Ode to

I cannot believe I have not written a bit since August. My life is entirely new, and perhaps that's why I've been neglecting this hobby of mine that is so essential to my wellbeing. When I am happy it's hard to write... perhaps that's why all the best artists were always alcoholics and suicide victims. When I start to feel lost I remember that writing is what I need. For me it's like a cool rag to the forehead during a fever; as the words flow, the temperature slowly fades into a peaceful rest.

I have many updates as you might've guessed since I haven't written in over four months. 2008 is approaching and I have a great deal on my mind. Living in Los Angeles is a wonderful and difficult thing all at once. I feel so stressed, overwhelmed, and somewhat lost one minute and perfectly at home the next. In fact, often those feelings intertwine in the same instant. I miss having my friends and family around me all the time. I'm really excited to take some time off and see everyone. I realize how truly independent I am now but that doesn't necessarily mean I feel good about it. I feel accomplished and happy but wish that I had someone to share all of it with. I know this is not a profound revelation by any means but the simplest of human needs. Perhaps I should take a few steps back and maybe get to the point... or digress from it I dunno.

In July of 2006 I was preparing myself to travel to West Africa for four months, where this blog began actually. It was an incredibly intense and strange time in my life. My nerves were a wreck, I was chain smoking constantly, living alone, and wondering what my life was going to look like in a couple of months when I wandered into a complete unknown. I knew the next year was going to be full of change and I didn't know at all in what direction. I majored in African Studies in school and going to Africa was the culmination of those years of my life. Going would determine if my college career had been appropriate or not. So, when I met a boy that summer, very unexpectedly on the street in my small college town one night, who wound up being my neighbor, it led to an interesting period in my life.

I'm not writing to write about Africa, or even about that boy really. I'm just writing to clear my head. To remember myself. I'm writing to unravel the many days that have passed when words have not flown from my fingers as I have mulled over the many thoughts of each day and lacked an outlet. I'm also writing to tell a story of who I was, who I am, and who I'd like to be, and to see if those people have anything in common with one another.

So, last July I found Benny on Court Street. He was quiet and subdued at first, which really sheds a lot of light on the person I now realize I don't understand at all. I suppose I have to admit that he was from day one, pretty damned ambiguous. Benny was by no means the ideal guy for me. He certainly didn't treat me the way I deserved to be treated. He'd disappear for weeks at a time with no call, no contact. He'd call in the middle of the night, high on coke and drunk on Jack Daniels and ask me to come and pick him up. I was stupid and gave in. He met me at a very vulnerable time in my life, when I was scared and lonely and needed desperately to feel any possible connection with another person. When he wasn't being downright awful he did have his moments of charm as well. He made me laugh and he made me think about things in a new way. He treated me like an old friend and I felt an immediate comfort around him. For a few months we ran to and fro between each other's houses in the middle of the night. We'd fight and then make up and then make love and then we'd spend the day sleeping, say goodbye and not ask when we'd talk again or what we were doing later. The moments together were what they were, we didn't ask about the past, or even about the present, we simply lent ourselves to one another without question or curiosity. One night, though, I really needed someone... and he came. He comforted me. My grandma was sick and he had lost his and he got it completely. His tattoo for her was evidence of their bond and we had that in common.

A month passed and my time began to wane. My fear was growing ferociously and my excitement was building. Benny and I bade each other goodbye without much consequence. I honestly didn't believe I'd ever see him again. You see, we went to school in Ohio but while I was moving to Africa he was moving to California and if you're American then you know that Ohio- Africa is just about as far as Ohio-California. And yet I went, somewhat reluctantly, in the opposite direction of this new and interesting person to fulfill my dream. A person who I knew was probably bad for me but who excited me and made me feel something I have only felt a couple times in my life. I'm not being articulate here because I still to this day cannot describe that feeling further because I simply don't understand it.

I went to Africa in September and moved in with a Senegalese family. My host brother pursued me almost immediately and I tried to resist him. He was persistent, however, and I wound up breaking one of the cardinal rules of host family life and having an incredibly serious relationship with my sibling. I felt that I was in love. I don't know anymore if I was or not. It's impossible to understand all the feelings I was going through during that time in my life and if what we shared was love I just don't know anymore. I'd like to think that it was, though. It was a strained love, however. It was on a limited time only basis and though I tried to plan for a future with Alex a part of me always knew that was the case. And so I looked on and wondered what life would be like in the future, in America, in Ohio... and I wondered about Benny. We sent a few messages while I was overseas but it felt as impossible as my relationship with Alex was since coming back to Ohio still meant a huge chasm between us.

My life changed so much in Africa... I've talked about that in many blogs past and it feels so far gone that I wish not to discuss it now because it will only serve to torment my emotions even further. I came home almost exactly a year ago now and spent several weeks feeling utterly lousy. I missed my boyfriend and felt so empty and helpless to change what had become of us. I felt a loss, as if something had died. I suppose it had really... not just something, but a part of myself. So, as time passed and the reality of my life here began to set in I ended my relationship with Alex, which by that point seemed almost silly. I hated to undermine the importance of what we'd had because it was very real at the time. If I hadn't been in love with Alex I certainly loved him. He treated me like a queen and he was a wonderful, hardworking, sincere and kind person. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him except that he lived an ocean away from me on another continent. Such is the downside of traveling I suppose.

Nonetheless, I began talking more frequently to Benny. He said things like, "California is not that far away" and through these chats my curiosity was born again. So for six long months I tried to plan a way out to him. I thought if I could just see him and we could talk, if we could know that the last time we saw each other wasn't the last time, then maybe... maybe something might just really be happening. I couldn't get away from school though and so I was forced to wait until June, after graduation. It was agonizing in some ways. To be back and walk past his old house all the time and wish so much that I could just drop by and see him. Just see him. The waiting continued. Sometimes he would revert to his ways of being inconsiderate. I wouldn't hear from him for long periods of time and I would get determined to forget I ever met him. I would delete his number and try to stop thinking about him and always, like a homing pigeon, in just a few days or hours, always he was right there with a call or a text as if he knew that at that moment I was forgetting.

So in June I came to California and I was nauseous when he came to visit. I was so nervous and excited to see him, it was something I really hadn't expected would happen. We went out that first night and had an okay time, nothing too special. Just getting reacquainted, but as soon as we got in the cab he grabbed my face and kissed me and it just felt so incredibly right, it was spine-tingling. We hung out for the next several days after that, with really no more kissing, but just being together and enjoying each other. I met his mom and saw a new side of him, the side that I had only glimpsed in Ohio but that had kept me interested. I had an incredible time with him. I felt so content. Just as if I didn't care what anyone else in the world was doing when he was there; I was grounded.

And then once again we said goodbye. It was more difficult this time because it had been so perfect. Our time together so absolutely good. Leaving felt like tearing off a band-aid. One you try to leave on to avoid the sting as long as possible. I went back to Ohio and I waited again. A couple months later I got in my car with my father and we drove west for six days with whatever belongings I could squeeze.

I didn't move for Benny. I have loved the very idea of California for as long as I can remember. I longed to go to school here but couldn't afford it. Moving here seemed like a dream but when my brother did it two years ago it became more like a possibility. My week with Benny helped to make my decision a little easier. It was nice to know I'd have a good friend nearby and it definitely strengthened the wondering of what might be if we were in the same state again and not going anywhere for a while. Yet regardless of him California has made me indescribably happy since the day I started towards it. Everyday I look out my kitchen window, drive south a little and see the beautiful Hollywood hills in the distance, or go to Venice and see all the diversity and watch the beach at sunset, I know I made the right choice in coming here. I don't know how long I'll stay but I don't regret it a bit.

