Things are starting to move more quickly, although the 12 days I have left until I leave for Miami seem like an eternity. As it turns out, there will be ten of us in the program. Nine of us will meet in Miami, and one of the dudes is traveling independently and will meet us in Santiago. I'm super excited because there are several people coming from the Pacific Northwest, which I find particularly comforting. There's even another girl coming from Seattle!
The night we get to Miami, there will be some sort of meeting with a returned volunteer to orient us to the program. Once we arrive in Santiago, we will have about ten days of training as a unit of ten, and then on March 22 we will begin training with the Ministry of Education. At that point, we will be joined by other Ministry volunteers that have been recruited through other programs or are traveling independently.
I'm so anxious to meet these people, who will essentially be my "family" in Chile and a main connection to home. I hate the waiting; the not knowing. Who are these people? One of the guys just got his degree in Conflict Management, so I'm looking forward to talking to him about graduate school in international studies and his take on the job market.
It also troubles me to not know where my placement is yet. I really hope they put me in a high school. The Ministry said that most likely, we will be placed in one of two cities: Chillan and Los Angeles, in Region 8. A friend of mine went to Chillan, and said it was his favorite city in Chile, so I'm secretly hoping for a placement there. Successive earthquakes have destroyed its colonial architecture, but it's said to be pretty nontheless. Los Angeles is apparently an industrial and agricultural processing center. It's also a sort of base city for a lot of outdoors activities in the nearby mountains (and volcanos!) and a national park, so it could be pretty great. I can't imagine being disappointed with either place. Both cities are about the size of Tacoma in terms of population, which feels pretty manageable.
In other Chile-related news, my mom just called me this morning with the best news ever! My Uncle Paul and my cousin Andy will be taking a fishing trip to Chile in April, and they want to hook up with me while I'm down there! Andy's wife is from Santiago, and he travels there for work a lot (he is some sort of project-manager engineer for a whole system of mining companies there, or something). Uncle Paul has visited Chile several times also. The timing couldn't be better, as I will have been there for about a month and will probably be ready to see some people from home. My cousin is pretty great. His family grew up in Idaho, and he's probably about eight years older than me, but I feel like we're kind of kindred spirits. Since we weren't around each other much as children, our time together has been limited, but I always look forward to seeing him and his wife, Daniela, and their cute little daughter Stella. They're really cool people. One time I went to their place in Boise with my mom and they showed us pictures of the time Andy went to Machu Picchu. It got me all riled up. Uncle Paul is great, too. He's a newspaper editor, and really smart and funny. We like a lot of the same things, like classic rock and baseball. It would be so fucking fantastic to spend some time with them in Chile. I really hope it all works out!
This news came at a good time, because I had a minor breakdown last night. Things have been slowing down lately, in terms of work and trip preparations. Saturday is my last shift at Anthro, and while I'm ready to be less busy, I still haven't worked out what to do with my free time. I tend to try to sleep a lot to avoid thinking about everything, because I'm pretty scared, but this strategy tends to blow up on me. Like last night, I was driving to Seattle to have martinis with Smashley (which was pretty great by the way), and I just started sobbing in my car. I don't really know why because I'm trying not to think about how difficult leaving is going to be, but I think it's because I had just come from my mom's house. I'm really going to miss popping in on her, raiding her cupboards, teasing Dave. That's going to suck. I don't know how I'm supposed to just not see all these people I love for so long. But bleu cheese filled, gin-soaked olives and giggling with Smash elevated my mood, at least momentarily. Maybe I'll just have to be drunk for the whole year...
Just joking!
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
The final countdown
Three weeks from tomorrow, I fly to Miami. Three weeks from Wednesday, I fly to Santiago!
In honor of the beginning of the final countdown, I have a list of the top five most inconsequential things that I think I will miss about the USA:
5. haircuts
4. magazines
3. netflix
2. driving
1. my bed
Will this list look the same after six months in Chile? Stay tuned.
