Lights from Salem

The Lost Weekend

2012-02-08T08:28:00.001-08:00

Dear Readers,

A couple of weekends ago I was out apartment hunting. I met with another English teacher who was interested in me taking over the lease to her flat which she was moving out of, and then afterwards I went to another part of town to see another available flat for rent.

When this was accomplished, I set out to meet a friend for drinks. Since I have the spatial intelligence of a dead tree I got myself promptly lost, but eventually found where I needed to be. My friend and I had a few beers and chatted and then I had to head home since it was getting late and I wanted to arrive before the more frequent “day” busses stopped.

Quite tired, I looked forward to sleeping in and then watching some episodes of “Six Feet Under” and doing some chores the next day. However, when I arrived at my flat, I realized that I had left my keys inside, which is a rarity for me since I have long-since gotten into the habit of double checking myself for my keys. This day, though, was an exception, and I found myself quite keyless at midnight. To make things even more interesting, my flatmate had just moved out that day, and my landlord was in another part of the country. I checked with the building super to get the spare set, but after checking the box of spare keys he told me the room had no spare set.

I briefly considered going some place to look up lock picking on the internet and learn enough to crack my way into my room. I quickly decided though that the most likely result would be that I’d break something off in the lock and thus be cast into yet another realm of screwed. So, frustrated and feeling rather foolish, I started calling friends who might still be up. Not surprisingly almost no one was. But luck was with me. I managed to get a hold of a friend who was asleep but had left her phone on. I briefly told her the situation and asked if I could sleep on her couch to which she agreed.

I made it to her place in a taxi since by now the metros had stopped, and she let me in. She then told me the same thing had once happened to her, and since she had no place to go, she resigned herself to just spending the night riding the night trams around town.

Saturday, late the next morning, I met some friends from my TEFL course and we got some lunch and several beers in a pub. I had to duck out early to go look at another flat I was interested in renting, but afterwards reunited with my friends back at the pub and finished most of day with them, where we explained why “Alien” was a good movie to the impoverished naysayer with us.

Later that night I met with another group of friends, one Czech and two American, at a bar called The Oak to listen to a band that a friend of theirs played in. One of the Americans was the woman who wanted me to take up the lease which I decided I couldn’t afford, but she said that I could spend the night in her room since she had moved out and my landlord wouldn’t be back till Sunday. She gave me the keys and we spend the rest of time talking till the wee hours of the morning. It ended up being a rather confusing night for me, because one of my American friends consistently gave me clothing and woman advice, but then she would go on to say that I shouldn’t listen to her because mostly she wouldn’t know what she was talking about. But that didn’t stop her from giving advice.

Sunday at noon I met up with her at an expat pancake house. I worked on a fairly big meal while she half-heartedly nursed a glass of hot water with a mint leaf in it while acting like she was made out of thin pieces of glass. She repeated several times that most of the advice she had given me was probably nonsense. I didn’t really have anything I could respond with, but despite her post-intoxication from the night before, she still had enough reserves to giggle and try to school me in the arts of sarcasm, mostly by ceaselessly being sarcastic at me.

At five that evening my landlord finally came to town and I was able to come home. Lesson planning was shot, but at least I was able to put one some desperately wanted fresh clothes after soaking in the bathtub and drinking some tea to warm me up.

And as quietly as it began, thus ends the tale of Tristan’s Topsy-Turvy Weekend.

Tristan

What New Adventures Do You Hold?

2012-01-02T14:09:00.001-08:00

Dear Readers,

Today I woke up feeling out of sorts and unsure why, and in these moods I tend to write best, so that, combined with me meaning to write anyways, it was a perfect storm of conditions.

A new year is upon us and I wonder, like many people probably do, what this next year will hold. The Christmas season is one I like, but within me I feel a feeling of loneliness too. Most of the time it's fine, but there have been episodes of heartbreak, weather-related depression and cabin-fever, and of course loneliness due to being away from home so often during this time of year. Mexico, Germany, Peru, and now the Czech Republic.

I can't say how long I'll want to travel and work around. I would like to do it for a while longer, a few years, but I don't know really. Some people do this and then decide they need to get a normal job. But after hearing that I wondered that a "normal job" is. I felt a little confused for this person, and wondered if that's where they felt they needed to direct their life, to whatever a normal job is. Is the criteria 9-5 with benefits and a salary? There is nothing wrong with any of those things, but I also don't think people need to take a job like that simply because they feel it's what you have to do to live life.

Who knows. I haven't even figured out what I want to do yet. Perhaps I'll go into a job like that next. I don't know how long I would stay. A year? Ten years? How long to people stay in a position before they move on anyways?

I wondered recently though when traveling stops becoming an adventure and becomes an existence of a lost soul. I think some expats are simply drifters, not ever finding their place in the world. This is different from someone who wanders around like a bee, seeking experiences and knowledge everywhere, but the distinguishment can be hard to see from the outside. By staying in once place, a person can easily lose track of what they want to do and become stuck in a rut. But by traveling around a person can just be a drifter, not really figuring things out either. If any of that is to be avoided, I think the individual must simply know themselves and have the courage to understand to their own inner notions and compass. And as was pointed out to me: everyone is at a different place, so comparing with others' paths is dangerous and probably misleading, as clichéd as that might sound.

