I must be a seasonal writer. I somehow manage to blog at the beginning and end of each season. I figured it was becoming time to let go of a little of my old life and give myself a new...outlook...on the world wide web. So, out with the old and in with the fact that I have too much time on my hands.
Since the last time I ranted to no one in particular, I have traveled far and wide over this great country we call the US of A. From East Coast to West Coast, I've visited friends and family looking for a place to call my own. And somehow, I still end up home, in Wyo. Nothing wrong with that of course. People here can't get enough of me. However, when you've outdone yourself by the age of 25, it leaves too much room for improvement. It also gives you a big head in which you believe yourself qualified for all types of occupations from Project Manager of a 'world renown' NGO to barista at a local cafe. And at the ravenous pace of which I am applying to jobs, I could find myself cleaning the shitters at a 'world renown' National park by next week, or recruiting poor fools to enter the same 2 year post I held by November. Whatever the outcome, here I find myself, 4 months home (hmm...) without a job (yikes...) and living with my parents (fun!!!).
But there is no use in feeling sorry for one's self. My opportunities are endless and only limited by a shit economy where the jobs I am qualified for don't exist because people can't afford another employee and the jobs that are available I am so far overqualified for I may as well be a PhD in manual labor, outdoor work or food service. Really the only person I take advice from anymore, much to the dismay of family and friends, is my online horoscope since it passes no judgment and lets me interpret the advice myself. In my own world, I can understand the following sentence of "A full moon tonight is your invitation to stop feeling obliged to accept an unsatisfactory situation and to set about changing it!" to actually mean "Lisa, there is no reason why you should be watching the Real Housewives of New Jersey without a box of wine! Go get that Shiraz girl and alter this unsatisfactory situation into a extremely satisfactory one!!" Of course, I could be more mature than that...I could buy a bottle instead of a box.
But in the end, I think constantly of Uganda. Constantly of those I love there. Constantly of how to make a meaningful life here, rather than there. And, even, constantly of how I can get myself back there. Gramps tells Sar and I, " You know what they say about nostalgia? It's the wave of the future." Everyone's got a right to their glory days.
Sometimes, it's a sad strange journey, rather than just a strange one. And all you can do to hold on is embrace it, and when you get to the fork in the road - take it.
Wow. That was corny.
...I guess I don't just listen to my horoscope. What do you know, Gramps?!
8.24.2010
6.10.2010
Airport Disco Manifesto
Well into June and what have I done with my time? Well, plenty, if you are going by Ugandan time. I suppose I cant discredit myself too much here - I have been able to jump from airport to airport and road to road, letting them take me to places I've never been. Thailand and Cambodia are done, well done. Ohio came and went and Holly got hitched and looked absolutely fabulous doing it.
There have been times of extreme exhaustion where I want nothing more than to be in my bed in Cheyenne and watch hours upon hours of True Blood (who knew?). The funny thing is, is that when I get to do just that, I suddenly want to be somewhere else, doing something else, so I don't make myself feel lazy. My parents have been rock stars, letting me take my time being a bum or swing in and out of their homes as I please. People call me a world traveler and welcome me home, but I am starting to realize something - I don't think I'm exactly addicted to traveling, but I do think that I am addicted to not being home, to not even being in America. It's a strange feeling, one that I'm going to try to fight the next year while I make American plans for myself.
But, no pressure, right? That's what I think. The truth is, my biggest enemy being back home is myself. It's that side of myself that is telling me to get a job, to go out and enjoy the beautiful day (ummm, Lisa...you had two flippin years of beautiful days, can't you just watch TV now? Actually, no. My attention span, while in tune to staring at a whitewashed wall and reading a book for 4 hours in blistering heat, cannot handle more than an hour of the succubus known as TV). That part of myself, dare I say my American self, that needs to feel accomplished and productive pushes me more and more everyday to get a shitty job I don't like or to apply to schools even though the last thing I want to do right now is go back to paying thousands of dollars just so I can read (yeah, liberal arts!!).