In honor of the beginning of the final countdown, I have a list of the top five most inconsequential things that I think I will miss about the USA:
5. haircuts
4. magazines
3. netflix
2. driving
1. my bed
Will this list look the same after six months in Chile? Stay tuned.
Friday, February 15, 2008
We cannot conceive of ourselves as not existing.
I've always been fascinated by space. When I was growing up, I had a giant, blown-up photograph of Earth as seen from the moon. I think my grandma's neighbor gave it to me (along with an equally rad photo of Mt. St. Helens blowing up, which incidentally highlights another obsession of mine: volcanos/geology) and I hung it on the wall of my bedroom. Last year I was reading a book about the planets, and I remember reading that the ring on Uranus is oriented vertically instead of tilted horizontally because it collided with another giant body and the collision knocked the planet's axis on its side. The fact that most fascinated me, though, is that we will never know what color the moon is. It looks different colors in the shade and in light. There is zero moisture on the moon, so when moon rocks are brought back to Earth, the moisture in our atmosphere changes the color of them. I remember being stunned by our inability to factualize a simple piece of information like the color of the moon. I think that's always been the draw of space for me: that its characteristics cannot be confirmed. I was reading an article about space today, about how only 4% of our universe consists of the matter that makes up our planet, humans, my computer, and so on. The rest of it is unknown "dark matter" and "dark energy," phrases that have no meaning, that are simply place holders so we have something to call the great unknowns of our universe. What is so fascinating to me is that dark matter and dark energy canont be detected by our five senses. We can only infer their existence from what we know of the universe through our observations; without "dark matter" and "dark energy," our universe doesn't make sense, and yet we don't know what they are, except that they are somehow related to gravity, another force we don't even understand. The idea that there are phenomena out there that define our existence that we cannot even sense fascinates me. We do not know it because we do not know how to know it. Something else that got me really excited is that, if there are more dimensions beyond the four we can sense (time, and the three dimensions of space), there could potentially be 10 to the 500th power more universes out there. This is why I need to make friends with a physicist, because I always have more questions at this stage. How did they figure this out? What has led to this conclusion? How does it work, the other dimensions, to allow for 10 to the 500th power universes, and is there "room" for more? It's so interesting to me, but I've never actively pursued my scientific interests to be able to understand it on my own. The article I read about this was like 5 pages, and it took me almost 45 minutes to read it and understand it (for anyone vaguely interested, it was "Out There" from an old issue of the New York Times Magazine). I'm always trying to find well-written, accessible material on these subjects, but they are hard to come by.
The mind is a tricky bitch. I remember reading once that there are areas of the brain that light up when we are angry, or are concentrating on a math problem, or what have you, but that when people are asked to think about their consciousness, there is no one area that lights up, i.e. no one area in the brain where our consciousness resides. This same article suggested that perhaps our brains had not evolved to the point where we could comprehend our own consciousness. The philosopher Miguel de Unamuno wrote in "Tragic Sense of Life" that when you "try to fill your consciousness with the representation of no-consciousness...you will see the impossibility of it. The effort to comprehend it causes the most tormenting dizziness. We cannot conceive of ourselves as not existing." I have experienced that mental dizziness most notably at two times in my life: when I contemplate death (to which Unamuno is referring) and when I contemplate the universe. I remember the first time I very seriously thought about death. I was in my mom's brown Ford Explorer, and I had to be about 11 or so. We were driving through FW, at the intersection of 348th and Enchanted Parkway, and I remember thinking about the idea of "forever." Brought up in the Catholic faith, I had begun to question the idea of "heaven," and I remember trying to think about what it would be like to die, but to live on in my consciousness forever. My brain literally shut down--there was an impasse which could not let me think about it, and I remember being hugely terrified at this moment. (Incidentally, and another little mental oddity, I remember this sequence in shades of blue. Many of my memories occur to me in different shades of the same color. The time period after my parents' divorce is all in shades of brown in my memory. Isn't that nuts?)