So of course I also wonder what more I will learn this year. Czech is a given. I've already started learning it here, and it feels good to get back in the saddle of learning another language.

I'm also chronically single and it bothers me a lot. In all my life I've hardly ever been in anything that could be called a stable relationship because they have often been short-lived since it was while studying or living abroad right before I was getting ready to leave. Everything else has simply been a confused "Is this dating, or what?" grey area. It bothers me to not really know what a relationship feels like. I'm glad I'm not married yet, and I'm glad that I've had this single time to go and see the world. Hopefully I'll find someone who shares that interest and would like to continue traveling too. I would go so far as to say that's almost a requirement (although my list has become ever shorter over the years). But when I see people together or talking about relationships, for the most part I just feel an emptiness and wonder what the devil I'm doing wrong.

Maybe this blog is an indicator. Maybe I'm too open. Lord knows I've tried to learn how to be more discreet and I think I have learned, but at heart I'm an open person in general and I don't know if that's something that can really be changed about me. I'm sure it can, but then I wonder, do I want to change that? Is it not better to have people who are honest and open? Many people have told me that they like that I'm open, and I sense that's how I'm supposed to be. Naturally this should be balanced by being open with not everyone one comes across.

But who knows what developments there will be this year.

Now, as I did last year, I'm going to post all the books I read in the past 12 months. Only a measly 28 books this year. The (*) denotes books that were the ones I enjoyed the most. (CZ) means they were read here in the Czech Republic, but NOT in Czech. Siddhartha was read in English while simultaneously listening to it in German.

1. Alchemist, The by Paulo Cohelo (November 2011) (CZ)*

2. American Gods by Neil Gaiman (September 2011)

3. Awakening to the Natural State by John Wheeler (2011)*
This was perhaps the best contemporary book on meditation and non-duality that I've ever read.

4. Awareness: The Perils and Opportunities of Reality by Anthony de Mello (2011)*

5. Culture Shock: Czech Republic by Tim Nollen (December 2011) (CZ)

6. Danny: Champion of the World by Roald Dahl (August 2011)

7. Dead Zone, The by Stephen King (February 2011)

8. Executive Orders, by Tom Clancy (2011)

9. Freedom by Jonathan Franzen (Aug 2011)
One of my best friends, recommended this book to me. I found it to be completely forgettable though, evidenced by the fact I forgot all about it until I copied this list onto here.

10. The Heart of Awareness, The: A Translation of the Ashtavakra Gita by Thomas Byrom (2011)*
A beautiful poem full of wisdom about Advaita (non-duality). A short little read.

11. It by Stephen King (November 2011) (CZ)

12. Long Walk, The by Stephen King (2011)

13. Matilda by Roald Dahl (August 2011)

14. Origin of Satan, The by Elaine Pagels (2011)
Unfortunately, much drier than I had hoped. I want to read more about that topic, though.

15. Pirate Latitudes by Michael Crichton, 2011)

16. The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary by Simon Winchester (2011)*

17. Rage by Stephen King (2011)*

18. Raptor by Gary Jennings (2011)*

19. Roadwork by Stephen King (2011)

20. Skeleton Crew by Stephen King (2011)

21. Siddhartha by Herman Hesse (2011)

22. Tommyknockers, The by Stephen King (October 2011) (CZ)

23. Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart, by Gordon Livingston (2011)*

24. True Meditation by Adyashanti (2011)*

25. What Every BODY Is Saying by Joe Navarro (November 2011) (CZ)*
Very awesome book about body language. I need to re-read it now.

26. Witches, The by Roald Dahl (August 2011)

27. Without Remorse by Tom Clancy (2011)

28. You Can Read Anyone by David Lieberman (2011)
Similar to no. 25, but not nearly as interesting.

And that's it! I'd love to read any comments or questions you may have. I hope this coming year is a good one!

Tristan

Loaded Quietness

2011-12-19T11:08:00.000-08:00

Me dear readers,

This update has taken me longer than I wanted to get to. I had various topics that I considered writing about, but ultimately tonight I write simply because the spirit moves me. I tend to write best during contemplative periods of quietness. They say that stillness comes after the storm, but in my experience stillness can be found in every moment. For me it's most obvious during and afterwards, and this weekend, as well as today (Monday) have left me feeling a bit rocked and disoriented. Nothing serious, but certainly aware of discomfort within me.

For starters, I've been hired, thankfully. I started three weeks ago and am happy to see how much I am enjoying teaching so far. I've never really had stage fright to speak of, but the idea of being a manager of people has given me pause on several occasions. Yet like most things, once you start doing them, they tend not to be half as frightening you made them out to be. My students range from (but not exclusively) bankers, to lawyers, to physics professors and PhD. students. Planning lessons and running around reminds me of the thrill of my college days where I had a ton of work to prepare for various classes all over campus. You can get an adrenaline rush from it.

