Utterly confused is the only way to describe it.
After fading in and out of more intense bouts of cynicism and longing to be back in Zambia, I now am just left with feelings of confusion.
Here are my reflections from Week One...
I walked into my kitchen and my original elation at how much food was available turned into an overwhelming task of decision making. Bagels, a cereal selection that stretches past corn flakes, multiple topping options for the bagels. Trail mix, trail mix bars, plain almonds. Soy milk, regular milk, half & half. Leftover pizza, leftover pasta, leftover stir-fry. Greek yogurt, Brown Cow, Yoplait. Wheat bread, cinnamon-swirl bread, goldfish, sun chips, tortilla chips. Am I really even hungry? Or does the food just look incredibly enticing? I'm torn between what food to eat, or if I even need to be eating.
I'm torn between the girl people remember me as and the woman I'm evolving to be. My general positivity, city-girl stance, coffee-drinkin', hip-hop lovin', pseudo-intellectual talkin' but without an opinion. It's just not who I am anymore. I want the small town, I want the rubber boots and the bluegrass. I am critical, about many things, especially how rapidly technology is advancing and how numb people are to its effects, (the main one of which, I should add, is mind-numbing). I want to grow and shed and cleanse and grow more. I want to change. How do you show someone that? That who you are in one space and time does not determine who you were or who you will become?
I understand that life in the states is not like life in rural Ecuador, the Caribbean Coast, or a village in Zambia. I almost find comfort in the fact that they cannot even be compared. I can already feel the vibes which were ricochetting off me so strongly in the airport seeping in. I'm adapting. But what remains conscious in my mind are things I cannot simply adapt to; nor do I want to.
The future looks bright. The future looks grim. The present looks bright. The present looks grim. I'm positive. I'm cynical. I'm the old me, I'm the new me. And I bounce back and forth multiple times daily.
When I'm alone I will burst out into tears that only last for about a minute. Then I'm back. I'm trying to be strong. I'm trying to accept diving back into my roots. Even though I know it's not where I want to be anymore, I know it's where I need to be.
If there was a troll that I thought would lead the way, I'd stop and get to know him. Because I now understand it takes a lot of twists and turns before things present themselves clearly. Why do I find clarity only in retrospect?
I'm trusting my trolls.
After fading in and out of more intense bouts of cynicism and longing to be back in Zambia, I now am just left with feelings of confusion.
Here are my reflections from Week One...
I walked into my kitchen and my original elation at how much food was available turned into an overwhelming task of decision making. Bagels, a cereal selection that stretches past corn flakes, multiple topping options for the bagels. Trail mix, trail mix bars, plain almonds. Soy milk, regular milk, half & half. Leftover pizza, leftover pasta, leftover stir-fry. Greek yogurt, Brown Cow, Yoplait. Wheat bread, cinnamon-swirl bread, goldfish, sun chips, tortilla chips. Am I really even hungry? Or does the food just look incredibly enticing? I'm torn between what food to eat, or if I even need to be eating.
I'm torn between the girl people remember me as and the woman I'm evolving to be. My general positivity, city-girl stance, coffee-drinkin', hip-hop lovin', pseudo-intellectual talkin' but without an opinion. It's just not who I am anymore. I want the small town, I want the rubber boots and the bluegrass. I am critical, about many things, especially how rapidly technology is advancing and how numb people are to its effects, (the main one of which, I should add, is mind-numbing). I want to grow and shed and cleanse and grow more. I want to change. How do you show someone that? That who you are in one space and time does not determine who you were or who you will become?
I understand that life in the states is not like life in rural Ecuador, the Caribbean Coast, or a village in Zambia. I almost find comfort in the fact that they cannot even be compared. I can already feel the vibes which were ricochetting off me so strongly in the airport seeping in. I'm adapting. But what remains conscious in my mind are things I cannot simply adapt to; nor do I want to.
The future looks bright. The future looks grim. The present looks bright. The present looks grim. I'm positive. I'm cynical. I'm the old me, I'm the new me. And I bounce back and forth multiple times daily.
When I'm alone I will burst out into tears that only last for about a minute. Then I'm back. I'm trying to be strong. I'm trying to accept diving back into my roots. Even though I know it's not where I want to be anymore, I know it's where I need to be.
If there was a troll that I thought would lead the way, I'd stop and get to know him. Because I now understand it takes a lot of twists and turns before things present themselves clearly. Why do I find clarity only in retrospect?
I'm trusting my trolls.
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