Yeah, this time I'm fine. Must be the "upward" part of my fun filled amusement park ride known as my emotions!
I ardently dislike going to cafes alone. Maybe this is not a popular sentiment, but for me its so awkward. You go to the cafe, order and drink, plop down in a seat and proceed to browse the internet or crack open a book. Then when your drink ends...what do you do? Pretend you're still drinking? Buy another one? Is there proper etiquette for how long you can stay there alone before its weird?
I mean I could just be at home reading, why go out in public to read alone? No matter where you sit, you'll end up making eye contact with the other person there who's probably waiting for someone else and pitying you for being there all single and alone.
One thing I might add. Jalepeno flavored chips are awesome. I love the "tongue-on-fire" feeling, I don't know why...spicy food is just awesome.
However, the residue from this awesome flavoring upon inspection of fingers and hands, that it has come into contact with, does not leave any friendly evidence behind. You will receive a gentle reminder though, if you start scrubbing a dirty contact lense with those innocuous looking digits, that Jalepenos are to be taken very seriously and indeed do not need to be seen to be felt. By "gentle reminder" I mean by punishing your eyeballs with a firestorm, so that weeping and gnashing of teeth occur immediately after replacing aforementioned newly "cleaned" contact in your eye.
This also unfortunately adds to the list of painful substances I've unintentionally place in my eyes.
Updated Top Five Worst Things to Get in My Eyes now being:
1. Jalepeno flavoring (e.g. upon potato chips)
2. Toothpaste (...I'm not proud of this one)
3. Peanut Butter (creamy...although maybe crunchy would be even worse...I'm not gonna try it)
4. Mascara (run of the mill, and experienced by many)
5. Pho Bo Soup with Red Pepper Flakes (seemingly impossible maneuver until a noodle flips up one fiery drop of liquid straight into the ocular region)
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Friday, December 21, 2012
The Grim Visage of Hair Salon Vernacular.
The urge to write pried open my tired eyes, and left me wide awake.
I've spent the last month and a half staying with my mom, sister and some friends back on campus. That first part of the month was a rollercoaster of emotions, but I thought maybe that was the worst of it.
Things I've learned: my grieving comes in waves, and not just little lapping waves that might accidentally get the top of your shorts a little damp. I'm talking 20' soakers that somehow come up unannounced and overwhelming and there's nowhere to run or hide.
Recent studies show that heartbreak or heartache is a physical pain*. As in I should be able to pop a few tylenol and be on my way...I thought being home was sorta like taking pain meds. I'm comfortable, I spend my time how I choose, I can relax or see people...I'm in charge of what happens in my day. Apparently that is all I'm in charge of though because my demandingly unpredictable emotions have dibs on the rest of me. One minute I am perfectly neutral, I could be happy or sad, but mostly just pleasantly blank of any heightened emotion. Then in a few blinks of the eye I'm elated, enjoying a great conversation, or Whose Line is it Anyway video to only fall suddenly quiet in a introspective state. I feel like a lily pad with one tenuous root tethered to the bottom of a murky pond. I'm am floating, delicately attached but also close to uprooting and following whatever current that takes me first.
*No citations, but I gleaned this nugget from Pinterest, so you know it's true.
I ache in my very bones for the happiness I had. The brand of happy then is now shrouded in rose tinted vagaries. At night I lay there breathing in and out, playing out memories in my head until its so cluttered it hurts. I miss the quite confidence of another's assured love. The span of distance presented no problems and the return home was a promise of future joy. Now there's the twinge of loneliness present, reminding me I must face the coming year without my appointed defender by my side. It's a soft sigh in the darkness, a silently shed tear and a whisper of regret.
I ache for what was. For what changed...my momentum is just now slowing down like a liquid in a bottle that was wildly spun then quickly stopped. The liquid swirled around faster and faster but didn't notice it's surroundings until after the fact. A slow swirl continues, and I hope it will settle soon...
What is this unrest in me? I've been gone for half the year in a land that my roommates and I agreed to as "unreal". Its was not a real world. China was a fantasy, and I'm reeling from my descent high in the clouds to squarely back on Earth, smack dab into my previous life. It's my previous life yes, but with parts missing... like favor misplaced photographs, worn from repeated perusal. There's a haunting ache present, wishing everything would return until it feels whole again, until there's a restoration of what's mislaid.