Teaching is certainly never a job one will become wealthy from, yet I've given up dreams of wealth long ago. Not to say I wish to be poor and live hand to mouth with no possibility of saving anything, but money has never been my main priority. Earlier today I was discussing with someone the question "What do you want to do?" in the context of life. I can't speak for everyone, but it seems that most people answer, or are expecting, something career-related. My answer is difficult to articulate, but it goes more along the ways of "travel around the world, learn its languages and about its cultures, and meet its peoples." This doesn't mean be hippy backpacking around (although that is fine for some...I've never been a huge backpacker myself).

Coming from the Peace Corps and then into teaching abroad, I imagine I'll be learning the value of the little things in life and the value of budgeting money in a particularly acute way. I know my mom doesn't mean to sound condescending, but when I talk to her on the phone about finances (which is about the last thing I enjoy speaking about) she reminds me "You chose this lifestyle." She means well, but you don't hear someone say that unless they are disapproving. Like if someone is in jail, and you say "Well, you chose to break the law."

But I am glad to be here, and I am glad to be on my own, and finding my own path in life. I cannot think of someplace I'd rather be right now in the large scheme of things, but I also believe that things happen when they are ready to happen. I don't think there is a master plan in the universe, but there is an intelligence that leads certain flowers to bloom when the moon is out and leads the trees to sleep when winter comes, and leads food to be digested at a certain rate. Who are we to think that we can control the bigger unknowns ultimately? Like how a tree starts as a sapling and then blossoms to give fruit or seeds, life is always growing too and blossoming in its own way in people. The only thing we really need to do is be aware of that intelligence inside of us and around us.

I think when we lose track of that stillness, we really do lose ourselves in a sense.

Anyway, Christmas break is coming up and I won't have much work, so I plan on devoting that to studying Czech, which I'm starting to understand bits and pieces of during conversations, but still and a very beginning pupil of.

In case I don't write again before, I wish everyone a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a Happy New Year!

Tristan Foy

The Personal Legend

2011-11-12T11:32:00.000-08:00

So. At the request of a friend here I borrowed and read her copy of "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho.

The whole books is an allegory for staying true to one's self, true to one's dreams, told in a way where the protagonist, a young boy who leaves the seminary because of his desire to travel, is following a literal dream telling him there is treasure buried somewhere near the pyramids.

I recommend this book, as it is charming and both simple and profound simultaneously.

It can be, however, terrifying in parts. At time while I was reading it, I asked myself, "Am I following my dream? Am I trying to achieve my Personal Legend? Am I brave enough to see it through?"

I think I am. I think this is part of it. I cannot put my dream really into words, and perhaps this is true for everyone. But when people ask me, if I could do anything in the world, what would it be, personally or professionally, I am at a loss for words. I can usually put together some kind of answer (although when it comes to professionally, I'm not sure I can because I don't think in terms of jobs or careers, but in terms of living), but I wonder then, does this mean dreams are beyond words, or I've simply lost sight of them in the jungle of the world?

For me it's not as simple as learning languages or traveling, although that is part of it. Learning as much as I can about as many topics as I can, that's closer, but still rather clunky.

But what I want most in life is peace, but I feel precious little of that. And I don't know why. It makes me wonder if I'm not on the right path in life, or if there's something wrong with me, but I rarely am at peace. I've taken to meditating and doing yoga and that is helping, but often in my life I feel surrounded by threats in the form of and anxiety and always "what if's?"

And then on a practical level following my dream of coming back to Europe is proving difficult as I still have no job as an English teacher. I haven't given up and I'm still optimistic, but sometimes I wonder whether this is some kind of test to see how badly we want something, or are we being told that we are on the wrong path?

I don't feel I'm on the wrong path, but when people say they don't do something unless they feel 100% I am a little jealous of them. I've never felt 100% about hardly anything; instead I tend to take all the information I can and go with what I have. Every time I've left the country it's been like jumping into a dark void of the unknown. I've always had reservations but I also know I can't let those hold me back.

But there's the little voice in my head saying I'll be living a life of mediocrity if I don't find something certain, and one thing I certainly DON'T want 100% is a mediocre life. I don't want to survive, I want to live! Life is to be enjoyed and celebrated, and like the quote goes (more or less) when the people see the body at the funeral and instead of seeing a tidy and pristine body the see one that causes them to say "Holy shit! This person grabbed life by the horns!"

What well-loved pair of shoes or well-loved book looks like they are in mint condition? Very few (although I do love books that don't look like they dragged all the way to hell).

Regardless, if I'm on the path of what I feel is right, and I sense that I am, I don't know why I keep having obstacles put in my way. Sometimes I don't want experience; sometimes I just want things to go right!

Anyways, I seem to have run out of writing steam before I get repetitive, so I'll close up here.

May you have a wonderful day/night, wherever you are.

Tristan Foy

Prague: Settling In (Not Too Introspective Today)

2011-10-30T13:56:00.000-07:00

A month and a half ago I moved to Prague, the capitol of the Czech Republic. My intentions were to come here, take a course on teaching English as a foreign language (TEFL) and then find gainful employment.

TEFL Certified: Check.
Gainful employment: No check yet.

As a result, anxiety has started to mount a bit. However, there are plenty of language schools to apply to, and I've already had an interview at one, so there is no need to panic yet.