I've also been really interested in evolutionary psychology lately, for the reason that it brings up these topics like consciousness and our beliefs about the afterlife. Apparently, there is a debate ocurring right now as to whether the human capacity for religion serves an evolutionary purpose or not. One group believes that religion aided the survival of our early ancestors; it helped them form functioning groups because religion influences individuals to make sacrifices for the group--be more selfless and less individualistic, which benefits the group at large. There is another group (whose arguments I find much more compelling) who believe that the human brain's capacity to contemplate our exisence and our willingness to insert God into such contemplation is simply a byproduct of our evolutionary mental processes. Our ability to fill in a narrative of fantasy served our ancestors well; it aided their survival to be able to imagine a bear when what was really there was a rock or imagine the intentions/thoughts of a predator. While belief in miracles, or gods, or whatever, fills no immediate role in our survival, it is a natural extension of the process of inserting narratives where none exist. We do not know what others are thinking, but we can imagine it. We do not know why we exist, but we can imagine it. The byproduct theorists call it a "spandrel," which in architecture is something that is an outcome but was not the intended purpose. For example, the space under a staircase is a spandrel; it's the byproduct of the staircase, and it doesn't matter how the space is used, but it has nothing to do with the original purpose of a staircase. Apparently, the capacity of our minds to imagine God is a spandrel of the instincts that kept us alive and out of the jaws of predators. This line of thought can also explain why most religions have several core beliefs that are universal; they are ideas that most comfortably fit within out "mental architecture." It relates to Unamuno's idea, in that it is much easier for our mental construction to imagine that we will keep on existing. The idea that really got me out of this whole article (another gem from New York Times Magazine, although I have forgotten the title or author, but I saved this quote) is that "athiests have to work hard at being athiests, to resist slipping into intrinsic habits of mind that make it easier to believe than not to believe." That could explain the reason 84-year-old life-long athiest scholar Anthony Flew back-pedaled so devastatingly on his core beliefs in his later years; a mind in decline is no longer as able to resist its instinctual deceptions.
I'm really afraid of getting old. Not necessarily because of fear of death, or the unknown, because I feel pretty certainly that there is nothing beyond what we have here on Earth, and I'm as okay with that as possible. However, I am horrifically afraid of the possibility of the decline of my mind. I think of my great-grandmother, who has very little control over her thoughts, reactions, words, and as a result, her life is slipping away before she physically passes. She cannot take care of herself, but she is still "living." How ghastly.
The mind is a tricky bitch. I remember reading once that there are areas of the brain that light up when we are angry, or are concentrating on a math problem, or what have you, but that when people are asked to think about their consciousness, there is no one area that lights up, i.e. no one area in the brain where our consciousness resides. This same article suggested that perhaps our brains had not evolved to the point where we could comprehend our own consciousness. The philosopher Miguel de Unamuno wrote in "Tragic Sense of Life" that when you "try to fill your consciousness with the representation of no-consciousness...you will see the impossibility of it. The effort to comprehend it causes the most tormenting dizziness. We cannot conceive of ourselves as not existing." I have experienced that mental dizziness most notably at two times in my life: when I contemplate death (to which Unamuno is referring) and when I contemplate the universe. I remember the first time I very seriously thought about death. I was in my mom's brown Ford Explorer, and I had to be about 11 or so. We were driving through FW, at the intersection of 348th and Enchanted Parkway, and I remember thinking about the idea of "forever." Brought up in the Catholic faith, I had begun to question the idea of "heaven," and I remember trying to think about what it would be like to die, but to live on in my consciousness forever. My brain literally shut down--there was an impasse which could not let me think about it, and I remember being hugely terrified at this moment. (Incidentally, and another little mental oddity, I remember this sequence in shades of blue. Many of my memories occur to me in different shades of the same color. The time period after my parents' divorce is all in shades of brown in my memory. Isn't that nuts?)