I feel light headed, almost dizzy and I can't tell if its from locking my knees while standing (which I've done before, but I'm better at concentrating on not doing that these days) or realizing what's really out there totally makes my life seem small and insignificant. I'm breathless even looking at other places, realizing they are worlds away from my own tiny one, and it's all carrying on without me like its done for forever. This world of ours is so enormous. I feel as though the very idea of such enormity could just swallow me up. I would be consumed wholly, without a trace of me left.
Have I mentioned I dislike when phrases are set up to say certain things like; "for forever", or "that that", or "ascended into". The latter is impossible for me to say without me sounding like a two year old: asendddindo. Or like when words are purposefully misspelled like "kewl" or the ever popular hair salon trends of "split enz" or "unbeweavable" (true story).
Honestly, I really am irked by this total disregard for proper English. I feel like I'm being forced to say incorrect things, but they sound misleadingly correct. How sneaky is that?? I just feel so manipulated into speaking poor English.
There are two sides of doing travel research online; one you get loads of info about awesome places to see, gorgeous scenery and architecture to ogle, and people all over the world just waiting to make your much sought after acquaintance. On the other hand, it also dredges up everyone else's marvelous accomplishments from scaling snow clad mountains, seeing the northern lights to working with kids in orphanages and building homes for the needy in some distant land no one else is very willing to travel to. I see the mounds of awesomeness that others have achieved, going into space, training gorillas, inventing poo-to-carbon toilets and I have to feel a bit chagrined by my own seemingly small experience. Sure, I went to China which not a lot of people claim (or wish to claim), and I was a team member of a very upscale hotel chain. However, my part in keeping the success rates of this place going was minimal. My part was a minor contribution and thousand upon thousands of my peers* go all over the world and do the same kind of internship I do.
*Another word I don't especially care for. It seems presumptuous and pretentious, like my fellow college aged peoples will scoff and turn their noses up at being called "fellow college aged peoples". Maybe its shorter, but just because its short doesn't mean its better. Peers makes me think of scholarly journals, and of course quite "adult" people standing about saying, "Ye-es quite so, I concur with this particular statement of irrevocable fact...blad dee blah dee blah blah". Lets take it down a notch and go with people my age shall we? (Yes I'm aware this word applies to all age groups that one traverses through. Maybe when I'm at that especially "adult" part of my life, the word will become more palatable...I seriously doubt it though.)
I teeter between feeling rather proud of my experience, thinking "Ah me, look at what I've already accomplished at the ripe age of 23", then I see a picture of a smiling youth with their arms around impoverished children that they've been teaching, and probably donating their body parts too or something just because they are that giving. I'll admit a tiny harumph escapes me, and I totter to the ground thinking, "Well they just have it all planned out and if I had the money, I'd be doing the same thing". (Also I only have so many spare parts that I'm willing to part with...)
Oh and since the world did not end, I suppose this means I will continue occasional updates. I thought that once I returned to the States I would lose interest in posting any more blog blurbs, but I've found the process of writing out my mind's meanderings to be quite soothing and therapeutic. So forgive the frivolous nature of some posts, and keep in mind that I mainly write these for myself...you are an added bonus if you read and like it!
See? Even now I feel a sense of playfulness return, but I can't keep the lingering sadness completely at bay. Keeping a light tone is easy when an interaction is faceless, and I've found these updates to be quite freeing in a way that discussing them with family and friends could not be. What I've experienced is very singular to myself, a uniqueness that cannot, unfortunately, be passed on with story telling and pictures. I still feel China in my life, like a puzzle piece being slowly moved away, but the edge still holds the shape left behind. Now its just a quest to find a new piece, to shore up that edge lest it crack and crumble. Much like brownies or cake when a piece is cut away leaving the bare edge to dry! Too many similes. My apologies. I'm like a pandora's box of comparisons...
I've spent the last month and a half staying with my mom, sister and some friends back on campus. That first part of the month was a rollercoaster of emotions, but I thought maybe that was the worst of it.
Things I've learned: my grieving comes in waves, and not just little lapping waves that might accidentally get the top of your shorts a little damp. I'm talking 20' soakers that somehow come up unannounced and overwhelming and there's nowhere to run or hide.
