The Beginning...to the End.

January 11, 2008

6:45 AM

My first entry of the new year. I apologize for the gap between my last posting and now. A lot has happened in the past month.

Well, by a lot I mean I took a couple weeks vacation back home in Chicago. A lot in the sense that I had not been home for a year and half. A lot in the sense that reverse culture-shock is very real. A lot in the sense that I have a renewed outlook on the remainder of my Peace Corps service.

I was very ignorant to the effects of reverse culture-shock. It sounded like a buzz word to me. Something used by overanalyzing psychologists who needed to categorize a set of emotions. My ignorance came around and kicked me in the ass. (Sorry to all psychologists for mentally insulting you.) The pace of life, the sounds, the people, the lights. I found myself in sensory overload. There was too much stimulation. My body and mind were not ready to face the impersonal world of the U.S. My first few days back were a mess of jet-lag and culture shock (which feels comparable to a pain-killer high coupled with a tequila hangover).

I forgot how much America is; it is everywhere. Everywhere something and someone is happening. Watching the States through the internet and random magazines is deceiving. I thought I had a decent grasp on the happenings of life back home. I had kept up on news, emails, and letters and had done my best to stay in touch with life back home. Though now I feel like I was playing the role of controller for the Mars Rover. I had videos, pictures, data, and feedback. Still nothing could come close to actually being there. The You Tube-CNN-NFL Network-iPhone-Starbucks culture of the States wasn’t much different (in pace) than when I left to come to Kyrgyzstan. I was just more conscious of the amount of images and information thrown around every nanosecond. Eventually I was able to settle in a bit and by the time I left I had acquired a very new and unique perspective on my life.

I think I’ve finally come to accept the what I may never be a part of. I say this in terms of my passions, my interests and my future. There is just so much that interests me and so much I want to know about. At some point, though, I believe I need to make some choices. A mentor of mine from college (Martin!) is fond of describing people in terms of “an inch deep and a mile wide or an inch wide and a mile deep.” I would prefer to be the latter. This doesn’t mean I’m going to disregard parts of life, rather I am going to give all of my heart to the parts of life I know that are me. I can still have outside interests and loves, but when I try too hard to want to know everything is when I overwhelm myself and end up really knowing nothing.

This translates to my Peace Corps service in that I am going to spend the next several months giving all I can to things and people I know I can help. In my case, I am a people person. I believe that I can teach people a lot (and in return learn a lot from them) through simple dialogue. I have seen and experienced a lot for my young age. I have a passion to share what I have learned. This is where my students and host family come into play. I believe my greatest contribution to the people I work with in my village can be done through sharing the lessons I’ve learned, and in turn taking lessons from them. Sure, I would love to fix every problem in my village, improve the life of every villager I live with. But there is just too much. For every new project or plan I start or organize I find myself stretching thinner and thinner. I have chosen to make a difference, to have an impact on the lives of the people I live with, by giving everything I can to a few important things.


After Peace Corps, I know I need translate this new thought process back home. I am slowly getting a grasp on where I want to go with my life. Really focusing on who I am and how I can turn this into something tangible has helped with my grip. Though after my trip home, I truly believe it is going to be just as hard (if not harder) in many ways to return home. When the times comes I will be ecstatic to head back and see family and friends; but I will also need to face up to who I was and who I want to be. My time here has changed me, there is no questioning that. My challenge for heading home will be to find out in what ways I’ve changed and how to transfer what I’ve seen and learned here into life back in the States.



January 11, 2008

5:15 PM

My current mental wrestling match: Where do I belong?

Take the question in all the ways it can be read:

Physically - There is something obvious and reassuring knowing that I will eventually return to the States; to Chicago. There is also something ominous and scary knowing that I will eventually return to the States; to Chicago.

Mentally - The past year and half was like an explosion I knew was going to happen. An explosion, though, I had suppressed for so long by trying so hard to ignite it. Not a bad explosion; I’m talking about explosions of creativity, love, life, and understanding. For so long I kept planning the beginning moment of my creativity explosion. (Seriously, who in the hell plans their own moments of creativity?) I spent the better part of college blossoming at pace faster than time, but suppressing it with youthful ignorance.