I came with no idea of what I'd do with myself and I've done really well. I got a part time job tutoring kids in math and language arts and then began volunteering at Relief International and interning at Amnesty International. After a couple months I got an offer from my current employer, Peace Action West, as a Development Associate. My job is to meet with major donors and update them on our campaigns and successes. The organization has a fascinating history of grassroots work and lobbying. We activate people who may or may not normally be politically active and give them an avenue to participate. We help them connect themselves to the political process in a most basic way that many Americans have forgotten. Through this politicians become accountable again because their constituents are paying attention and participating. We remind people that Congress is representing them and that if they aren't talking they won't be heard. Our goals are to create a better US foreign policy and basically to save the world from assured destruction from war, nuclear weapons, insanity, and greed. It's a great job and I've learned a ton working there. I feel so lucky to have gotten it but it has it's downsides as well.

It's actually a lot more emotionally draining than you'd think to research politics and the state of the world for a living. It's discouraging at times. Sometimes I start to think that maybe there really isn't hope for change. I used to read about politics when I came home from work and watch documentaries, constantly filling my every waking minute with knowledge about the world and the state it's in. Finally I realized that I was going to make myself nuts and socially unacceptable so I decided to start reading a good novel sometimes and occasionally try spending the day not thinking about the big picture and just enjoying life.

I will certainly be writing more about work in the future because it is a huge part of my new life. Right now just isn't the time because I'm distracted.

So, now here I am in California, working full time, not seeing Benny, not even sure if Benny thinks of me beyond the confines of his friendly obligations. I'm going back to Ohio in three days for the holidays and I have never felt that I needed a vacation so badly. The real world is slapping me in the face with loan repayments and bills and I never seem to even come close to catching up. I wanted to be in Africa again by now, in the Peace Corps. I'm fine with this alternative for now but I'm not sure what I'm doing. I'm teetering. I don't need to decide anything now but I wonder, will I stay at Peace Action for more than a year? Will I join the Peace Corps even though I began reading that book that talks about how terrible it is? Will I do it just because I really want to go to grad school and don't see how I can if I don't join? Am I beginning to settle someplace? That frightens me.

And anyway, I feel it's time to start over... start over without that feeling of waiting for him. I had this sense that I was just waiting my turn and then I'd have my chance to find out what we missed out on when I flew away last year. Our timing was never right and I was just waiting for that to change. A part of me hoped he might want that somehow too. That perhaps there was a connection that could transcend time and distance but, I think it's time to let go of that. I think it's been way too long and that perhaps I have been very wrong the whole time.

That kiss we had in the cab, that night he came over and stayed up all night talking to me to make me forget that my grandma was sick, that night we trekked to Venice beach and laid there less time than it took to get the 18 buses home, all those minutes of insanity and bliss all mixed together in a cocktail of feeling, it's definitely not easy for me to let go of. But, alas- it is the new year so I suppose there's no better time to try.

Just Dad and me

Bah! So much has changed in my life in so little time that it doesn't feel at all like reality. I am here in Los Angeles for almost a full week now. The rest of the drive out was phenomenal and I will never ever forget getting to do that with my dad.

After the last time I wrote things got even more interesting on our trip. When we began our drive from Cincinnati I had noticed an unusual noise in my front tire. The car had just had a great deal of work done on it and so I hoped that it was simply tightness from the new brakes or something of that nature. My dad said, "If it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen out there" (because he thinks he's Captain Ron) and so we decided to get on the road. By Oklahoma City the noise was getting much harder to ignore and I was getting worried so we went to a Firestone. They had a three hour wait before they could even take a look at it and since we had a lot of miles left to go we weren't really up to chilling that long. The guy did come out and peek under the car and check a few things on the wheel and assured us that as far as he could tell there was nothing seriously wrong. However, by the time we started driving the rest of the way through New Mexico it was apparent that something was in fact seriously wrong. I called ahead to a Firestone in Gallup, New Mexico because it was the next relatively big town. My father, who had been so optimistic before, was now beginning to worry more than me and say things like, "we're never going to make it all the way to Gallup". But alas, by the grace of whomever we did and as we pulled into the Firestone my car sounded like the biggest hoopty you've ever heard. We found out the problem was a wheel baring and within a few hours the guy was able to fix it at a pretty reasonable cost. While waiting everyone we came across started talking about the big parade that was set to happen in Gallup that night.

Gallup is right in the heart of Indian Nation, as they call it, and we had randomly shown up on the day of the 86th annual Indian ceremonial parade in which Native Americans from all over the country come to dress up and dance for the hordes of townspeople who fill the streets. We had only put in four hours of driving time that day but there was no way we could miss this so we visited a local pub, met some people at the bar and had a few brewskies and then watched the festivities. It was so fun to see an entire town so excited.

After leaving Gallup we continued westward to our next stop- the painted desert and petrified forest. For three hours we drove through some of the most dramatic and breathtaking scenery I have ever seen. An ancient basin has left behind layer after layer of brilliant colors in rolling hills and deep badlands. If I still used a film camera it would've cost me an arm and a leg to develop all the exposures I took and yet none of the pictures can do the reality justice. If a picture is worth a thousand words then seeing it with your own eyes isn't worth any because it renders you speechless.

Finally we drove to Flagstaff and up into the mountains and to the Grand Canyon. It would take a great deal longer to give that great big rivet in the earth the appropriate amount of attention but I was thrilled to get to see it for a couple hours. Unfortunately, my dad's health was a factor impending my ability to really enjoy the Canyon. Which brings me to a serious issue in my life as I'm getting older.

My father is one of the most amazing men I have ever encountered in my life. He inspires me to find a man who respects women and treats me well. He inspires me to treat all people well. He has so much to do with the person I have become today and will continue to grow into as time passes, which is somewhat ironic given our dramatically different approaches and views on just about every touchy subject.

As a child it is difficult to see the true humanity that is in all persons, but especially that which exists in our parents. Looking back I realize that to some degree I sincerely believed in my youth that my father was something of a superhero. A builder by profession, I saw him shape raw materials into structures. In our small town everyone knew him making it difficult to ever go out without his interacting with a handful of people. He was always kind and funny to every friend or stranger he came across. My family often wonders why I am so trusting and social but looking at him it is so obvious. Our 'annual' pig roasts complete with tons of grub and drink and even hay rides drew hundreds of people to our house. The parties every Christmas for two days filled the rooms with laughter, song, love, and tons of people making it hard for me to understand Christmas for anyone being anything less than an enormous celebration. Dad was always the vibrant host, cook, and creator of the secret 'recipe', an eggnog known to have knocked many on their butts over the years and even rumored to have led to one of my cousins. When any toy I had became broken, no matter how or what the problem I left it on the counter for Dad and awoke the next day to a perfectly good plaything. I firmly believed that my father could do just about anything, even buying into his story about how he hung the moon each night from his giant ladder in the barn.

As the years past and childhood drifted a lot of hard realities creeped into the picture I had of my father. The hardest being a very serious addiction to alcohol. What I hadn't known and still continue to understand more and more as I grow into a woman is the incredible loneliness that existed in my home. My mother did everything in the world for my brother and I. My father was a provider, a wonderful man, a fun person, and a hero to me but he was owned by an illness that few understand who haven't been so intimate with it. He loved and still loves my mother with all of his heart but alcohol had a hold on him that prevented him from being the husband and father my mother had dreamed of. After 20 long years of enduring a very painful situation my mother made the very difficult decision to get out of it. Their divorce when I was 12 was incredibly hard on my father. The Kenny Chesney song That's why I'm here (http://www.songmeanings.net/lyric.php?lid=124871) rings poignantly true for loved ones of alcoholics, and for my father the most important lines of that song were " I know for us it may be too late, But it would mean the world to me If you were there when I stand to say: It's the simple things in life Like the kids at home and a loving wife That you miss the most, when you lose control and everything you love starts to disappear, the devil takes your hand says 'have no fear, have another shot; just one more beer".