I've also been really interested in evolutionary psychology lately, for the reason that it brings up these topics like consciousness and our beliefs about the afterlife. Apparently, there is a debate ocurring right now as to whether the human capacity for religion serves an evolutionary purpose or not. One group believes that religion aided the survival of our early ancestors; it helped them form functioning groups because religion influences individuals to make sacrifices for the group--be more selfless and less individualistic, which benefits the group at large. There is another group (whose arguments I find much more compelling) who believe that the human brain's capacity to contemplate our exisence and our willingness to insert God into such contemplation is simply a byproduct of our evolutionary mental processes. Our ability to fill in a narrative of fantasy served our ancestors well; it aided their survival to be able to imagine a bear when what was really there was a rock or imagine the intentions/thoughts of a predator. While belief in miracles, or gods, or whatever, fills no immediate role in our survival, it is a natural extension of the process of inserting narratives where none exist. We do not know what others are thinking, but we can imagine it. We do not know why we exist, but we can imagine it. The byproduct theorists call it a "spandrel," which in architecture is something that is an outcome but was not the intended purpose. For example, the space under a staircase is a spandrel; it's the byproduct of the staircase, and it doesn't matter how the space is used, but it has nothing to do with the original purpose of a staircase. Apparently, the capacity of our minds to imagine God is a spandrel of the instincts that kept us alive and out of the jaws of predators. This line of thought can also explain why most religions have several core beliefs that are universal; they are ideas that most comfortably fit within out "mental architecture." It relates to Unamuno's idea, in that it is much easier for our mental construction to imagine that we will keep on existing. The idea that really got me out of this whole article (another gem from New York Times Magazine, although I have forgotten the title or author, but I saved this quote) is that "athiests have to work hard at being athiests, to resist slipping into intrinsic habits of mind that make it easier to believe than not to believe." That could explain the reason 84-year-old life-long athiest scholar Anthony Flew back-pedaled so devastatingly on his core beliefs in his later years; a mind in decline is no longer as able to resist its instinctual deceptions.
I'm really afraid of getting old. Not necessarily because of fear of death, or the unknown, because I feel pretty certainly that there is nothing beyond what we have here on Earth, and I'm as okay with that as possible. However, I am horrifically afraid of the possibility of the decline of my mind. I think of my great-grandmother, who has very little control over her thoughts, reactions, words, and as a result, her life is slipping away before she physically passes. She cannot take care of herself, but she is still "living." How ghastly.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
For practice:
Shane helped me put my pictures online, or something, and I just wanted to make sure I knew how to put it in my blog so that when I start getting cool pictures in Chile, I can post them for people back home. So here's a picture of some grapes that grew at our house last summer:
Oh, and the baby gatos, Maeby and Tobias (r.i.p.):
Oh, and the baby gatos, Maeby and Tobias (r.i.p.):
Monday, February 11, 2008
I'm getting closer to my home
When I was younger, after my parents were divorced, my dad adopted this little ritual with us. Sometimes we'd be in his station wagon, Brandon, Dad and me, coming home from Grandma's, or an errand, and as we started to get closer to the house, if a really great song came on the radio, dad would drive us around the block to listen to the end of the song. The ones that always got us: "Let it Be," the only Beatles song I've ever really loved; "House of the Rising Sun," which was kind of a joke between Dad and me, for a reason I don't really recall; "American Pie," and Dad would always talk about the story the song was telling; and the ultimate around-the-block song, Grand Funk Railroad's "I'm Your Captain (Closer to Home)." I thought about this ritual of ours this weekend, because by some sort of miracle, when I was coming home late in the night on both Friday and Saturday, as I got near my house, "American Pie" came on the radio. Twice! On both nights! I thought about driving around the block, but it wouldn't have been the same without my dad and Brandon. I will never be able to replicate how I felt then; Brandon and I would beg dad to drive around the block, and he wouldn't let on what his decision was, and then without warning we'd sail past the driveway and keep going. Dad always blasted the heater until it was so warm you thought you'd suffocate, and we'd sing and watch the familiar surroundings of our neighborhood roll past. I remember on nights like this that I never wanted to arrive back home and leave the car. I wanted us to keep driving and driving, listening to great music, warm and safe and protected and together. I miss that feeling. I miss the togetherness.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
I'm a mess, I'm a mess
So, lately I've been functioning in a constant state of crisis. Perhaps inspired by the recent Brit Brit tragedy, I had approximately five meltdowns last week. Okay, probably not five, but I had a couple. I hope this doesn't continue for the next five weeks!