In the meantime, I also had my hands full with finding a flat. Now, by a strange twist of happenstance, I've never had to find my own flat before and neurotic mind turned it into an ulcer-inducing nightmare before I realized that it's actually pretty straightforward.

I looked at four places, and ended up with a very nice apartment, with a nice view of the city (it's in a high-rise) but it's a bit of a jaunt into town. I'll be keeping my eyes open for something closer but due to where I was living while I had my month-long course I am used to commuting.

Regrettably I have not yet studied much Czech. I wanted to get settled before I start making that time-investment, but I should in fact get rolling on that because often I'll be out in public at a store or something and feel like a horse's ass because I can't understand anything except "yes" and "no" and a few other words.

A recent example of where this would have been nice was when I was at Ikea getting some utensils for my new flat. The store is designed so that you can enter it only one way and then you have to go all the way through it before you can exit. There are no aisles to roam about or anything like most stores. If you want to use the restroom, you have to go through the store and then go all the way through it again to get back to where you were.

As it turned out a couple of employees thought I'd trying to make off with a bag of loot and I couldn't explain that I'd simply made my purchases in a decidedly legal fashion, had some Swedish meatballs in their restaurant near the entrance of the store, and then walked through their deadly fire-trap of a store just to get to the exit.

But not all of Prague is a pain to navigate. For a person like myself who has almost never needed to use public transportation, the metro and bus lines are thankfully quite clear. And despite being the largest city in the country, it does not have an urban feel to it at all. There are no skyscrapers and the city is not overly noisy.

It is very touristy and I'm wondering how I'll be able to make any Czech friends. I'm sure there's a way, but contacts are hard to find so far when all of your associations are with fellow expats. Hopefully learning the language will help open their world up to me; on the other hand, having contact with them will obviously serve as a wonderful way to learn more about their culture and language.

I have not been to any other place outside of the city with the exception of a very quick trip to the Czech Embassy in Berlin to get my visa worked out. I'm happy to get my German out and use it; it's gotten quite rusty over the years but it's still there and still serves me well. I even had a chance to use Esperanto today while briefly meeting up with an acquaintance of mine I met while in Germany four years ago.

So. Here I'll leave you. Let's see if I can't get back into a regular writing mode such as when I was last on this side of the pond, and also in my more common, theme of the week style of blogging rather than these easy but dry laundry list entries.

Till next time!

The Next Step: Prague

2011-09-03T21:24:00.000-07:00

Hello all,

I could say how there isn't a whole lot to write about in Ogallala, and for the most part there isn't, but that's not always what blogging is about. However, for the most part there just hasn't been much to say. I try to write when I can think of something worthwhile worth re-telling, but otherwise I tend to refrain.

But in this lapse, there certainly are developments to recount. In my last entry, I wrote about the importance of taking chances in life, and as a matter of fact I was writing that mostly just to pump myself up to apply for a job. A job teaching English more specifically. With an organization in Prague, to not point too fine a point on it, actually.

And it turns out I've been accepted into the program. So, Europe, here I come!

By mid-September I will be starting a new adventure in a new land, learning a new language, with a new job. I can't tell you that much about it, except that I'll first be getting certified in a month long course, and afterwards, if I pass the class, they organization (TEFL InPrague) will help me find a job. I'll be working with intermediate-level students, which suits me fine. I also am not sure how long I'll be teaching, but I figure I'll give it at least a year and then we'll see.

I've been very reluctant about applying because I don't know how much I'd like teaching, but I decided that I can't get anywhere by just thinking about it and taking no actions. So there it goes.

Many of my friends already know about this, but not everyone, and a few in Europe don't know yet (Orsi!). But in brief, that's what will be happening.

It's been a rather stressful decision. I attended a Peace Corps career conference in DC which stressed government jobs. And there is quite a bit to be said for them but I didn't feel pulled in that direction and at the same time I felt guilty I wasn't pulled in that direction. I also met a lot of very cool people there, other RPCVs like, to just name a few, Anne, Juliana, Sarah, and NM who has an awesome laugh. And I felt conflicted that I should rather spend time in that part of the country where many of them seemed to be going for the time being; the young and the energetic.

DC was a city I felt uncomfortable in though. I was only there for 4 days or so and I liked it, but I got the impression it was blasting on all cylinders (which isn't a terribly profound impression I realize) and was, well, very professional, whereas I tend to angle towards the more casual. I was surprised how much I liked wearing a suit that I needed for an evening out there, and how much I liked dressing up in general. But the city felt a little stifling and neurotic for me. I can see myself living and working there, but I don't think it'd be my first choice.

That wasn't the reason why I decided to apply for the TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) job though. It was simply out of the thirst for more adventure and life abroad. It simply boiled down to that. I felt like the little compass in me was spinning out yonder, pointing its magnetic wheel at the world beyond the USA, once more.

And sometimes you simply have to follow that compass.

