment is lost.

But it just reminds you that it's not forever.  It's not even that long a time?  Down the line, we'll make so many more moments that one lost one is not a big deal in the long run.

So, later, fools, we'll see each other again.  

As we loaded the car with all my junk, I couldn't help but feel like the situation was made out to be more serious than it actually was.

As I rode down Melrose Avenue, I distinctly thought that I maybe should be feeling more than I was at the time.

As I made my way through airport security, I felt weird looking back at my family and waving each time. 1, 2, 3 times as I pulled my laptop out of my bag. 4, 5, 6 times and I waited for my things to come out of the scanner.  7, 8, 9, and a tenth time as I shifted my foot into its shoe again.  I walked through the terminal and sat at the gate, as far from security as I could.  I played my music, and reached for my belt to put it back on.

Instead I found my camera.  We forgot to take a picture before I left.  I had been successfully pushing down the lump in my throat, but a single missed opportunity like that proved itself too much for my willpower and I started to cry.  As Joni Mitchell's Both Sides Now lamented wasted love, I too felt there was a lot I could lament over.

I slowly got up and picked up my bags and returned to the security checkpoint.   My family was still there after 15 minutes, and I met them to say goodbye again.  We took some pictures, and got mad at each other, and made some jokes.  I was even able to talk to my older brother on the phone so I could say goodbye to the whole family.  When it was time to say goodbye again, I had a much easier time of it.  Nothing was very different, only I shooed my family instead of waved - I would be fine with everything this time.  1, 2, 3 shoo.  4, 5, 6, shoo.

And I boarded the plane.  And it took off.  And I made it to Philadelphia.  I think the hard part is over.

I'm Not Going to Pretend that I Know What I'm Getting Myself Into

It's just past 5am on September 28, 2008, and there is no more denying that I am about to begin.

In just a few hours, I'll be getting on a plane to start my staging, then training, and finally service in the Peace Corps.  It's hard to believe that I'm actually going through with this.  Don't get me wrong - I'm so excited to start.  What I mean is that I remember sitting in English class in the eighth grade listening to Mrs. Payne talk about her service in the Belgian Congo, and I remember that I wished I could do something like that.  Peace Corps hasn't been my life's ambition since that moment, but that just makes me marvel even more at the moments in my life that brought this fleeting wonder into a real life-altering undertaking.  I think a lot of people indulge in their own quiet fantasies of joining the Peace Corps and making a difference, and I was no different.  It feels like pure chance that I found myself in these fantasies again in my life.

I know that I have Natty to thank for doing that.  Just after my pilgrimage to Santiago, my professor, George Greenia, had us list a high hope and a quiet concern regarding our completion of the holy rite.  This wasn't new to us, as we'd listed several high hopes and quiet concerns before we had began our journey.  When it was my turn, I explained to my group that I had high hopes that I could share the experience of my pilgrimage with the ones I love and hopefully encourage another to make the journey themselves (I'm leaving my hiking pack at home so my brother can take it when he makes his pilgrimage next summer: mission accomplished.)  My quiet concern was just as important to me, as I'd felt it ever since I arrived in the town - would the pilgrimage be the most exciting thing I will ever do in my life?  It would be a shame to peak at 19 years old.  

And where's Natty in this story?  Well, just a few after I asked myself that question, I got to see my good friend Natty in Germany as she flew to Washington to begin her staging for Peace Corps in Jordan.  Even though I'd only known Natty for a year, she had become a great friend, and I felt so proud of what she was doing with her life.  I think that's the first time I really began to think of Peace Corps as a legitimate option for me.  As fate would have it, Natty is two years older than me and as a result began Peace Corps two years before I could.  As a result, we're currently in the middle of a four-year hiatus of sorts in our friendship, as I'm off to Madagascar before she had a chance to return to the States after her service.  And even though it's been a while since we've seen each other, and it'll be another while still, I truly thank her for her example, guidance, and friendship.  It has molded me and brought about a course in my life that until I met her was nothing more than a fleeting wonder in the eighth grade.