I can't even remember what I was so stressed about early last week, but I had another altercation with a doctor on Friday. Of course I did. I got a call on Wednesday night from a doctor at the travel medicine clinic to schedule me for a yellow fever vaccination. It's complicated, because the US has a shortage of these vacs right now, but I have to have one if I'm going to visit Bolivia. They don't let you in the country without one. So, because of the shortage, the yellow fever vaccinations are rationed out to different clinics, and once you open it, the vac goes bad in an hour, so you have to have everyone all lined up. Fine, okay, I get it. But when the doc called me, she said she was taking a poll of what times would work for everyone and she would call me back to confirm. I'm pretty sure she said that. But even if she didn't, there was some sort of miscommunication that could not have entirely been my fault. Anyway, I got a call from her on Friday morning, and she was steamed that I had missed my apparent appointment and a dose of vaccination had been wasted. I was like, "I was waiting for a confirmation!" and she was like, very firmly, "No, we were confirmed." Anyway, I guess it wasn't a big deal, but nonetheless I was pissed and then kind of stressed because the doctor seemed so annoyed and I didn't know if she was going to be very helpful with round two. As it turns out, she called me yesterday and we will try again this Friday. I'm confirmed this time, for sure.
Friday was just a hell of a day, actually, because my car has been malfunctioning, and so Brandon and I ran around while I was supposed to be working, trying to get it taken care of. Then I had an appointment with my endo, and she wrote me about 15 prescriptions. We talked about my diabetes and how I need to deal with transporting things, taking proper precautions...things I know but don't necessarily enjoy confronting. So that stressed me out. And because I know her from diabetic camp circa 1990, there was a goodbye scenario in which she got kind of weepy. I've been trying to avoid weepiness in general because I just don't want to get started with it, you know? Also, she asked me if I was going to have an going-away party, which is something I've been avoiding because I don't want it to be too emotional or anything. But I guess it makes sense, because otherwise I will have to see everyone individually and who has the time for that? But I really wasn't ready to start thinking about it, so it took me by surprise. And then I felt overwhelmed again. [I've decided to have a party, by the way. On Sunday, March 2. It will be madness, and my goal is to not cry.]
On the way home, my dad called me and made me feel worse about things [not his intention, I know]. I was whining, and he was like, "It's only nine months." By the way, I've told my father innumerable times that I'm going away for a year! He knows that's my plan and always has been. However, he apparently has it in his mind that I'm going to run home with my tail between my legs at the end of my teaching. Goddamn it pisses me off, and also really hurts my feelings. Does he have no faith in me, in my strength, in my ability to survive and do something challenging and amazing? Apparently not. I feel like he doesn't understand me sometimes. A lot of the time. Isn't it amazing that someone can create you, raise you, and then not understand an entire part of you? Where did the disconnect come from? Although there are precendents; we went through this with AmeriCorps. He did not understand why I couldn't just get a good job, make some good money. I mean, I had a degree, after all!
Some good came out of all of this, though. I was feeling pissy about all of it, and I impulsively called Jacob, and to my surprise and delight, he called me back! I think we're going to be okay. Things felt remarkably the same, except in the back of my mind, I know they're different. And that's okay, I guess. Things change. I just don't think he has any idea what I went through. Anyway, I'm not going to dissect it any more than I already have. At least not here. Although, he did say something very dad-like to me. Again, I was whining, and he was like, "So, what, are you not going?" And I was like, "Umm, that's not even an option." I would never not go. How long have I been wanting this? It doesn't mean it's easy, though. Do these men even know me at all? Do I project some sort of image that I am prone to crumble and back out of things? Maybe I should just keep my goddamn mouth shut. No more whining. It goes nowhere. And I feel worse.