The end of my parents marriage was a blow I don't think my father truly ever recovered from. When the door had closed on the opportunity to bring any hope into their relationship he lost hope in everything else for many years. Our relationship with one another was tumultuous during that dark time in his life. We would sometimes go months without speaking, sometimes only speak to argue about his life choices. I felt bitter, abandoned, betrayed. My Superman had fallen and I was too young to understand the real dimensions of what had taken him from me.

Now here I am, I am grown. I am older than my mother was when my parents were married and yet I don't feel adult enough to make many decisions at all. Yet, I am old enough to see how we are all flawed, all prone to err, even prone to lose control. Each decision we make effects our lives in ways big and small and sometimes I may take years to really see the results. I now feel nothing but enormous love and tenderness towards my aging father. Our drive across the country together was probably the most time we've ever shared all at once. We talked, we laughed, we saw the country and I am so grateful for it. My heart broke a little for I know my father may not have much time left and that our drive may be one of the last great memories I get to have of him. His hair, nearly all turned to gray now, his aging body which seems to shrivel up more and more and to betray him with the great pain it causes him to suffer. A lifelong smoker he becomes easily short of breath. By 9 pm each night he is difficult to communicate seriously with because of the amount of bourbon he has already consumed throughout the course of the day. Through it all he is still my hero. It is obvious he cares not for himself but for his family and loved ones. A part of me resents him for not trying harder to be around to walk me down the isle or see his future grandbabies, or just to be there for John and I for plenty of visits back to Ohio. Yet, I know we cannot force people to change their lives and to worry constantly about them doing so will only be a burden on ourselves and them. I hope deeply that my father is around for all of those things for I see now that I love him even more than I ever knew before. Regardless, our six days of driving into the sun will forever bring a smile to my face and a tear to my eye and remind me to be a better person regardless of who I am.

O Beautiful for spacious skies

The past two days have been the most exciting I've had in a while. Monday at around 4 pm my dad and I climbed into my loaded down 96' Ford Contour (Julie) that has only a smidgen of life left in her and began our cross-country journey to Los Angeles. We drove through Indiana and Illinois and stopped in Missouri for the evening. My brother made this drive almost exactly 2 years ago but he made it all the way to Oklahoma City the first day, intent on making the most of his waking hours and getting to California as quickly as possible. My dad and I aren't concerned with time, though money is a tiny issue for we poor folk. We want to see the country and so far it's been absolutely incredible. I have been on four continents and in major cities around the globe but have never driven past Chicago, or been in any state past Illinois aside from California until now. I really had no clue how incredibly vast and breathtaking this country really is.

Monday night we stayed at the prestigious Congress Inn... or at least maybe it was when it was built some decades ago, but it was decent enough. After breakfast at the Cracker Barrel (maybe my favorite vacation restaurant) we headed into St. Louis and visited the arch. I flew over it a number of years ago when one of my first international trips had a layover in St. Louis but really knew nothing of the historical and cultural symbolism it held. As I stood before the 630 foot stainless steel structure representing the gateway to the west for travelers gone long before myself I realized it was the turning point in which I crossed into a new chapter of my very own life.

After checking out the museum for a tad we hit the road on into Oklahoma and spent the night in Oklahoma City. This morning we visited the cowboy museum (mostly for my dad) which was definitely one of the most well-done museums I've ever seen. It included absolutely beautiful gardens and countless exhibits including a done-to-scale western town where we asked some folks to snap this pic of us in the county jail.

After the museum I wanted to see the National Memorial for the victims of the Oklahoma City bombing. I don't know what I expected. For most of my life when I've heard mention of Oklahoma the first thing that came to mind was that horrific day. I was just about to turn 10 years old when and had stayed the night at my grandparents' house. I remember waking up to the continuous stream of images from the scene. My grandmother explained that some terrible person or people had set off a bomb killing many and injuring more. As I watched the scenes of rescuers pulling bloody shocked victims from the carnage and saw children even younger than myself I had so many questions. I didn't understand. Someone had done this terrible thing on purpose?


Visiting the memorial today was heartbreaking and eerie. Being in the place, in a city only slightly larger than Cincinnati, where on a regular morning people going about their regular morning routines had their lives shattered or lost put into perspective the way in which we take our own undisturbed routines for granted.

The symbolic memorial they've created does a great deal to honor the victims without erasing the horror and sadness of that day. The empty chairs stretched the length of the building represent the presence of the absence of those lost, with 19 small chairs for the children. On each end of the yard there is a gateway with a time engraved on it's face- one reads 9:01, the minute before the bomb exploded, the other 9:03- the minute after.



The survivor tree, as it has come to be known, was the only remaining tree around the building which actually caught fire when cars in the parking lot surrounding it did, the blackened bark evidence of its suffering and that which it witnessed. When first approaching the exhibit there was a charred odor in the air and though it is unlikely to be related to the blast now 12.5 years ago it triggered an even stronger emotional response.


The speaker we heard described 9:01 as the minute before innocence was lost. For me that took on even deeper meaning. At age 9 that bombing was the first real glimpse I'd had of pure unexplained evil. It was the beginning of the end of my own innocence and seeing it today solidified that.

Oklahoma City is no longer just a community of people who in my mind are constantly trying to overcome their worst tragedy. It is a unique, interesting place with friendly people that suffered an incredible, unimaginable tragedy the likes of which can never be fully understood by any normal human being. It will take much longer than 12.5 years for the wounds to fully heal from that awful event, proven by the man working at the cowboy museum who explained to us that his barber's granddaughter was the deceased child in the arms of the firefighter in the famous picture below. Yet the people of that city are united and strong, probably stronger for the grief they endured together. Their hope is visible and their kindness prevails. For Oklahoma and this country it was a historical moment that effected many lives and for myself it was a frightening glance at what pain life can dole out so unjustly.

Tonight we are camped out in the rather fine Comfort Inn in Santa Rosa, New Mexico. Traveling through Texas was beautiful and I can't wait to see what landscape rolls out before us on tomorrow's drive.

If you're American and you've never taken a cross-country drive I strongly encourage you to add it to your list of things to do before you die, and make it sooner than later.

Life 101

I have been out of college a month and a half and I feel burnt out on reality. I'm frustrated and discouraged. I feel like I'm watching my dreams become more and more unrealistic. I'm angry and feel deceived. I went to college for four years so I could spend my life doing something I enjoy but I feel as if the people along the path to get me here never told the whole truth. They all made it seem like going to school was like opening this great door into a realm of endless possibility.I did so much throughout college, working my ass off. Between the Global Leadership Center, studying abroad twice, working at the restaurant, being in Alpha Phi Omega, starting STAND and a slew of miscellaneous other things I barely had time to sleep. I put myself through all this misery to wind up nearly $30,000 in debt and living at my parents house wondering if I should've gotten another waitressing job before picking up and moving across the country with no job or money.

Where was the honesty about the number of interviews, the dumb questions I'd be forced to answer on the spot, the waiting and waiting... and more waiting just to hear that someone 'more qualified' was chosen? Why didn't they explain that even though you go to college nearly every employer is going to want someone with 1-5 years of experience in the field? If I had known that I guess I would've tried getting a real job while I was in the middle of trying to be a full time student. Just how exactly is anyone supposed to get this experience anyway if no one will let them work for them without it?

To top off the stress of having -$30,000 and rising... or... lowering.... err.... anyway- I now have my family trying to pour it on thick with the guilt I should feel for moving to the other side of the country. Forget being grateful for me not moving to China or someplace back in Africa or anyplace else in the entire world. I think to them it's about the same. I don't understand... I thought this is what people do. We grow up and we outgrow our beginnings. Home towns are just starting places to send us on to something more. To prepare us, mold us into our future selves. What good is that if my future self is here now and can't go and face the rest of this incredibly vast place in which we live? I know that many if not most people are satisfied with that staying put and there's nothing wrong with that. It just isn't and hasn't ever been for me. The thought of it scares me half to death. It feels like stagnation. I want to go on to more adventures and new people where I can keep on changing, growing, learning. I'm not ready to believe that college was the best years of my life and that carefree time in my life is over.