Getting some paperwork for my Visa has been harrowing. I sent in a copy of my diploma to the Secretary of State - Notary Division in Lincoln, NE nearly a month ago. Four times they told me how to get my diploma notarized and apostilled (having a photocopy made official I think is what that means). Four times they rejected it after I follow their directions. Finally I drove down to Lincoln (a six-seven hour drive round-trip) and presented them with the signed form they mailed to me. The form had both my signature and that of a representative person from my university. The lady in the Notary Division looked at the form, wondered why my signature was on it at all, told me there was a better form I should use but no matter, and then stamped it. The whole time spent in in the office was less than five minutes. It took a month to get there.

Maybe choosing to work abroad was a better decision than I initially thought.

I also finally got a camera. Long-time readers might remember my camera, computer and e-reader were stolen in Peru. After over a year of being cameraless, I decided to take the plunge and by a DSLR, a type of camera with interchangeable lenses and allows me much much more control over pictures than I've ever had before. Finally after four years I can easily and manually focus on exactly what I want to focus on! Joy joy!

It's a much more advanced camera than any I've ever had, but it's also one that that I'll be able to use for years, and I'm sure I'll be able to learn a lot from it.

So that's where things are right now. I apologize for the delay if anyone has been waiting to hear an update, and perhaps I'll be moved to write more regularly, as I initially did when I was in a more fast-paced environment in Germany and in my last year in college.

I hope everyone is well.

Cheers,
Tristan Foy

Subtle Readjustments, and Being Brave

2011-06-21T21:53:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the delay in writing.

Last month on Father's Day, I learned that I am still adjusting to aspects of life in America. Not American culture exactly, but simply life here. On Father's Day, Mother's Day, and often on birthdays my family would buy a group card and everyone would sign it. While in Peace Corps Father's Day and Mother's Day were almost non-existent; indeed sometimes dates where non-existent, had I not have a computer and a calendar.

The morning of Father's Day I was in the kitchen with my mom and sister and one of them asked me if I had gotten a card for dad. I had forgotten to do so, or more accurately, since a parent usually got the card and all the kids signed it, it hadn't even crossed my mind. (We don't always by gifts on these days. My brother and I once bought an expensive box of chocolates for our mom one Mother's Day. Four of us had some but to dismay the dog found it and ate the remaining fifty-four pieces.)

My sister seemed a little annoyed that I hadn't gotten dad a card, and I told her simply that I've never needed to by a card. What's more I told her after Peace Corps where the holiday practically didn't exist at all, it was barely a thought in my mind. I meant no rudeness or harshness, but it was simply an aspect of American culture that had slipped my mind, especially since the holiday isn't a major one anyway. She told me that it was Father's Day and I just simply needed to think about these things.

This made me realize how in some ways I am still adjusting back to American culture even though I've been here since November. It also showed me how simple concepts were quite foreign to my sister and others around me, simply because there wasn't the same context. She's never really left her culture. This has never been an issue she or most people in my family have needed to face.

I don't blame them for this, simply because it's not their life situation. But it does make for a colorful one for me, both the traveling and the coming home.

Indeed, I feel less American and more like a citizen of the world. That may be a bit of a cliché, but I feel that national identity is valuable to a point, but not necessarily as a personal identity. It's not that I dislike America; on the contrary I've said before in my blog that I love this country and the privileges I have, and am thankful for those who make those rights possible. But in my life, I see it as important to act as a cultural bridge builder, not between nations but simply among people. The more I've traveled the more similar I see everyone to be. There are many cultural differences but at the heart of those cultures there are the people who make them up. People with feelings and dreams and concerns.

I guess this is one of the reasons I feel inclined to continue going abroad and learning languages and learning cultures. Even if it's scary. I feel wild at heart, and that I cannot keep limiting myself to what I think I want, but just go in the direction that feels truest, even if it looks harder. And going abroad is always a bit like that: taking a plunge into the unknown.

Everyone can relate to this though, even if you've never left your hometown. If a life does not have risks in it, then how has it been tested? It's easy to live in a safe zone, but how boring and, in the end, stressful.

Naturally I'm not saying we should bungee-jump into a volcanic crater for the danger element (I don't know if I'll ever bungee-jump, actually) but if we always just settle for complacency because it's easier, we might find ourselves later more stressed out simply because we didn't trust ourselves to follow our internal compass that tries to guide us through life.

We shouldn't do something because it's scary. We just need to know when to do things in spite or risk and fear.

Tristan Foy

Just an Update

2011-05-27T19:58:00.000-07:00

An update of my life. In my quest to continue finding work in new places, I've applied for two (so far) positions on a cruise line. One attracted me because it needed someone who could speak most of the languages I know (the only one it asked for that I can't yet speak was Dutch). The second was the position of librarian on the ship. I've worked in libraries before and helped found in in Peru, so I am certainly not a novice to them. However, I have yet to hear back from the line, but given the way things have gone with other application submissions, I have to realistically expect I probably won't hear from them.

The process has gotten me thinking again though about what I might want to study. I wonder if I would enjoy going back to school to learn librarian science. I like learning, and they have libraries all over the world. I started imagining myself being a librarian type who instead of is all bookish, but one who goes out and tries to do in-the-field research, like an Indiana Jones type librarian. That thought has brought a smile to my face many times.