Recent studies show that heartbreak or heartache is a physical pain*. As in I should be able to pop a few tylenol and be on my way...I thought being home was sorta like taking pain meds. I'm comfortable, I spend my time how I choose, I can relax or see people...I'm in charge of what happens in my day. Apparently that is all I'm in charge of though because my demandingly unpredictable emotions have dibs on the rest of me. One minute I am perfectly neutral, I could be happy or sad, but mostly just pleasantly blank of any heightened emotion. Then in a few blinks of the eye I'm elated, enjoying a great conversation, or Whose Line is it Anyway video to only fall suddenly quiet in a introspective state. I feel like a lily pad with one tenuous root tethered to the bottom of a murky pond. I'm am floating, delicately attached but also close to uprooting and following whatever current that takes me first.
*No citations, but I gleaned this nugget from Pinterest, so you know it's true.
I ache in my very bones for the happiness I had. The brand of happy then is now shrouded in rose tinted vagaries. At night I lay there breathing in and out, playing out memories in my head until its so cluttered it hurts. I miss the quite confidence of another's assured love. The span of distance presented no problems and the return home was a promise of future joy. Now there's the twinge of loneliness present, reminding me I must face the coming year without my appointed defender by my side. It's a soft sigh in the darkness, a silently shed tear and a whisper of regret.
I ache for what was. For what changed...my momentum is just now slowing down like a liquid in a bottle that was wildly spun then quickly stopped. The liquid swirled around faster and faster but didn't notice it's surroundings until after the fact. A slow swirl continues, and I hope it will settle soon...
What is this unrest in me? I've been gone for half the year in a land that my roommates and I agreed to as "unreal". Its was not a real world. China was a fantasy, and I'm reeling from my descent high in the clouds to squarely back on Earth, smack dab into my previous life. It's my previous life yes, but with parts missing... like favor misplaced photographs, worn from repeated perusal. There's a haunting ache present, wishing everything would return until it feels whole again, until there's a restoration of what's mislaid.
I feel light headed, almost dizzy and I can't tell if its from locking my knees while standing (which I've done before, but I'm better at concentrating on not doing that these days) or realizing what's really out there totally makes my life seem small and insignificant. I'm breathless even looking at other places, realizing they are worlds away from my own tiny one, and it's all carrying on without me like its done for forever. This world of ours is so enormous. I feel as though the very idea of such enormity could just swallow me up. I would be consumed wholly, without a trace of me left.
Have I mentioned I dislike when phrases are set up to say certain things like; "for forever", or "that that", or "ascended into". The latter is impossible for me to say without me sounding like a two year old: asendddindo. Or like when words are purposefully misspelled like "kewl" or the ever popular hair salon trends of "split enz" or "unbeweavable" (true story).
Honestly, I really am irked by this total disregard for proper English. I feel like I'm being forced to say incorrect things, but they sound misleadingly correct. How sneaky is that?? I just feel so manipulated into speaking poor English.
There are two sides of doing travel research online; one you get loads of info about awesome places to see, gorgeous scenery and architecture to ogle, and people all over the world just waiting to make your much sought after acquaintance. On the other hand, it also dredges up everyone else's marvelous accomplishments from scaling snow clad mountains, seeing the northern lights to working with kids in orphanages and building homes for the needy in some distant land no one else is very willing to travel to. I see the mounds of awesomeness that others have achieved, going into space, training gorillas, inventing poo-to-carbon toilets and I have to feel a bit chagrined by my own seemingly small experience. Sure, I went to China which not a lot of people claim (or wish to claim), and I was a team member of a very upscale hotel chain. However, my part in keeping the success rates of this place going was minimal. My part was a minor contribution and thousand upon thousands of my peers* go all over the world and do the same kind of internship I do.
*Another word I don't especially care for. It seems presumptuous and pretentious, like my fellow college aged peoples will scoff and turn their noses up at being called "fellow college aged peoples". Maybe its shorter, but just because its short doesn't mean its better. Peers makes me think of scholarly journals, and of course quite "adult" people standing about saying, "Ye-es quite so, I concur with this particular statement of irrevocable fact...blad dee blah dee blah blah". Lets take it down a notch and go with people my age shall we? (Yes I'm aware this word applies to all age groups that one traverses through. Maybe when I'm at that especially "adult" part of my life, the word will become more palatable...I seriously doubt it though.)