Being around my family is somewhat of a downer. They seem so cynical. I know that I'm young and naive but I want to be old and naive one day. Sometimes it's like they're trying to break my spirit. I say that I believe in things like equality and volunteering, that I'm a bit of a Marxist. I believe in having a job that pays less but does more for the world and mankind. I care about things like human beings instead of things like money. They treat me like some dumb kid who just doesn't get it yet. Part of me thinks they're right, that one day I'll just buy in- sell out. I'll give up the persistent hoping and just buy a house and do the 'normal' crap.

How do we ever know our true limitations until we have pushed ourselves to them? I have such big dreams of giving it my all and really changing the world, even if it's just a tiny ripple. I feel them starting to die and I need to build a resistance. Our whole lives people fill us with all this hope that we can do absolutely anything with our dreams. Maybe I never released the childlike beliefs that all those posters from QUEST class instilled in me.

In a way I feel cheated by all the inspirational messages over the years. Everyone so filled with faith and belief in my potential and the certainty of my bright future. Perhaps all that pampering filled me with undue confidence. I always believed strongly that I was supposed to do something important, big. What if I was just supposed to be average?

I wish sometimes that I hadn't been so spoiled and that I knew that now that I have to I can make it out there on my own. Out in the big cruel reality of things. I think that some hard knocks would've made my writing better at the very least. My life hasn't been perfect but I'd say it's been just short. Now my standards are so high for the future. I don't want to settle for less than the job of my dreams or for less than... my dreams themselves. I just beg of all powers that be that something good comes out of the experience of moving to Los Angeles. That it isn't a mistake made based on one of my many whimsical decisions. This isn't whimsical- it's huge. The biggest risk I've ever taken and... well, I'm afraid of failure like everybody else. Los Angeles, brace yourself cause I'm coming with high expectations.

Many Mes

Wow, when I look back just a little bit over a month ago and think about what my life was like it's kind of disconcerting. I mean, I went from going out like almost every night of the week to barely even going out... ever. I go to sleep early, hang out with my parents and grandparents (as shown above), and I really don't even miss Athens. How can I do that? Sometimes I expect to feel sad about things- big changes like moving, graduating, leaving good friends... but lately it just seems I don't. Sometimes it kind of frightens me to feel so hardened. To want a new life so badly.

I had lunch with Steph the other day. She's one of my favorite people and I can't get enough of the way we can go forever without talking and pick right back up where we left off whenever we finally get in touch again. Yet, we started talking about the past and I realized how weird it is to think about sometimes. I don't really ever do it anymore, just stop and look back. I'm kind of glad. I have really nothing to complain about regarding the way my life has panned out but sometimes looking back on anything can be saddening. Mostly anymore though, it's just strange for me.

I feel like over the years I have been so many different people. I don't feel like a single individual who grew up and changed, I feel like a lot of people in one body. When I look back on some of my experiences and times in my life I just can't even believe that it was me. It's literally shocking sometimes.

When I first got to Senegal I experienced some of the hardest days of my entire life. I was terrified, alone, confused, and a minority for the first time. I honestly had serious doubts about being able to hack it four months. Yet, I did. I survived finding out that my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer while being 4,000 miles away. I survived rarely ever communicating in my own language, showering with 2 inch long cockroaches by candlelight and sometimes out of a bucket. I survived living with a family that wasn't my own and who lived incredibly differently from anything I had ever known. I made it through Dr. Evil and terrible queasiness and managed to clean wounds, give injections, observe gyno exams and child births, and managed to keep a smile when I sometimes felt rather foreign or awkward. I survived public transportation and crossing roads I thought certain would be the end of me. I managed to take care of myself when I had to leave my home in the middle of the night. And once I even scraped through a close encounter with a stampeding herd of sheep that seemed determined to mow over me.

I guess it's impossible to come out of that the same person. When I got home I really had no idea what to do with everything in my head. I still don't know. For months any pictures of Senegal or memories of my time there broke my heart and brought tears immediately to my eyes. I felt almost nauseous with longing to still be there inundated by the incredible people and their lives. That went on and I wasn't sure it would ever end. All the MSIDers would talk online, on the phone, and in person all the time about how strong that feeling was within all of us to just get back there. Then one day, it seems so suddenly, it just stopped. The whole experience sort of drifted into this new category of personal history. All the sudden it was as though I had never been there at all.

Sure, I always sort of felt that way. Even while I was there that feeling was somewhat present. Every morning I had to wake up and remind myself where I was. Every morning. Now, though, I don't even know what to make of it. I was obviously a totally other me. I was contemplating marriage for God's sake! Now I can't even imagine what Alex feels like. What was it like when I was with him? What did his skin feel like to me? It's like I have no recollection- they aren't my memories. It's frightening really. Scary to think that a feeling that had once had the power to fill me up so completely vanished into nothingness.

All the good intentions before I left to call all my friends, write, send pictures and presents, they faded. I feel like a phony. Yass and Bo, they were like my brothers there. I had a blast with them and they let me live in their home, sleep in their bed, eat their food, and carried the bucket to the shower for me every night without fail. They are incredible guys and when I start to remember the time I spent with them I do feel deeply sad but most of the time those thoughts are absent. It's as if the memories got boxed up inside me and I only find them when I'm reorganizing.

Now, here I am, in that place again. My friends from college are spread about and Athens is like a Norman Rockwell painting in my head and nothing more. It has the last and best four years of my history and yet I can drum up no emotion at the thought of it.


In a week and a half I'm moving to Los Angeles and even that future doesn't seem real. Lately the present is all that exists for me. I'm leaving my family, friends indefinitely and yet... all I can think about is going going going! There's no fear or restraint. No thinking of my grandparents and their illnesses or my father and his loneliness, or one of my best friend's pregnancy. I don't know who I am. Where is the fear, where is the heart?

I spent four years becoming intensely passionate about human rights and equality and Africa and now I'm moving to a city where people spend hundreds of dollars on dog collars. I might end up being a waitress- a job I just spent the last two years eager to escape from. I might wind up doing something that has absolutely nothing to do with what I care about. I think I even turned down a job in Connecticut actually doing what I want so badly to be doing. I don't know if I'm making any of the right decisions and I really don't even know what my motivations are. I'm scared I might be messing up everything by being impulsive. I'm scared period.

It's so strange to feel you're in a place where your dreams are finally going to either come true or they aren't. I'm so grateful that so many of mine already have been realized but all of the things I did before now were to get me to a specific place. I know I've always had a lot of doubts about the field I chose but when it came down to it I knew it's what I love. It's what I not just love even- it's where my passion lies. And passion is greatly capable. I just want to know that I will find my way- that I will find myself in all of this. That I'm not making the biggest mistake of my life.... I don't want reality to be such a gamble. I just want certainty and security.

I wish sometimes that I hadn't been so spoiled all my life. I don't know what I would've been able to accomplish if not for my family. Alison did it all on her own and that's amazing. There's a certain grace and pride in that. In some ways I don't really know what I myself am capable of. Maybe that's why I am so eager to break away and test the waters of my own strength. I did that in Africa, but this will be in an entirely new way. This will be the test of adulthood and character. I guess sometimes we have to disconnect to reconnect with ourselves. Maybe a part of myself has long been pulled toward California and now I have to stop resisting that pull and just... float on.