Also, my mom informed me last week that she wants me to pack up all the shit in my room so that someone else can move in. I wish I had known that when I moved in two months ago, because I would have made different choices in getting settled. That pissed me off, actually. And she's pressuring me to quit my third job at the end of February. I was planning to work prettymuch up until the end so that I didn't have too much time to myself to think about leaving and get scared. But it does make sense to leave myself enough time, apparently, to pack up my room, among other things. It's just that, my mom bossing me around does not go over well at this age. She makes a good point, but she's so combative about it that it makes me irrationally want to do the opposite of what she says. It's like I'm in high school all over again. Like I said, these are all endearing qualities of my mother that I'm sure I will miss in approximately three months, but for right now it's not making things any easier.
Can I please just say, though, that the bright spot in my week has been Shane? We had plans on Monday night to hang out and he was going to help me figure out my technolgy, i.e. how to work my digital camera properly and post pictures online and stuff. Anymore, we see each other about twice a year, but he is always a source of comfort for me. He is amazing, by the way. As I was driving home after seeing him...I don't know how to put it into words without sounding schmaltzy, but I was just so full of love for him. He is such a good person. It's amazing to me that I can spend about two years with someone, and five years later, after not seeing each other very much, he still knows exactly who I am. I didn't intend to, but I kind of unloaded a bunch of my stuff on him--it was so natural though and felt so right, everything just came out. And he has the best advice. I am always impressed by his ability to offer insights from such a unique perspective that I had never considered what he was saying before, but when he says it to me, it just makes so much sense. I feel really comfortable with him, I feel safe with him, I trust him, I adore him. Spending time with him like that always reminds me why I was in love with him all those years ago. I feel like the friendship I have with him now is so much more profound than what I had with him, years ago, my first love, but we never would have gotten here without the past. The best part, though, is that we can go so long without contact, but fall back into the routine of relating with such ease. Those are the friendships that last. I'm so lucky that he's still a part of my life. Wow. So lucky.
I can't even remember what I was so stressed about early last week, but I had another altercation with a doctor on Friday. Of course I did. I got a call on Wednesday night from a doctor at the travel medicine clinic to schedule me for a yellow fever vaccination. It's complicated, because the US has a shortage of these vacs right now, but I have to have one if I'm going to visit Bolivia. They don't let you in the country without one. So, because of the shortage, the yellow fever vaccinations are rationed out to different clinics, and once you open it, the vac goes bad in an hour, so you have to have everyone all lined up. Fine, okay, I get it. But when the doc called me, she said she was taking a poll of what times would work for everyone and she would call me back to confirm. I'm pretty sure she said that. But even if she didn't, there was some sort of miscommunication that could not have entirely been my fault. Anyway, I got a call from her on Friday morning, and she was steamed that I had missed my apparent appointment and a dose of vaccination had been wasted. I was like, "I was waiting for a confirmation!" and she was like, very firmly, "No, we were confirmed." Anyway, I guess it wasn't a big deal, but nonetheless I was pissed and then kind of stressed because the doctor seemed so annoyed and I didn't know if she was going to be very helpful with round two. As it turns out, she called me yesterday and we will try again this Friday. I'm confirmed this time, for sure.
Friday was just a hell of a day, actually, because my car has been malfunctioning, and so Brandon and I ran around while I was supposed to be working, trying to get it taken care of. Then I had an appointment with my endo, and she wrote me about 15 prescriptions. We talked about my diabetes and how I need to deal with transporting things, taking proper precautions...things I know but don't necessarily enjoy confronting. So that stressed me out. And because I know her from diabetic camp circa 1990, there was a goodbye scenario in which she got kind of weepy. I've been trying to avoid weepiness in general because I just don't want to get started with it, you know? Also, she asked me if I was going to have an going-away party, which is something I've been avoiding because I don't want it to be too emotional or anything. But I guess it makes sense, because otherwise I will have to see everyone individually and who has the time for that? But I really wasn't ready to start thinking about it, so it took me by surprise. And then I felt overwhelmed again. [I've decided to have a party, by the way. On Sunday, March 2. It will be madness, and my goal is to not cry.]