I want a direction. A passion, even. And I don't want to spend the next year worrying that I gave up my passion by coming home. So, now when people ask me "what are you going to do?" "what are your plans?" "what do you do all day?" All I can say is " I don't know." "My plan is to find my own direction." and "Whatever the hell I want."
Let's be honest - life could be worse. I actually think I've got a pretty good thing going here...yeah, I can't really tell any of you what exactly that 'thing' is, I can't even pinpoint it myself, but what is important to me is that I stay on a true and righteous path to myself. I love home. Home is good. But home comes to encompass more and more places the older we get. Right now, home to me is my family, my friends, a windy, rolling prairie with amazing storms and beautiful sunsets. It's also cock crow at 430am, one of two chairs in my modest home in Kaliro, riding my bike up to the NTC after a bead workshop, a cold (or hot) Eagle, soul food by Agnes and Susan's nagging.
But enough of that. I've seen some good shit the past month and a half outta PC. I've had warm reunions, good food, great conversations and the most comfortable beds this side of the Atlantic (no more flippin foam!). I do spend a good part of my time looking through pictures of Uganda and trying not to feel sorry for myself. Keeping busy also helps, although I'm afraid I channeled my feral side every now and then when things get a bit overwhelming - those of you who know me, know Feral Lisa fairly well: watery eyes, quivering chin, a bit of yelling here and there, red face, shaky voice, if there is a door to be slammed, it will be; if there is something that can be thrown, it will be...and all of this within minutes of Happy Lisa. I think my mother has witnessed the Feral Lisa episodes the most - shoe shopping brought on my anxiety attack at freakin' Frontier Mall (not a good idea to have a panic attack when shopping for things that you will wear in public. Then your mother - who is meant to be the voice of reason - will just let you do what you want and not get in your way for fear of Feral Lisa rearing her ugly head once again - and then you'll buy blue, 5 in., snake skin heels meant for the local amputee stripper at the Green Door, but you'll find it a good idea to wear them to your best friends wedding (don't worry, I returned them the next day)). And then I had to go the grocery store...why cant there just be one kind of tortilla chip? No funky shapes, no 'no salt added' or 'lime flavour'...i just want a damn tortilla chip.
Ahhh...the things to cherish about culture shock in your own country. It's enough to make me want another Negra Modelo and enjoy my "strip" shaped tortilla chips and guac. Until next time, enjoy the few following pictures from Thai/Cambodia.
Cheers.
Khao San with the women
waiting for the bus to Cambodia
girl at Angkor
There have been times of extreme exhaustion where I want nothing more than to be in my bed in Cheyenne and watch hours upon hours of True Blood (who knew?). The funny thing is, is that when I get to do just that, I suddenly want to be somewhere else, doing something else, so I don't make myself feel lazy. My parents have been rock stars, letting me take my time being a bum or swing in and out of their homes as I please. People call me a world traveler and welcome me home, but I am starting to realize something - I don't think I'm exactly addicted to traveling, but I do think that I am addicted to not being home, to not even being in America. It's a strange feeling, one that I'm going to try to fight the next year while I make American plans for myself.
But, no pressure, right? That's what I think. The truth is, my biggest enemy being back home is myself. It's that side of myself that is telling me to get a job, to go out and enjoy the beautiful day (ummm, Lisa...you had two flippin years of beautiful days, can't you just watch TV now? Actually, no. My attention span, while in tune to staring at a whitewashed wall and reading a book for 4 hours in blistering heat, cannot handle more than an hour of the succubus known as TV). That part of myself, dare I say my American self, that needs to feel accomplished and productive pushes me more and more everyday to get a shitty job I don't like or to apply to schools even though the last thing I want to do right now is go back to paying thousands of dollars just so I can read (yeah, liberal arts!!).
I want a direction. A passion, even. And I don't want to spend the next year worrying that I gave up my passion by coming home. So, now when people ask me "what are you going to do?" "what are your plans?" "what do you do all day?" All I can say is " I don't know." "My plan is to find my own direction." and "Whatever the hell I want."