Send Me, Please...

M&Ms

White cheddar cheezits

Teddy Grahams (cinnamon, the red box, please)

Seasoning packets (Hidden Valley Ranch, mac & Cheese sauce packets, pizza/italian seasoning)

Drink mixes (sugar-free Kool-Aid, etc.)

Gum

Books

• Hemingway
• Gabriel Garcia Marquez
• John Steinbeck
• Anything you love - I'll read it.

Letters! It costs 94 cents to send a letter. Do it today!

CD mixes - anything you like. I'll love it too!

Photos! Especially of us!

CHRISTMAS STUFF! Peppermints, candy canes, anything with a Christmas feel.

Upgrade / Downgrade

Upgrade:
I'm getting off my ass right now.

Downgrade:
My intense laziness re: everything else these past two weeks.

Let's just forget most of August happened.

Upgrade/Downgrade

Hey funny bunnies.

Upgrade:

• Got a haircut today!
• Went to the gym for the first time in a while.
• Went grocery shopping and stocked up on healthy foods
• Talked to my good friend Gina today
• Helped a bit with cooking dinner
• I'm sticking with the 100 push ups and I'm doing them right now, writing during my breaks

Downgrade:

• Everything on my upgrade list was on my list to do 3 days ago.
• I'm supposed to leave for DC/Baltimore tomorrow and I'm still awake.
• I don't even know how to get there.
• I haven't written on my journal in 3 days.
• I locked myself out of my car and my brother had to come unlock it for me on his birthday

Even with those few downgrades, today was a pretty good success.  I actually like cooking, and I 'm upset that I've sort of let it go by the wayside.  I put my friend Gina on upgrades because I don't like feeling so disconnected from my friends, so I chalk it up to good mental health when we chat.

Goals for later: Lots of reading, and a JOBROS concert with Ayesha tomorrow!

Reasons for Writing

While I'm admittedly pretty self-involved a lot of the time, that's not the (only) reason I decided to refresh this blog. I thought I'd share a few with you, if any of you are reading this.

To begin, I don't presume that anything I'm writing about is particularly interesting (now, anyway).  Actually, the more I write the more I realize I don't really enjoy my own writing style.  I'm hoping that as I write more often and about different subjects, it'll develop into something I can tolerate a bit more.  I don't anticipate ever really having a job where my colloquial writing style is necessary, but I would like to find my writing voice and have it match my personality.

In a few weeks (God willing... maybe months), I'll be leaving to go to Africa for the Peace Corps.  I still haven't gotten my invitation, but I'm expecting (hoping) to hear something pretty soon.  Once I leave, contact back home will be spotty at best.  There is a chance (however small) that I'll be able to write here about my experience and at least remind people that I'm still around in the world over the following 27 months.  I thought about waiting until something important happened in the application process to begin writing again, but I figured I'd end up writing one post and no others for months, as has happened so many times on this blog.  When something happens, I'll be sure to include it in a post, but I don't need it to be the focus of my writings just yet.

Finally, after applying to Peace Corps, I've realized how much I depend on my family and friends for support and advice in my life.  Regardless of how much I post here or how many letters I send and receive, I'm sure I'll be lonely in Africa.  I need to be able to process my feelings on my own, without constant feedback from my friends and family.  I guess it doesn't make a lot of sense to post those things on the internet, but I find it easier to consolidate my writings in one place.

Oh right; also everyone loves me, so of course they'd want to hear what I'm doing at all momens.  Clearly.

I'm usually only willing to try things I already know how to do

I'd like to submit for your approval my hatred for Seth Marlow, a new friend of mine and Pop's regular who started the staff on the Hundred Push Up Challenge.  