On the way home, my dad called me and made me feel worse about things [not his intention, I know]. I was whining, and he was like, "It's only nine months." By the way, I've told my father innumerable times that I'm going away for a year! He knows that's my plan and always has been. However, he apparently has it in his mind that I'm going to run home with my tail between my legs at the end of my teaching. Goddamn it pisses me off, and also really hurts my feelings. Does he have no faith in me, in my strength, in my ability to survive and do something challenging and amazing? Apparently not. I feel like he doesn't understand me sometimes. A lot of the time. Isn't it amazing that someone can create you, raise you, and then not understand an entire part of you? Where did the disconnect come from? Although there are precendents; we went through this with AmeriCorps. He did not understand why I couldn't just get a good job, make some good money. I mean, I had a degree, after all!
Some good came out of all of this, though. I was feeling pissy about all of it, and I impulsively called Jacob, and to my surprise and delight, he called me back! I think we're going to be okay. Things felt remarkably the same, except in the back of my mind, I know they're different. And that's okay, I guess. Things change. I just don't think he has any idea what I went through. Anyway, I'm not going to dissect it any more than I already have. At least not here. Although, he did say something very dad-like to me. Again, I was whining, and he was like, "So, what, are you not going?" And I was like, "Umm, that's not even an option." I would never not go. How long have I been wanting this? It doesn't mean it's easy, though. Do these men even know me at all? Do I project some sort of image that I am prone to crumble and back out of things? Maybe I should just keep my goddamn mouth shut. No more whining. It goes nowhere. And I feel worse.
Also, my mom informed me last week that she wants me to pack up all the shit in my room so that someone else can move in. I wish I had known that when I moved in two months ago, because I would have made different choices in getting settled. That pissed me off, actually. And she's pressuring me to quit my third job at the end of February. I was planning to work prettymuch up until the end so that I didn't have too much time to myself to think about leaving and get scared. But it does make sense to leave myself enough time, apparently, to pack up my room, among other things. It's just that, my mom bossing me around does not go over well at this age. She makes a good point, but she's so combative about it that it makes me irrationally want to do the opposite of what she says. It's like I'm in high school all over again. Like I said, these are all endearing qualities of my mother that I'm sure I will miss in approximately three months, but for right now it's not making things any easier.
Can I please just say, though, that the bright spot in my week has been Shane? We had plans on Monday night to hang out and he was going to help me figure out my technolgy, i.e. how to work my digital camera properly and post pictures online and stuff. Anymore, we see each other about twice a year, but he is always a source of comfort for me. He is amazing, by the way. As I was driving home after seeing him...I don't know how to put it into words without sounding schmaltzy, but I was just so full of love for him. He is such a good person. It's amazing to me that I can spend about two years with someone, and five years later, after not seeing each other very much, he still knows exactly who I am. I didn't intend to, but I kind of unloaded a bunch of my stuff on him--it was so natural though and felt so right, everything just came out. And he has the best advice. I am always impressed by his ability to offer insights from such a unique perspective that I had never considered what he was saying before, but when he says it to me, it just makes so much sense. I feel really comfortable with him, I feel safe with him, I trust him, I adore him. Spending time with him like that always reminds me why I was in love with him all those years ago. I feel like the friendship I have with him now is so much more profound than what I had with him, years ago, my first love, but we never would have gotten here without the past. The best part, though, is that we can go so long without contact, but fall back into the routine of relating with such ease. Those are the friendships that last. I'm so lucky that he's still a part of my life. Wow. So lucky.
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