Exciting Ohio

Well, another day inches along at the rents' place. Time is flying while at the same time seeming to stand still. I didn't expect to be keeping as busy as I have been since graduating and leaving Athens but I'm definitely ready for a change. Moving back in with my parents has been surprisingly relaxing but also a frustration. Everyday things are alright I suppose; you can't beat the endless coffee, 3 squares a day, and lack of utility bills, and living someplace that isn't most likely to collapse within the decade is certainly a perk. It's just the transition from living on my own/surrounded by only people my own age for four years to living with my mom breathing down my neck at every turn and volunteering me for all sorts of family activities that sometimes makes me want to scream.

In the past six months I have officially made plans to move to Senegal, China, anywhere Peace Corps, Connecticut, Los Angeles, and now possibly New York. I am a mess. The level of freedom after college is somewhat daunting. To actually be capable of choosing anyplace in the world to start a new life is a strange sensation. Getting out of college is not at all like I expected, though. Or maybe it's just not what I'd hoped for. Every job, even administrative, wants you to have 5 years experience in the field but how is anyone supposed to get that experience if no one will hire a new graduate? I've gotten so used to rejection in the past 2 months it's not funny. I'm sick to death of revising my cover letter and sending out my resume, of interviewing over the phone and anyplace else. Hell, I had a four hour second round interview in Los Angeles and didn't get an offer. How discouraging! I just want a job before I get trapped in Ohio like so many people do. Right now I'm pretty broke but at least my loans are still deferred. I did so many things in college I just don't know what more I could possibly do to be a better candidate for the positions I want.

After my trip to LA I had decided, for certain, that I was just going to get in my car and drive across the country, move in with my brother and hope for a job. I was disappointed not to have found a decent one while I was out there but it was a relief to really decide on a place. Then, out of the blue I get this e-mail from the human rights organization WITNESS asking me if I want to interview for their administrative/outreach position. It couldn't be a more perfect job but it's located in New York. Now all I can do is sit waiting to hear from them to decide between living in two very different and distant locations. A part of me is sad because I so desperately want to go to Los Angeles where it's sunny and people are laid-back but the rest of me intensely wants this job.

I don't know what it is about myself and Ohio but the place just isn't for me. I mean, I love it here and when I get away for awhile I always appreciate coming back. I'm just burned-out on the small town thing. I need commotion and... well, stuff to do! I think I just have this distinct fear of becoming like George Bailey. I've been so lucky to do all the traveling I've done but I fear winding up stuck here because of this or that. I know that in the end George realized that staying put gave him the "wonderful" life but I always felt sad for him. I couldn't help wondering what his life would have been like if he had gotten to use the engraved suitcase and had been able to fulfill all the dreams he had from his subscription to National Geographic. I just think that life might've had more to offer him than Bedford Falls and the rest of the world has more for me than Ohio.

But man, what a conundrum...

The secret lives of women

Why is it that time and time again myself and I think other women as well, chase after the sort of men who have a certain ability to do things that make us feel like we've just been punched in the gut. An ability to make us wake up after a good dream and cry because there is immediately that truth of the emptiness they've left you with. They are the type that never give themselves fully to one person and maybe you shouldn't take it personally that you are no exception, yet it's hard not to. The type that fifty women are certain they have this very special and unique relationship with, never guessing that there are 49 others feeling the same way about your guy.

Where is the fantasy anymore? We grow up on all these make believe ideas about what love is supposed to be like but I'm not sure if that even exists. Sure, I've seen it, I mean, it's out there. But, is there really a love packaged neatly and available in bulk to the whole world? Or is that only reserved for a very few lucky couples who may really be pulled together by the stars? I'm beginning to believe that it may not be in the cards for me.

No, I'm not a washed-up old lady coming out of a divorce with a bunch of kids or something. In fact, I'm young and cute and confident about it. I'm not even really that cynical. It's just, don't we eventually tire of that winded sensation? You share all these amazing moments with all these different men who may or may not be amazing themselves only to find that they're not for you or just... not for anyone. How long can I wake up feeling that empty feeling without just accepting it and not trying to make it go away?

I don't know what it is about me but there are two things that inevitably happen in my life. The first is that random people always tell me their life stories. I have no idea why. Maybe I have a friendly face or something. I guess I should've tried to be a therapist. Secondly, I always get hurt in relationships. I really don't think about it too much. I've become pretty resilient actually. I mean, I'm not talking about your everyday run-of-the mill boyfriend/girlfriend relationships either. It seems that I am simply unable to even have those at all. My brother loves reminding me of that. The brother who's had a million serious relationships and is ALWAYS in relationship crisis mode. I'm talking relationships that never even become real relationships. Maybe I'm naive I don't know.

I know there's nothing wrong with me, I do, but sometimes it makes me sick to my stomach when time and time again something interferes with my ability to find love or even happiness for a little while. If ever I do manage to find happiness for a brief instant it is almost always clouded over by some distant thing that will ruin it all (i.e. moving away) or is in the end not at all what I thought it was because I find out that none of it was based on reality or truth.

I'm not asking much really. I'm an honest girl er... woman. I would never cheat on a man or lie about anything. I just don't know why there's never been a person who can't get me out of their head. I've had so many of those people in my life and even if they seemed to really care about me for a quick minute in the end I was not worth it. In the end there was always someone else who was. Why is it never me? I mean, let's be honest, no matter how you wrap that up it gets you wondering and brings up at least a little self-doubt.

I'm a very strong and independent woman. I believe that eventually there will be a man who finds me worth whatever it takes. I do fear, however, the walls I will have built up by then. What if by the time Prince Charming actually stops being a fucking toad I'm way too jaded to even try kissing his toad lips? I mean, how long can you keep putting yourself in the line of fire before realizing that it's not worth the risk? Each time it happens it's as though I have to relive every time it has and it's so painful. Even those memories from so long ago.

I know there's a love out there for me. Maybe I'm looking in all the wrong directions. I usually am not even looking for it at all. I just hope that when it comes for me I'm not hiding under some rock where I cannot be found. I hope that it's all that it's cracked up to be and maybe even more. I know I deserve the real deal. The kind that doesn't involve lying and cheating and waking up feeling empty. I deserve pure unadulterated love, no question about that. I just don't understand why there has to be so many bad toads first.

Maybe it's our generation. I feel like it's never been this hard for women before. I mean, back in the day love was simple. Everyone was married when they were like 19 and stayed that way. I guess that when women started wanting more is when things got tougher. I can't complain about trading in the life of Suzy Homemaker to maybe struggle a little harder to have a genuine love. A love that isn't based on who can get Ted's whites the whitest and have his baked chicken on the table when he gets home from work. I'll accept the fight my generation must face for being more in charge and able to really search out the man that gives us the whole package. There was just never so much freedom before. Who knew that could complicate things so much?

When it boils down to it there really isn't much chance for there being such a concept as soul mates. There are plenty of people who would be suitable for any one of us. I mean, I should freaking hope so in this hugely populated earth! If not, we're all in real trouble. I know there are certainly some people that get lucky enough to maybe find a person who fits them like a glove but I think all-in-all we spend too much time looking for something better and sometimes miss out on what's already there. Who knows, I mean, if I could make sense of relationships between men and women I would be a millionaire. Sometimes you just start to feel defeated in the race. How am I supposed to feel comforted by a person in the future who I haven't even met yet? And, when I do meet him how am I supposed to abandon all the doubt and resistance that's built up in me from all the times that it felt right but wasn't before him?

It's just so tiring and yet we put ourselves through it over and over. It's like childbirth. Apparently at some point we forget what that pain can be like. I just hope that also like childbirth there is something that makes it all worthwhile in the end.

LAts of new stuff to think about...