I teeter between feeling rather proud of my experience, thinking "Ah me, look at what I've already accomplished at the ripe age of 23", then I see a picture of a smiling youth with their arms around impoverished children that they've been teaching, and probably donating their body parts too or something just because they are that giving. I'll admit a tiny harumph escapes me, and I totter to the ground thinking, "Well they just have it all planned out and if I had the money, I'd be doing the same thing". (Also I only have so many spare parts that I'm willing to part with...)
Oh and since the world did not end, I suppose this means I will continue occasional updates. I thought that once I returned to the States I would lose interest in posting any more blog blurbs, but I've found the process of writing out my mind's meanderings to be quite soothing and therapeutic. So forgive the frivolous nature of some posts, and keep in mind that I mainly write these for myself...you are an added bonus if you read and like it!
See? Even now I feel a sense of playfulness return, but I can't keep the lingering sadness completely at bay. Keeping a light tone is easy when an interaction is faceless, and I've found these updates to be quite freeing in a way that discussing them with family and friends could not be. What I've experienced is very singular to myself, a uniqueness that cannot, unfortunately, be passed on with story telling and pictures. I still feel China in my life, like a puzzle piece being slowly moved away, but the edge still holds the shape left behind. Now its just a quest to find a new piece, to shore up that edge lest it crack and crumble. Much like brownies or cake when a piece is cut away leaving the bare edge to dry! Too many similes. My apologies. I'm like a pandora's box of comparisons...
Friday, December 14, 2012
Happy One Month!
I realized something today. I've been home for a month now. A whole month since I landed in the states to resume my life here. I feel as if that was many many months ago, not just 4 weeks. I haven't really been able to fathom how long I've been gone since we came back. Waking up from dreams takes minutes, not weeks, right? Waking up from 6 months in China though, seems to take longer.
I'm more here now, most of me has returned and I feel more disconnected from China now. The more I feel disconnected however, the more I miss parts of it. I miss the food, the conversations with my coworkers, the multiple coffee shops within walking distance...eh...just the feeling of it.
So far I've spent my time readjusting and since that has been going fairly well, I'm up for other phases of my life to begin. This past week I had a job interview that turned into an invitation for a teacher assistant position and a job description rather than interview. This means I was requested by a former instructor of my lab, and the job I wanted was already offered to me before I was aware of it. So, I have a job upon my return to campus, an apartment closely located to my main building and a new sense of purpose and energy. I feel like my life is bounding ahead of me, occasionally looking back and shooting me a grin of mischievousness and promise, instead of lagging behind like a half deflated balloon. I am squaring my shoulders, planting my feet and bracing for the next onslaught of obstacles. I'm ready!
This is about how cheesy I get, but I have a slight intolerance to lactose, so I have to limit myself.
I'm more here now, most of me has returned and I feel more disconnected from China now. The more I feel disconnected however, the more I miss parts of it. I miss the food, the conversations with my coworkers, the multiple coffee shops within walking distance...eh...just the feeling of it.
So far I've spent my time readjusting and since that has been going fairly well, I'm up for other phases of my life to begin. This past week I had a job interview that turned into an invitation for a teacher assistant position and a job description rather than interview. This means I was requested by a former instructor of my lab, and the job I wanted was already offered to me before I was aware of it. So, I have a job upon my return to campus, an apartment closely located to my main building and a new sense of purpose and energy. I feel like my life is bounding ahead of me, occasionally looking back and shooting me a grin of mischievousness and promise, instead of lagging behind like a half deflated balloon. I am squaring my shoulders, planting my feet and bracing for the next onslaught of obstacles. I'm ready!
This is about how cheesy I get, but I have a slight intolerance to lactose, so I have to limit myself.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Day Globes and Confessionitis.
Nothing surprises me any more. Except puddles discovered by be-socked feet.
Oh and when my cookies come out incredibly tasty (yes, I will brag about that- they are!) Also when its 65 degrees the first three days of December.
Maybe a few things still surprise me.