At work I'm trying to learn how to drive a stick shift, a skill I've never needed till now. I've gotten a lot of it down but since I don't have much time to practice I still am not very confident at it. My co-worked chided as I pulled away from his house that I should try not to hit his neighbor's house adn that his garage door his new. He then made me feel super by saying: "It's amazing you can learn to speak for languages, but can't drive a stick." It's actually three languages (at the time of this writing).

Maybe it just wasn't my week: Lord knows today I lost my sunglasses and found them hanging from the front of my shirt, right where I left them, but that was after I locked myself out of my truck. At least I had the window rolled down. Thankfully though I have a much better attitude than I used to have. Mostly I find these things amusing, or if I don't, I find them amusing very soon afterwards.

In the meantime, my job has kept me very busy. I've worked two weeks or more, weekends and all with no days off. I'm not complaining about that; working in a yard store means being busy in the spring. But I'm certainly looking forward to Memorial Day where I'll finally get a two day weekend for the first time in over a month. Earlier this week I made sure to relax from that with a bubble bath, a tumbler of whiskey on the rocks, and a novel about a hermaphrodite Goth explorer in the ancient Roman empire.

I've been considering continuing doing some kind of volunteer work elsewhere, like what I did in the Peace Corps. I've even considered joining up again, but if I do that I'd rather do that years down the road, perhaps after I am married, for example. I'm also looking at working at resorts or parks or other places like that, both domestic or abroad. I've considered teaching English and might end up taking that route, though right now when I think about it it honestly doesn't feel right for me, so for the time being I'm not too occupied with that.

In any case, I'm seeing that I'm more of an experience seeker meaning that I want to see the adventure that is life. And I need to get focused and do something, because being with my parents is becoming a real challenge for me. This isn't where I want to spend the next half year or so of my life.

Anyways, I know this has kind of been a meandering blog, not my strongest entry, but I wanted to update with something and let everyone know how life is going.

Tristan Foy

End of an Era

2011-05-02T19:23:00.000-07:00

This evening I went to a dinner with my dad and, predictably, for part of the time the subject of the talk was Osama's death. Ten years of looking for the most wanted man in the world are over, and understandably, the remarks were gleeful. One man said the only thing that was a pity was that no one could take bin Laden's head and put it on a stick on the White House lawn, or at Ground Zero. Surely many would see poetic justice in that. Another said that if he had been there, he'd have considered shooting bin Laden in the kneecaps, then in the arms, and then in the testicles, before finishing him off.

When I first saw the news last evening, I also felt glad that an end of an "era," so to speak, was over. But when I stepped back and looked at it, I saw little to be joyful about.

I don't blame anyone who feels joy at Osama's death. We live in a world where it does feel good to get justice, but too often I think it is actually revenge disguised as justice. Revenge is to justice what lust is to love in that both are emotionally driven and risk hurting both parties.

Do people's actions outweigh their humanity? What does it say when we rejoice in the streets at a life lost? And are we celebrating the departure of that life, or of a finality to the doer's deeds? It is just the body and mind that dies, and what are those but conditioning?

This does not condone actions of evil of course, but is ever one bloodlust good while another is evil? Ideologies tell us that there is a right and a wrong, a good guy and an evil one, but where is the universe ever so black and white?

I don't consider bin Laden's death a murder. If I had been a soldier in that group, and in the course of the firefight if it fell to me to take him out, I probably would have done it, but there would be no joy in it. Only the feelings of performing a duty as a soldier to defend myself and my comrades. Killing bin Laden only doesn't undo what harm he's done already.

I am not an "ah shucks, just let him go" person. I know what it feels like to want to take a life. Once, a close friend of mine was sexually assaulted and had to get an abortion as a result. I know what it feels like to want revenge on a searing level, and even more, to do it at my own hands. Often, as it was in my case, those chances are not granted, perhaps for the better. But that is not my justice, only my wish for revenge against an ugliness.

I can't suggest what an appropriate justice is in such cases. But my point is, we often forget that it is a human being committing such heinous deeds, and that while the humans' actions are a manifestation of fear and hate, too often we forget that we live in a culture where fear and hate run course through like rabies through an infected brain. If we lust after and celebrate revenge of anyone's death, it is not a sign of a healthy society. This only breeds more madness.

I do not blame anyone who is celebrating the death of a criminal or a terrorist. I am not sorry bin Laden was killed. But I will not rejoice in a death.

In Honor of Patrick's Birthday!

2011-03-30T09:16:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

Patrick is one of my best friends. I’ve been meaning to write a blog entry devoted to him but so far have never found the time. But now, Patrick, your time has come.

Most of you already know a little about Patrick, either by knowing him personally or from my blogs. For those of you who don’t, Patrick was a fellow WatSan volunteer, the nearest volunteer to me in Peru. As a result we spent a lot of time talking about almost any topic, although Patrick had a few choice ones he kept coming back to. I’d like to tell you a little bit about this young man.

There is the mis-founded rumor that Patrick hates fun, but a short biography that rivals even those of Marco Polo or Sir Richard Burton shows that Patrick’s middle name is Fun. And adventure. And dashing daring-do. And prodigy. He has a lot of middle names.