Adulthood is upon me, like it or not. Actually, I think that I do, though. Graduation was June 9th and June 20th I left for LA to visit John and see Benny, who I never planned on seeing again. The trip when far better than I'd hoped and I've decided definitely to move there. It's a strange and exciting feeling. It's like I'm moving on with my life finally. I got trapped here in Ohio for college and though I don't regret my time in Athens at all I do regret somewhat not taking that opportunity to go away. Regardless, my life seems utterly perfect. I couldn't ask for more than the way things are. I have amazing friends and family and the opportunities available to me seem almost endless. It's so strange to be at a place in my life where I am fully in charge and can make any choice I want for myself. Sometimes I just wait for someone to tell me what to do before realizing that it's all me.
Spending time with Benny was awesome awesome awesome. I'm totally crazy about him but it's kind of irrelevant because he has a girlfriend... and a chic on the side. I am so stoked to move out to California and be able to spend more time with him but I definitely don't need that sort of drama from the get-go. We did in fact have a blast together and all without having sex! Who knew that was possible?! I think we're on a great track to an awesome friendship and though I would welcome more than that with him I don't think it'd be good for me because seeing him cheat on his current girlfriend makes it really tough to trust him. I haven't had these feelings for a long time, though, and it does make me a little nervous to feel so vulnerable.
My mom and I went shopping today and had a lot of great conversation. I adore our relationship and I am so lucky to have it. I'm not sure I know anyone else who can talk to their mother about absolutely anything from sex to drugs to religion and politics without her freaking out. I'm so glad I have that.
I think that a part of her wants something to come out of my friendship with Benny maybe just because she knows that I really care about him and she wants to see me happy. It's weird, though. I care about him a ton, that's true, and I would love to call myself his girl but at the same time I don't know if I could ever be in a position to trust him enough for that even if it was what he wanted. I've finally come to a place in my life where I truly love and respect myself, flaws and all and I refuse to settle for less than what I know I deserve from men. It's not arrogance, it's simply confidence. I don't deserve to be used or hurt in any way because that's not how I treat people and you deserve to get what you give out. I know that eventually I will meet someone who turns everything around for me.
I used to be cynical because I was hurt so many times in the past but I'm not anymore. Living with Megan and talking often about what it's like to be single in a country where that's so taboo almost made me realize so many things. There were nights when Megan and I would admit that having been single most of our lives we couldn't help asking ourselves, what's wrong with me? The truth is, there's nothing wrong with me. I'm a normal girl and there is a man out there for me. Maybe not just one man. If not for the many men I've cared about over the years I would've missed out on learning and growing in so many ways. I can sit and name a million ways I was effected by John, Caleb, Jason, Howie, Doug, Adam, Dave, Alex, Billy, Casey, Zach, and Benny... there are probably even more in there someplace. But to think that at the time I was with all of those guys I couldn't imagine caring so much for anyone else and yet I was able to. I remember when Billy went away to college and I was so heartbroken and mom was taking me to get my senior pictures and she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it now but Billy is just a speck and eventually he won't mean anything. You will probably have a hundred boyfriends before you ever get married". I remember saying that I didn't want a hundred boyfriends, or to keep having to have my heart broken, but each time I've loved someone and let them go I've grown stronger, more independent, smarter, and more adult. Heartbreak is just a part of life. I accept that now.
I don't know where things will go with Benny. Maybe we will just rest as great friends and for that I cannot complain. He makes me laugh, he makes me giddy, I love his life, and when he touches me or kisses me I get tingly. I still get butterflies whenever he texts or calls or I'm about to see him. But, if we dated maybe that would all end another way and all that would go away. Maybe to be as we are now is the best way for us to be. Eventually once I've moved out to California I will begin dating and I will find someone who doesn't want me as a third girlfriend but as their only one. Until then I refuse to settle for second string or for a fuck buddy status.
I feel happier and stronger and more vibrant than ever in my life. I can't wait to get back under the California sun and be able to call it home for a little while. I think that moving there is going to effect my life in a million ways and I can't wait to see who I turn into next. Life rocks my socks!

And we're back

I don't know why I haven't written in so long. I guess looking back on last quarter it was because I was practically committing suicide to get things completed. No additional time for blogging. Now, here I am, spring quarter, where all that work is supposed to have paid off because I have basically zip to do. As it turns out I'm bored out of my skull and have serious cabin fever from staying home for three days.

All that time is way too much to spend thinking about things that make me miserable. Like the fact that in two months I'm leaving Athens for good- the place I've called home for four years. Not to mention that I have no idea what I'm delving into next. There's a very good possibility that it'll be going to China to teach English which means that in four months I'm going to be once again in a state of complete and utter terror because I'm going someplace where I know absolutely no one and, worse than any of my past experiences, also know nothing of the language and very little about the country.

I am not whining really. I love my life and I wouldn't trade it for anyone else's. I choose to travel and put myself in situations like that and after the adjustment phase is complete I'm always glad I made that decision. The problem with being a born wanderer is that no matter where you are, you're always longing to be someplace else. I feel like I'm never fully content. In everything I do there is this tiny level of dissatisfaction with it. If I'm too busy I'm miserable and yet now I have so much free time and I feel like I might go mad. If I'm in Athens I wish I was in Cincinnati but if I'm in Cincinnati too long I wish I was back here. I miss Senegal so much it actually physically hurts to think about it too much but when I was there I couldn't help feeling a little homesick and ready to get back here.

Does anyone have satisfaction in life? Is it only that I have no constants that I feel choked by it? There is so much pressure to do this or that or be this person or that person and I feel drowned by it all. I'm about to graduate and the time for proving myself in the real world is soon to arrive. Maybe I'm not ready for it. I don't know how often I go home and curl up in the bed upstairs at my mom's house just watching television and my mom brings me a cup of coffee or breakfast or something and the cat jumps onto my lap and then my heart breaks because in a matter of hours I'll be getting in my car to come back here. I just wish I could stay in that bed and shut out adulthood for a few more years. I'm not ready to accept the responsibility that comes with all these truths I've learned over the years. I'm not ready to accept the truths themselves. It's all so heavy and I feel bogged down.

I wish that finding the answers was easier. I wish that I knew that someday I wouldn't be doing all this alone. I know that I'm strengthened by being single and even if there was a guy in the picture right now I don't think I need a relationship but sometimes you just wish there was another person there to talk to at night and help you wrap your head around things. Growing up really stinks. I don't think I will ever get used to it.

It was business as usual

Today was incredibly interesting. I'm running on very little sleep and a half-sedated mental state from the entire week's happenings. I was picked up at 4:30 this morning by some girls in my Global Leadership program. We drove to the OU airport and met a student's boyfriend where we boarded a six-seater airplane and climbed 10,000 feet. By 6:30 this morning I was watching a beautiful pink sunrise pop up behind the Smokey Mountains.

The more things I do where I find myself needing a suit jacket, or high heels, or nice jewelry the more I feel a certain part of me sliding away. By 8 am we had landed our single engine in Atlanta, Georgia at a small airport where they smacked down one piece of red carpet for us to dismount onto.

At 9:30 I was sitting in a cafe in the Olympic Centinniel Park in downtown eating a blueberry muffin and talking politics and feeling giddy from the two cups of coffee I downed between the two airports.

At 10 we were greeted in the chamber of commerce building by quite a number of people who seemed interested in knowing what a couple of students from Ohio were doing at this conference and who made small talk with us to make us more comfortable.

At around 10:40 we were greeted by the Polish Ambassador to the United States, Janusz Reiter, and sat down to speak with him awhile. Within ten minutes they were rushing us to stand up and have our picture taken with Reiter and shook hands one last time before being ushered into the conference room.As business occassions do in the US this was to start on time at promptly 11 am and our guest at the table was the conference guest of honor.

The conference room had a large number of people and we chose the most inconspicuous table we could find in the absolute back corner of the room where perhaps we might pass through unnoticed.