Okay, I obviously don't hate him, but I do hate pushups, and so I'm not terribly keen on embarking on this fitness experiment.  My main reason for doing it (and coincidentally my top reason for hating it) is that it's semi-public.  We all report our progress to one another, and the only thing worse than reporting a poor job is reporting nothing at all.  Since I haven't yet mastered self-discipline, peer pressure is a great alternative, and I'm way more likely to stick with it this way.

It only makes sense to put it here, where everyone else can see it.  The more embarrassing it is, the better.  So, here goes.

My initial test resulted in 19 push ups.

Day one of training: 10, 10, 8, 6, 13.

I take back what I said. I really do hate Seth. Thanks a lot.

Fluffernutters and Grilled Cheese Sandwiches

The other day at work, Anna comes into the back room to tell me the story behind two people who were sitting at the counter.  It was a man and a woman, fairly young, and clearly on a date.  Anna tells me that not too long ago, the guy used to come in here with a different woman, and they had a cute habit of getting a fluffernutter sandwich and a grilled cheese, and splitting them.  Afterwards they'd play a game of Blink, one of the games we had on the game shelf that's a bit like Uno.

This, however, was a new girl.  Anna wonders why he was here with someone else, and figures that they must have broken up, and he is out with this new woman.  It's a sad situation to begin with, but things only went down from there.  The man tries in vain to recreate his cute habit with the new girl, but things don't seem to work out.  To begin with, the girl has a peanut allergy.  She wouldn't be able to split a sandwich with him - at least not a fluffernutter.  When he tries to order one anyway, she gives him a look - you're getting something with peanut?  Heartbreaking.

As she looks over the menu, she announces another unfortunate fact - she also happens to be lactose intolerant.  Pretty big deal when we mostly serve ice cream and grilled cheese sandwiches.  As she special-orders her sandwich, he resigns himself to a meal completely unlike the one he anticipated.  

But Blink! Blink might save the date.  He breaks out the deck and they begin to play.  After a few attempts to teach her and let her get the hang of the game, they begin to play, and she (of course) ends up being no good.  He comments that it's amazing that she has five unplayable cards left over after the round - he'd never seen it before.

I don't know why I insisted on writing this down.  I think it's just because Anna seemed sad that the guy wasn't still with the first girl.  Even though I'd never seen the guy before in my life and didn't talk to him or his new date, the fact that he was trying to recreate his date with the first girl struck me.  It makes me think that he probably didn't want things to end - maybe she had to move, or she got tired of the relationship and ended it; I don't know.  When every aspect of the date went opposite the way it was supposed to, I felt defeated, even though I had nothing to do with any of it.

I think everyone tries to hold on to some memory of past relationships.  We romanticize and soften the edges of each image so we can look back on them with fondness.  These memories can become a part of us, ingrained to the point where we might not even remember where they came from or why we retain such fond associations with random things like fluffernutter sandwiches.  I wonder if this man tried to recreate his memories with his girl because he's not over her, or because he just doesn't know what else to do; maybe those two are the same thing.

I don't really know if that man was happy on his date, or with his old girlfriend, or this new one.  Maybe he just really likes fluffernutters.  But I know there are things in my life that I like, that I look fondly upon because of the people I've dated.  You take a piece of those people with you wherever you go, worn proudly on your chest like badges.  And like a badge, you wear it because it means (or meant) something special to you.  When others see it, though, they learn something about you.  That's the moment when your experiences and memories with others, those parts of them, become a part of you.

Upgrade/Downgrade

Hey peeps - 

Upgrade:

• Scanned pictures of my parents' wedding today.
• Watched a Netflix movie, breaking my expensive streak of leaving them on my nightstand.
• Mapped out my entire day tomorrow so I'll be all upgrades and no downgrades.

Downgrade:

• Totally ignored the pushup challenge until just now, even though I'm reminded at work every day.
• Ate like four slices of pizza after work after I decided I was done eating for the day.
• Ignored this blog until just now.
• Stole a packet of sour patch kids from my brother.  Delicious, but wrong.
• Already broke my plan for tomorrow by staying up past midnight.

I think we can chalk this one up to failure.