Patrick was born 25 years ago today, but in those 25 years he has experienced enough life to encompass a whole set of encyclopedias. Indeed his life of adventure began when he ran off and joined the circus as sword swallower. While touring through Europe and Asia he found solace in getting in touch with first his Irish and then Chinese heritage. He parted ways with the traveling circus and became a pupil of the Chinese monk Lao Chung Tze. Through past-life regressions he discovered that he formerly inhabited the body of a butterfly, and still vividly dreams of it. Under the guidance of his teacher, Patrick eventually mastered Presence and found fulfillment as a guru and often taught about the precious power of Now.

As seasons passed in the homeland of his ancestors, Patrick thirsted for more adventure, and so he set out to find treasures lost throughout the ages. In this he proved successful, discovering the Ark of the Covenant in Egypt, Noah’s Ark on Mount Ararat in Turkey, and Arc de Triumph in Paris, France.

Having found all the various shapes that arcs could come in, Patrick set his mind to physical mastery, inspired by living with the Tarahumara Indians in Mexico. The linguistic dominance in Spanish achieved by Patrick has been hailed as “the most colloquial of all the Piura volunteers,” a high and rare praise indeed.

He trained to get by eating a strict diet of Cold Stone, Coke Zero and Chipotle while dominating fifty Iron Man competitions in fifty states in fifty days. Satisfied by his achievement of badassery, he devoted his life for the next few years to fighting crime. He became a wizard at solving crimes, solving the infamous crimes such as “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?” and “Where in the World Is Carmen San Diego?” He also infiltrated the crime world while disguised as a disfigured giggling clown, enabling FBI, CIA and Batman to jointly stop Russians from hijacking Air Force One. His code name, now declassified, was Sherlock “Bro”mes.

Having made his name known in the crime fighting world, Patrick then went on to study at Hogwarts, graduating the seven year program in a record two and finding the time to found a new Hogwarts house named for the rare and mystical floating animal, the Jellybird.

While singing in the Hogwarts choir, Patrick was discovered by talent scouts for his musical genius, rivaling even the Jonas Brothers. He was immediately recruited to write songs for the up and coming hit show “Glee,” and the “High School Musical” saga. Patrick was awarded Grammy for Record of the Year for his album “Close Your Eyes and Shine Like a Star” and for Single of the Year “Da Chillest Ting In Da Whole Wide World.” That same year Patrick’s prodigious and soulful musical work was honored with a Lifetime Achievement Award by the Academy Awards. It was also his encyclopedia-like familiarity with music and the Power of Now that enabled him to draft a peace treaty between the Jets and the Sharks, thus ending a violent feud on the West Side.

Patrick’s biggest peace-keeping challenge was yet to come, however, he befriended a little lost alien and had to devise a way for it to phone home before its home civilization misunderstood us to be holding the little squishy alien hostage and thus send ships to blow up our major cities. Patrick also volunteered to go as an ambassador of peace. He was transported through a stone ring known as a Stargate and had to communicate with the extraterrestrials in the universal language of breakdance, thus successfully being the first human to extend the olive branch across the stars.

In between extensively updating and supplementing the Encyclopedia Britannica, Oxford English Dictionary, and American Dictionary of Acronyms, Patrick found time to discover the Flying Dutchman, travel around the world in a mere 80 minutes (in a oil-free jetpack of his own design), and recreationally puts out forest fires.

Patrick has his own line of business casual clothes and gear for cold weather sites. The crown jewel of his clothing line is a wristwatch made from the robust skin of the lightning eel.

The art of the party was not invented by Patrick, but it was completely re-defined by him. It’s well known he went to Kramba Night Club with the teachers from his site one time, but one party with Patrick is the only one you’ll ever need.

In addition achieving the most profound levels of Zen, traveling to the edges of the known world and universe not just as a Peace Corps Volunteer, but as an example of the best of the human condition, inventing world-changing technology, and contributing to the collective art of humanity and speaking at TED conferences a record 14 times, Patrick is the only person so far to receive a Nobel Prize in each category:

Peace was for “Outstanding dedication to work in the last three months of service, despite being advised several times against such action.”

Literature: “For an outstanding and comprehensive body of literature regarding worm composting that has created a revolution in gardening techniques around the world in northern Peru.”

Physics: “For proposing and discovering extraordinary and ingenious methods to use fluids as it pertains to determining how long a body stays in one place.”

Chemistry: “For allowing flea killing poisons to be tested on himself, thus preventing the spread of plague.”

Economics: “For inventing a revolutionary system of exchange, where each deed is rewarded with an extemporaneous song commenting on the human condition through an economic vocabulary.”

Medicine: “For his study of lower-Andean cañazo usage and its effects on motor functions during social and economic functions in small communities.”

Patrick was recently awarded the Chuck Norris Award for actually breaking the laws of reality in sheer awesomeness. But it is indeed rather homage than an award, since it is a household fact that the character of Chuck Norris is based on Patrick himself.

A true life artist of our times, we wish you a happy birthday, dear Patrick, and many happy returns! We love you!

Life After Peace Corps

2011-03-28T20:34:00.001-07:00

When I arrive home from traveling abroad I notice that my life often seems disoriented and confused. Even though coming home from Peace Corps was my third foray into the foreign unknown, the confusion and angst show that this homecoming has been no exception.