Let's be honest - life could be worse. I actually think I've got a pretty good thing going here...yeah, I can't really tell any of you what exactly that 'thing' is, I can't even pinpoint it myself, but what is important to me is that I stay on a true and righteous path to myself. I love home. Home is good. But home comes to encompass more and more places the older we get. Right now, home to me is my family, my friends, a windy, rolling prairie with amazing storms and beautiful sunsets. It's also cock crow at 430am, one of two chairs in my modest home in Kaliro, riding my bike up to the NTC after a bead workshop, a cold (or hot) Eagle, soul food by Agnes and Susan's nagging.
But enough of that. I've seen some good shit the past month and a half outta PC. I've had warm reunions, good food, great conversations and the most comfortable beds this side of the Atlantic (no more flippin foam!). I do spend a good part of my time looking through pictures of Uganda and trying not to feel sorry for myself. Keeping busy also helps, although I'm afraid I channeled my feral side every now and then when things get a bit overwhelming - those of you who know me, know Feral Lisa fairly well: watery eyes, quivering chin, a bit of yelling here and there, red face, shaky voice, if there is a door to be slammed, it will be; if there is something that can be thrown, it will be...and all of this within minutes of Happy Lisa. I think my mother has witnessed the Feral Lisa episodes the most - shoe shopping brought on my anxiety attack at freakin' Frontier Mall (not a good idea to have a panic attack when shopping for things that you will wear in public. Then your mother - who is meant to be the voice of reason - will just let you do what you want and not get in your way for fear of Feral Lisa rearing her ugly head once again - and then you'll buy blue, 5 in., snake skin heels meant for the local amputee stripper at the Green Door, but you'll find it a good idea to wear them to your best friends wedding (don't worry, I returned them the next day)). And then I had to go the grocery store...why cant there just be one kind of tortilla chip? No funky shapes, no 'no salt added' or 'lime flavour'...i just want a damn tortilla chip.
Ahhh...the things to cherish about culture shock in your own country. It's enough to make me want another Negra Modelo and enjoy my "strip" shaped tortilla chips and guac. Until next time, enjoy the few following pictures from Thai/Cambodia.
Cheers.
Khao San with the women
Grand Palace Stupa
Chiang Mai temple
elephant walk - chiang mai thailand
waiting for the bus to Cambodia
SSiem Reap, Cambodia
Angkor Wat Tower at sunrise, Cambodia
Devatas inside Angkor Wat
girl at Angkor
last night in Bangkok - bubble bath and bloody mary's
5.04.2010
Caught in between/ What I cant leave behind/And what I may never find
First week in America. Someone told me that if I don't like it too much here, not to fret - I'll be going to Thailand soon.
But dislike isn't what's on my mind. I actually felt very neutral about being here, at first. It could be that it hadn't "hit" me yet, or that I just felt like I was visiting - whatever it is, it has left me feeling rather strange. Driving myself around almost gives me a sense of independence that I wasn't quite ready for. And driving a vehicle all alone after so many months of being crammed into one with 22 other people is a rather lonely experience. Not that I exactly miss mutatu rides or the rush of seeing my life flash before my eyes every 10 minutes, or the leering gaze of some man who wants a muzungu wife, or that annoying over-the-shoulder reader next to me who is reading my text messages - but it is some form of 'missing' that I feel. Most people would say that I was just 'used to it'. Yeah, I was used to it - and I loved it all.
Not gonna lie, there is a feeling of my freedom being lost (even if I've gained independence with a car), that I feel for some reason coming back to America. I'm not sure why, since my Ugandan life was imposed on me, my way of living was imposed on me, the restrictions of a different culture and society were imposed on me. Talk about a loss of freedom. But maybe it's because I chose to 'subject' myself to Uganda, that is what made me feel more free than I do in America. The fact that I forced myself to adapt, everyday, to a new environment gave me a sense of freedom that I've never quite had before. And the fact that it wasn't 'my' society or 'my' culture - I was viewed as a guest - until it came time to leave, and then not one of my Ugandan friends understood just why I had to go. It sounded silly to tell them that 'my time was up'. Isn't time what life is made of and it's never up; there is always more time.