The US ambassador spoke briefly followed by Reiter and then it was already time for lunch by noon. Table by table they made their way to the buffet. A young man joined us with a name tag that indicated he had achieved his PhD. He seemed a bit awkward but we tried to make small talk.

By the time it was our turn to get dinner I was highly fed up with trying to remember how I was supposed to properly eat at a formal luncheon. I didn't want to care about something so petty. I got my plate of chicken and vegetables with the appropriately sized servings for such proper gatherings and had my seat. By the time my table was ready for dessert I wound up alone with the awkward doctorate chatting away about how cynical he was about his life and job as a computer scientist and how he hadn't learned any French during his three years in Quebec for his Master's. I told him that was a bit of a shame. He agreed. He said his head was just too full of Polish to learn another language. No- he was American, not Polish. I don't think he really spoke much Polish either actually.

Anyway, I dropped a spoon on the floor as soon as I got back to the table and couldn't refrain from quietly uttering the word, "shit". He made a crack about etiquette and then I realized it was only a crack and he was on my side.

It bugged me to have to worry how I was eating my food and if my posture was correct, to wonder if people were judging me. I'm not like that- I don't feel that way. What is it about the world of business that makes you feel that tension? Everything is about appearances. Why can't everyone just act naturally? You can't, you really can't. I felt like Roseanne in a five-star restaurant. You can't just come in laughing your head off and enjoying yourself, you have to button your suit coat all the way to the top and try not to crack a smile unless someone at the podium makes a lightly witty remark and everyone chuckles a bit. Anyway, the whole thing made me tense until the slight conversation with the computer science PhD who didn't seem to know or care about much of anything and didn't even want to do computer science. Ok, I'm doing better than this guy.

The rest of the conference was slightly more interesting, "Poland is great because of this and that; invest in Poland, yada yada yada". The conference ended, we thanked our hosts and decided to stroll across the street to the CNN headquarters.

We had about an hour to spare and the behind the scenes tour was only 55 minutes. $12 per adult ticket. I really wanted to see it, thankfully we had one other journalism major on my side, and a three person crowd that was somewhat interested. we were sold on the tour. I beeped like a bomb when going through the metal detector. The security cop laughed when he used the handheld to scan me all over in my suit and I didn't beep a lick. He said he just didn't know what it was. Well, I guess it doesn't matter much, they let me into a number of Senate buildings in D.C. with a swiss army knife.

We then rode what we later learned is the longest escalator in the world to the eigth floor or this incredibly unique structure, a 5 minute ride of horror in my opinion. The first stop on the tour was a room like a movie theater where we sat and watched the projected images of background scenes. We saw what was being aired at that moment in the middle of the screen, with numerous boxes all around showing the teleprompters, the anchors currently off air, scenes that had yet to be ready to cover the news. We watched several minutes of the Anna Nichole Smith story. After that we were moved to a stairwell where we stood staring across at the rooms of the Omni for around 10 minutes. Welp, that puts the tour down to around 30 minutes left.

Next was a room to demonstrate to screens where everything is projected and the two way mirrors that force the anchors to look at the camera while they read the scripts. Next room- a giant overlook into the newsroom. Ok, this part is cool. There in the center of the room are the anchors, they're broadcasting right there in the middle of mobs of people at their computers. Just sitting putting news together. They had news of September 11th aired in 5 minutes. There are anywhere between 100 and 300 people in the room with the anchors at the same time. If you watch the news you won't hear anything but the anchors.

Then we got paraded down a number of other steps, we were told some historical facts about the building and about the large number of diverse channels CNN actually has. People were walking past us at this point who were not on tour because we were basically in the mall now. We began to realize that we were robbed a bit. I'd say the tour was worth $6, maybe 8 with the rise in minimum wage. It was a cool day, and for me a very interesting one. Not bad, though. Not bad at all.

Crazy little thing called life...

Last night was really amazing and insightful. Going uptown for five minutes and then ending up spending the night with a bunch of friends in my own living room talking about things I feel only adults talk about makes me somewhat certain that I really am one now. The thrill of going out 4 nights a week and getting sloshed and acting like a fool has gradually lost its appeal. That feeling of goofiness pales in comparison to the feeling of real connection with people found in intimate conversation. Is that being grown up? If so, I kind of like it. Though, it definitely has its downsides.

Things like, understanding how the world really works. How money truly is the root of all evil and how it permeates every aspect of our existence. To understand the astounding greed that motivates so much of politics is heartbreaking. The weight of America's happiness is on the shoulders of the rest of the world and it seems that no one is doing anything about it.

Last week I was asked to come talk about my experience in Senegal in front of some first year students in the Global Leadership program I'm in. I was really happy to go back in time and attempt to put myself there again. Yet, I felt so limited. Given countless hours it would be difficult to summarize, giving credit to everything, the experience I had there. I want to not just describe the experience but open people's eyes to the grave injustices I witnessed. Babies who are numbers, women who are nearly slaves to their families, men who work so hard for nearly nothing. Maybe this is why I am so thrown off when people ask me, "how was Senegal?". What do you say to that? It was the most incredible, wild, eye-opening, exhilarating, heartbreaking three and a half months of my life. But every one of those words has so many stories and faces behind it. There's absolutely no way to summarize it. What's more, Senegal is one of the most stable countries in the whole of Africa, considered to be "doing well", and I myself can be there and take bucket showers and live among them but I will always be American and no matter how much I strive to put myself on their level, if I am injured, I will never end up at the Post de sante of Ouakam where I watched so many people receive inadequate health care.

A part of me feels like I'm still in the air, in limbo. When you're on the plane you're someplace in between. You're not really anywhere. I feel like I never actually landed, I'm still someplace 34,000 feet above ground floating in between the US and Senegal. I've been home over a month- I wonder when that'll stop.

Alex still calls me on a regular basis and I get messages and e-mails from him all the time. My heart is so apart from him now and I am consumed with guilt. How can I explain to him that I will probably never be his again? I don't want to have to do that. I feel like I did something destructive. When I was there and with him I was so in it. Part of me missed home but overall I felt right where I should be. Now that I'm back it's clear to me that I could never marry a person who doesn't challenge me. Challenge me to grow and educate myself. Someone who doesn't stimulate me on an intellectual level. I don't know why, I don't understand it. I'm so angry with myself for being so detached from someone I love and who seems ready to never stop loving me. He just turned 29; what did I do to this person? I was his hope for something more, something better than that life. Looking back I'm so furious with myself for things I said to him, things to give him that hope. I meant them then, I really did. There was some innocent part of me that was naive enough to believe that this love was just. I wanted to be in love and I was but it was some completely other me. I feel that I did something selfish and unfair. In the beginning I kept telling him I would leave and it would be over but I fell so hard that stopped feeling like an option. I felt that I had to see him again and that he was the only person I'd ever met who really deserved my love. Perhaps it's true that he is the most deserving but somehow you cannot align your heart and your head to always love the one you know you should love.

When I came back I realized how terrified I am of commitment. I've worked incredibly hard to do what I'm striving to do and I always promised myself I wouldn't sacrifice my dreams for any man. I don't know if sacrificing love for dreams will find me happy in the end but that's life. I know I'm going to be a workaholic because I'm already obsessed with being almost a professional. Like everyone I'm floating through hoping to bump into another person going my direction and it's horrifying to think that maybe we will miss one another somehow but in the meantime all I can do is live and love myself and keep hoping.

Where in the world

My head is absolutely spinning lately. I can't get my thoughts straight for five minutes. It's like I've gone completely mad. I'm left, I'm right, I'm all over the board in between... I have absolutely no idea what's going on. I feel so overwhelmed by the fact that I'm practically finished with the four lightyears of college that just passed.