I've noticed over the past three weeks that time has both sped up to accomodate my reeling senses, but slowed down to make it seem like I've been home for months. The two time jaunts sorta cancel each other out and just make one day follow another, like they've done for my whole life.
What makes my world rotate faster is the amount of work I need to do, the little tasks I can accomplish that wile away the hours. Since there are only about .3 hours of daylight anymore, that means I can be done with anything around four and call it good.
Slower days mean more thinking time, and thinking time means more introspecting self reflection, and that means occasional tidal waves of regret, guilt and self disappointment.
Avoiding a slow day is quite the involving task, which in turn helps jump start a fast day. I wish my day was put around a globe, like those plastic numbers with a metal frame and base. Then I could spin it to my whim, and make the time go by as I pleased.
You know that feeling of utter regret that lingers and haunts any open space your brain offers? That feeling of unrest until the moment you can release it and relief can follow? How important is it to say the simple apology, express a heartfelt feeling that will other wise fill up the gaps where peace resides until it's uttered? Speak it softly, speak it slowly, speak it humbly, speak it quickly, or speak it with the only method you can. However its done, it must be done.
That's really one of those niggling quirks I can't seem to rid myself of. I must speak it, must express the innermost thoughts or I will languish in a place of stuck-ness. Maybe this kind of confessionitis will help realize a new path of work, or conjure up a perfect relationship. On the other hand, it might just rot away any patience among my beloved ones with the incessant expression of "feelings", or will cause me to lose many jobs since my infernal sense of obligation rules my somewhat unwillingly obliging mind.
If I had the power, I'd freeze someone's ability to shut down and stop listening long enough to explain myself (not in an evil way, just bypassing the any prejudices formed beforehand) then letting them go right away of course. Now that I say it, that sounds rather controlling and manipulative. Well it is, I guess...but you can see what I mean. All the times we've needed to apologize for something, or to someone, wouldn't it be nice to just do so without any hassle?
Can't I just be over and done yet? Snap my fingers and bam! move on! I'm ready, I'm willing so whats slowing this process down? Closure, why can't we be friends?
Oh and when my cookies come out incredibly tasty (yes, I will brag about that- they are!) Also when its 65 degrees the first three days of December.
Maybe a few things still surprise me.
I've noticed over the past three weeks that time has both sped up to accomodate my reeling senses, but slowed down to make it seem like I've been home for months. The two time jaunts sorta cancel each other out and just make one day follow another, like they've done for my whole life.
What makes my world rotate faster is the amount of work I need to do, the little tasks I can accomplish that wile away the hours. Since there are only about .3 hours of daylight anymore, that means I can be done with anything around four and call it good.
Slower days mean more thinking time, and thinking time means more introspecting self reflection, and that means occasional tidal waves of regret, guilt and self disappointment.
Avoiding a slow day is quite the involving task, which in turn helps jump start a fast day. I wish my day was put around a globe, like those plastic numbers with a metal frame and base. Then I could spin it to my whim, and make the time go by as I pleased.
You know that feeling of utter regret that lingers and haunts any open space your brain offers? That feeling of unrest until the moment you can release it and relief can follow? How important is it to say the simple apology, express a heartfelt feeling that will other wise fill up the gaps where peace resides until it's uttered? Speak it softly, speak it slowly, speak it humbly, speak it quickly, or speak it with the only method you can. However its done, it must be done.
That's really one of those niggling quirks I can't seem to rid myself of. I must speak it, must express the innermost thoughts or I will languish in a place of stuck-ness. Maybe this kind of confessionitis will help realize a new path of work, or conjure up a perfect relationship. On the other hand, it might just rot away any patience among my beloved ones with the incessant expression of "feelings", or will cause me to lose many jobs since my infernal sense of obligation rules my somewhat unwillingly obliging mind.
If I had the power, I'd freeze someone's ability to shut down and stop listening long enough to explain myself (not in an evil way, just bypassing the any prejudices formed beforehand) then letting them go right away of course. Now that I say it, that sounds rather controlling and manipulative. Well it is, I guess...but you can see what I mean. All the times we've needed to apologize for something, or to someone, wouldn't it be nice to just do so without any hassle?
Can't I just be over and done yet? Snap my fingers and bam! move on! I'm ready, I'm willing so whats slowing this process down? Closure, why can't we be friends?
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