One of my biggest impressions being back in America, is that being here can be just as lonely as being an outsider in a different culture. Ever since I stepped off the plane in JFK, I've done most things alone, and even when I'm around lots of people, I'm still just me, adapting again, but this time to my original way of life. No, the first few days weren't so bad. It's this week that is hitting me that I am gone from Uganda. I get to talk to Daniel, and feel that he is so lucky that he gets to see Agnes and Joseph and be the one to share a dinner with them. I'll call it jealousy for now. He gets to wake up at his home and carry on life as we have known it for the past 2 years, and I am jealous. I know there is something important in acknowledging when it is the right time to go. When things have become stagnant and a change is in the air and cannot be ignored. Change is always welcome in my world; but I'm a rather nostalgic person and memories are hard for me to leave behind.
I'm not even sure where to go with this blog entry...it's all very frustrating. It has nothing to do with not liking home or America. I suppose it has everything to do with missing a piece of my life that I was not prepared to give up yet. And that Uganda has come to mean everything to me. And the feeling of being caught in between 2 places, 2 desires, 2 ways of life, 2 me's. And not knowing what comes after all this...
So, until I figure myself out, I'll do as Mr. Harper suggests and fly, again - one time, out of this place to a new land.
Well, here's to home, where ever it may be.
But dislike isn't what's on my mind. I actually felt very neutral about being here, at first. It could be that it hadn't "hit" me yet, or that I just felt like I was visiting - whatever it is, it has left me feeling rather strange. Driving myself around almost gives me a sense of independence that I wasn't quite ready for. And driving a vehicle all alone after so many months of being crammed into one with 22 other people is a rather lonely experience. Not that I exactly miss mutatu rides or the rush of seeing my life flash before my eyes every 10 minutes, or the leering gaze of some man who wants a muzungu wife, or that annoying over-the-shoulder reader next to me who is reading my text messages - but it is some form of 'missing' that I feel. Most people would say that I was just 'used to it'. Yeah, I was used to it - and I loved it all.
Not gonna lie, there is a feeling of my freedom being lost (even if I've gained independence with a car), that I feel for some reason coming back to America. I'm not sure why, since my Ugandan life was imposed on me, my way of living was imposed on me, the restrictions of a different culture and society were imposed on me. Talk about a loss of freedom. But maybe it's because I chose to 'subject' myself to Uganda, that is what made me feel more free than I do in America. The fact that I forced myself to adapt, everyday, to a new environment gave me a sense of freedom that I've never quite had before. And the fact that it wasn't 'my' society or 'my' culture - I was viewed as a guest - until it came time to leave, and then not one of my Ugandan friends understood just why I had to go. It sounded silly to tell them that 'my time was up'. Isn't time what life is made of and it's never up; there is always more time.
One of my biggest impressions being back in America, is that being here can be just as lonely as being an outsider in a different culture. Ever since I stepped off the plane in JFK, I've done most things alone, and even when I'm around lots of people, I'm still just me, adapting again, but this time to my original way of life. No, the first few days weren't so bad. It's this week that is hitting me that I am gone from Uganda. I get to talk to Daniel, and feel that he is so lucky that he gets to see Agnes and Joseph and be the one to share a dinner with them. I'll call it jealousy for now. He gets to wake up at his home and carry on life as we have known it for the past 2 years, and I am jealous. I know there is something important in acknowledging when it is the right time to go. When things have become stagnant and a change is in the air and cannot be ignored. Change is always welcome in my world; but I'm a rather nostalgic person and memories are hard for me to leave behind.
I'm not even sure where to go with this blog entry...it's all very frustrating. It has nothing to do with not liking home or America. I suppose it has everything to do with missing a piece of my life that I was not prepared to give up yet. And that Uganda has come to mean everything to me. And the feeling of being caught in between 2 places, 2 desires, 2 ways of life, 2 me's. And not knowing what comes after all this...
So, until I figure myself out, I'll do as Mr. Harper suggests and fly, again - one time, out of this place to a new land.
Well, here's to home, where ever it may be.
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