I have not stopped thinking for a single day about going back to Senegal. I can't stop imagining those little brown eyes in that classroom which should be mine. I can't stop thinking of Ousseynou and what an amazing friend he is and how I need back to him. I keep seeing myself on the beach,and in the hot sun, and walking through the damn sand that I hated every single day there. I can't stop imagining cooking eggs with Alex in the apartment that we talked so much about having together.

I sent the woman who offered me the job a confirmation that I had accepted. I don't like to be dishonest but she wanted a decision before I was capable of making one. I really want my acceptance to be true. I just want to say that's that and go back. The day after I told her I was coming, though, I got a perfect job offer in China to do the same thing. Contrary to the Senegal job, this one offers me airfare, visa fees, stipend, food allowances, a fully-furnished apartment, and Chinese language and culture lessons. Not to mention the obvious perk of being in China. This is the exact opposite of the life I would be having in Senegal making around $300 a month and being entirely responsible for my living costs, airfare, and somehow working to scrape through my loan repayments... all $28,000 of them.

Plus, I'm getting invitations to friends' weddings, or seeing so many of my friends in at least semi-serious relationships and I'm scared of never finding that myself. When I do a reality check I know that I'm super young and totally don't need to be worried but what's it going to feel like when my best friends have children and I'm still single?

I went to a lecture entitled, "The Many Avenues of Development". I was somewhat dissatisfied to find that the director of the African Studies department (whom I have never met, by the way) and professor of development here at OU seemed practically oblivious to the criticisms of Development work. When I posed the question of what organizations he knew which were not helping to perpetuate the problem of dependency he really found no answer for me. He responded that the organizations work like a business and why would they want all those employees to lose their jobs by not being needed? Well Mr. Walker, I kind of thought that was the point and that's the life that development workers commit themselves to. Why get involved if you are in it for a job and not for the honest betterment of mankind?

What worried me much more than that, though, is when he went in to describing his past graduates who had lived in as many as ten diverse countries before settling into a real career. Does that mean that I am facing the possibility of sacrificing a family for my career? I am utterly in love with what I'm striving to do. I, in fact, cannot even imagine myself doing any other thing in the world. Yet, is it really worth it to sacrifice my own reality for the bleak discovery that the difference I can make in this world is so minute?

Before Senegal I had never wanted to visit the same place twice. At least not until I had stepped foot onto every continent and numerous countries around the globe. Only under those conditions would I allow myself to start visiting old homes. Leipzig never took hold of my heart like Dakar did, though. I loved Leipzig absolutely but it just never touched me the same way. The people never made me see myself in an entirely different way. I never felt so myself in Germany. In Africa I felt at my most genuine.

Now, maybe I should go to China. Take the job that it makes sense to take. Explore a new opportunity. I've never been one to back down from a challenge. Both jobs would be one. Going to China would be a whole new start after just having one in September and coming back to have basically another, and with another running closer with graduation in June. It's practically certain that I will be out of the country again within the next 9 months. But, where in the world will I be?

Everyone else says China, my heart says Senegal, but my brain just cannot decide.

Dementia

Growing up is like a constant state of hallucination. When you begin to widen your horizons and see the world for exactly what it is at this very moment, you have to pinch yourself. How can that be reality? Maybe a lot of people have the luxury of never delving into these things but as a student of development, a student of world issues, sociology, political science, and anthropology, you are forced to swallow reality whole.

The thing that most people don't realize about the world is what a strange state it's in. They're so adjusted to life as it is today and haven't ever thought of how that came to be.

Yesterday my political anthropology professor said, "You might think that the police are your friends..." Most of the class had to laugh at this because we are taught from a very young age to believe that the police are in fact our friends. As she further explained, they come to your house when the crazy robber is breaking through your window. They make us less afraid, they protect us. Sure, this is all true. Yet, at the same time, the very reason that they exist is to maintain control over society and prevent rebellion. They make certain that you're not breaking any of their rules.They protect society as it has come to be known.

The next point she brought up was how this society we have come to know is so stratified. This means that say, someone sees a starving child in the road in the city of New York and walks on by without even a second glance. Then that person goes to their nice high rise apartment where the starving child's father tries to break in so that his child can eat. The woman then calls the police to protect her from this man. He is arrested, his crime- wanting his daughter to eat? What about the woman's crime, letting the child starve.

Of course, we must consider that maybe some of these people who beg want to take our money and buy a bottle of Jim Beam, but, that's not the point. The point is that our society is in place to keep some people starving while others strive to protect their wealth, and it is they who are protected.

My prof explained that these are the things imposed on world order by the new international organization, and the concept of states. I felt during class that I was only hearing one point of view, but the more I listened the more I realized that it was one point of view, but though there may be benefits to the state system, the reality is, more than half the world suffers because of it. My father thinks I'm way too liberal. He thinks it's my professors and that I can't think for myself. He's wrong.

When I was in Senegal I didn't really see many cops. They really didn't seem to be there to protect you. In my three months there I never saw a cop doing anything other than directing traffic or escorting a politician. There is this real sense of freedom there. No one in the US would ever believe me that Senegal is more free than it is here.

There is of course the argument that maybe life is better here. For some people that's definitely true. Don't get me wrong either, Senegal is definitely stratified as well. There aren't many societies left which aren't. I don't know of any myself.

There are so many things about the world that you could never possibly understand if you never leave the United States, or even if you travel within Europe. In fact, to make it even more complicated, you could never understand if you took a tourist agency's 21 day tour of the underdeveloped world. There's nothing you could see or know from the window of a bus, or from private beaches and 5 star hotels, or guided tours, even with a native tour guide.

There is no way to believe these people could be happier than we are, or know things that we don't know. They are struggling, but they are struggling from systems that were IMPOSED on them by another world, our world. A world that made them forget egalitarianism and strive for money and power in everything. The United States has become the world capital of those pursuits. Our government will do anything and everything- humane, inhumane, and even unimaginable to adjust the rest of the world to our hegemony. Realizing this really is like being on drugs. It doesn't seem real, it doesn't seem possible, you can't imagine it, and that's exactly how they get away with it. Most of the world, especially our world, chooses to ignore these structures because it's easier, it's more convenient, and because they wouldn't even be able to believe it if they tried. They're far too brainwashed to ever accept it.

The United States is the best place in the world to live. It's the freest country in the world. We're the top because we're the best there is and no one else is doing it any better. ...Really? Are you sure about that? Why do you know, because that's what you've been taught? Well, I wouldn't be so sure if I were you... maybe you should do a little of your own investigating.

This view is incredibly liberal, that's true. I don't like that label, "very left wing"... Liberal means to be free, right? What is it about liberalism that gives it the bad connotations? I don't understand conservatism, is that the desire to be less free? To tell people that they have to wear their seat belts in their cars or that they aren't allowed to smoke marijuana.

Why is marijuana illegal? This may seem silly but honestly ask yourself. It doesn't hurt anyone else if you decide to smoke marijuana. I've never heard of anyone dying from smoking it, or killing someone else. It's natural just like tobacco. It kills brain cells supposedly, but so does playing football and that's not illegal. In fact, it's supported by millions and millions of dollars. It seems to me that alcohol is more dangerous than marijuana. At least you can think straight if you're high, it's a different story if you're drunk, and drunk people hurt other people sort of often.

Yet, my views are crazy to the average person. It's silly for me to think of terrible marijuana being condoned or allowed by the government, why would they let us do something so crazy? If you smoke pot you're automatically labeled differently. Maybe some people think you're irresponsible, or crazy, or stupid, a bad person, or a loser. Why do we not think all of those things when we see someone smoking a cigarette, or drinking a glass of wine? Well, I think it's because we're taught to think all these things. The truth is that not being allowed to smoke marijuana is just another way for the government to control people. So, maybe you'll think I've become the craziest extreme of left-wingers now. Well, whatever that means, this is the way I see it.