As for love; well, yeah, love. Then second I stop pressing to find it, it met me…while she was leaving the bathroom. She is now the hand that caresses my soul, the scent that lingers in my dreams.

And for the explosion of life and understanding, I have no way to describe it. I constantly feel the bursting of life around me and more and more everyday I understand a little bit more.

Spiritually - We are all gods waiting to discover our ability of dialogue with the rest of the world (human and non-human). Some already have the ability of dialogue, others may never discover it.

Now, where do I belong?

I have no idea, lets get that out right away. For most of my late teens until about a year ago, I’ve always felt like I wanted to be somewhere else. Every place I was would be overshadowed by my thoughts of where else I wanted to be. I enjoyed concerts with the constant thought of the stories I would be able to relate to others once the show was over. I took road trips that always had another stop. I traveled the world and took as many pictures as I could so that I could enjoy my experiences afterwards.

My desire to want to be some place else has recently been replaced recently with an overbearing thought of believing I belong somewhere else. This thought process has an entire different feel to it. I no longer feel restless. I have acquired an ability to enjoy the moment more. The thought of belonging somewhere else could be better described as knowing I belong to something and somewhere. I am learning to enjoy the little moments; but I am also feeling an increasingly heavy belief that I am meant to be something.

This may come off as egotistical, but I believe it is far from it. I believe the roots of this thought are humble and grounded. They stem from the seeds of a passion for life. A desire to know more, to feel and love with everything my body allows. I am meant to be something. I have never been so sure of anything else in my life. It comes from the pressure, the joy, the anxiety. It comes from every morning waking up to the weight of the world. It comes the very real understanding every night I lay down to sleep that I may not wake up.

The world is waiting to explode. And I am not talking about gun powder and nuclear fission. I am talking about the rebirth of beauty, love, and understanding. Yeah, I may be lost in my own thoughts here. But while people predict the date of World War III, I am choosing to predict the coming of cultural revolution. I believe we are on the brink of a global revolution. We are teetering on the edge of global warming, America and Europe are being joined by the East as world powers, and technology is no longer advancing (it is warping).

I believe I am part of this revolution. I believe that we all are. Though I have no idea how.



January 12, 2008

7:20 AM

Yesterday morning I rose to the sight of snow. By the end of the day the snow level in my village had reached around a foot and a half. The people in my village are saying this is the most snow they’ve gotten in four years. I love snow, so this is fun. Yesterday I got pinned (twice) by my host father during a snow fight. (The man is six foot three inches and easily two-hundred and eight pounds.) I got yelled at by my host sister because I gave her a white-wash (she provoked it) and I took a thousand pictures of Sezim playing in the snow. I even spent an hour or so shoveling a few paths in the driveway (a path to the outhouse, to the road, and to the garage--where Kanopka and her puppies are).

Yesterday was fun. I needed yesterday. It was good to get outside and play around with the host family. They, as much as my English club girls, keep me going here and keep me focused. I have no question that a large factor in happiness here comes from having a good host family. I realize that now more than ever and I a grateful to them letting me into their family.

And on a very Peace Corps-ish side note: snow can mean fun, but it can also mean water. Yep, I’ve been collecting buckets all day and melting them in my room for water to pass through the distillers. It makes me smile because on one hand it strikes me as the quintessential Peace Corps thing to do. On the other hand, I smile because it was part of my natural train of thought. “Snow is falling. Oh, probably should collect some buckets for water.”

Plus, after some investigation I found out the few pumps in the village we collect water from were snowed in. So, I guess melting snow is my best option for a few days. Oh, Kyrgyzstan, I love you.



January 18, 2008

11:00 AM

Is striving to improve myself and acquire as much knowledge as I can a selfish act?

What is selfish and what is not?

I want to be, I know that. Beyond being I still have a lot to figure out.