I've come to know myself better than in these past two years and change (the cliché is that doing a stint in Peace Corps is like getting a PhD. in Yourself) but now I'm not so sure because if one knows one's self well, they should be less confused. Maybe what I'm dealing with is not confusion, but simply angst. As I said, I went out to Seattle to see another part of the world - this time a home-grown place, but new to me. While out there though I realized I would like to continue working abroad, so I came home to save money and continue looking. And then late last week I received a reply from a position for Americans in Germany, letting me know I had not been selected.

So now I am looking towards NGOs and similar positions. But it can be hard to remain optimistic. I know that I don't have many options and so if I find something I qualify for, I need to apply for it, just so I can finally start to become more financially independent. But I worry about getting lost in the grind, trading my dreams for the promises that many people make, mainly financial ones, but then burning out. I know life doesn't have to be like that, but I see it a lot in this country. It is a culture of progress and frankly, of materialism. By it self there is nothing wrong with owning things, but if one becomes aware of all the advertising that abounds, then it is easy to see how we are constantly told our lives aren't good enough because we don't have such and such. I think it's easy to get seduced or confused by all this, and then get lost, and I know very few people who don't seem lost somehow. And what I fear is compromising myself or beliefs for an easier path of just settling for any job. Hence the pressure to once again jump into the unknown.

What does this mean? To blindly head off towards Germany? I have friends over there but no real job prospects, which would put me in a similar situation as I was in Seattle, but the stakes would be higher because there is the added cost of travel and visa's, etc. Maybe I am being a coward in not going. And I ask myself, am I being responsible for looking for work here stateside to build up a financial base, or am I just putting off taking a risk, playing it safe and stunting my inner growth?

The values of simplicity that I learned in Peace Corps are hard to hold onto and easy to forget. Of course the people there worked hard and I'm not against hard work. They also had no real choice in their lot, where we live in a culture of many freedoms. But the people in the villages I visited seemed overall happier, or at least less negative. They did not live in a Utopia of any sort. But it's striking that there is a collective fear of failure and a more obvious collective negativism that permeates through our culture. I don't know what causes this, but I would suspect that basing happiness on external success is a large part of it. As a person who has struggled with self-confidence issues most of my life, I've given a lot of thought to the issue of growth. I've always been waiting for confidence to grow within me, and until it does, it's as if I cannot be more confident yet because I virtually don't have permission yet. Indeed, we are often told of confidence and pride and esteem that grow with in us, and when I look at people, I usually think "They must feel that growth within them that makes them act so comfortable in a given situation." But I know now that confidence does not grow. Egos can grow, and feelings and passions can grow, but anything that can change is not what one truly is. It is only a falling-away of the need for external validation that can reveal who we are, that constant energy that has always been there. It's similar to sunlight in that it is always there, sometimes behind clouds or on the other side of the world, but always there, felt even in the smallest degree. It doesn't grow because that is not it's nature. Confidence then is a byproduct of this. You don't find it by testing yourself outwardly, you find it by looking inwards. Not intellectually, but with your heart. Outward tests can only show you what you already have within you. It's not something you can earn, like money. It's simply what you have to awaken to.

That's why I think we live see so much negativity and fear. The external word promises validation, but external things change, like the weather, like fads, like feelings. There is a presence that doesn't change that we are part of. It's easily obscured, but always there.

Still Looking

2011-03-05T19:08:00.000-08:00

Hello all,

It is high-time for an update. I've been meaning to write for a while, so I finally sat myself down to do it.

In my last post I was in Seattle looking for a job. I'd never been to the west coast, much less Seattle or Washington, so I thought I'd give it a shot.

Seattle is a beautiful city and I thought the people were nice. I measure that by if they wave at back when you wave at them, or if they actually act a bit conversational when you cross paths. I even met the mom of a PCV in Mongolia. I gave my email to her, but I don't know if I'll ever hear from the PCV or not. Of course, I don't know what the internet situation is in her daughter's part of the country.

Seeing Dylon was also a pleasure. I was afraid maybe we'd have changed so much we wouldn't have much in common, but it wasn't the case at all. That is to say change is inevitable, but Dylon and I still had plenty of common ground and common personality to get along like gangbusters.

I was also afraid that the weather would ruin me. Fortunately that was not the case. Seattle isn't as dreadful as people make it sound, rain-wise. It is indeed wet, but not a constant rain, and the sky, while often cloudy, is not a monotonous grey hue. That said, I still prefer more sun than what they get there, but overall I didn't find the weather to be a huge obstacle.

Looking for work is a bit of a nightmare though. First off, as lame as this sounds, I don't really know how to go and look for work. The main tool that is at my disposal is the internet, and using that to find a job is like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. There are plenty of jobs out there, but most of them I don't qualify for because a lack of five years experience in this, or an advanced degree in that, or knowledge of computers/website design or so forth. In the jobs that I applied for I never heard a single reply. I think that is something that could be improved. I'm sure there are dozens to hundreds of applicants for some of them, but it doesn't take a long time to format a stock email response saying "Dear ___, we appreciated you interest but we regret to inform you the position has been filled. Sincerely, M----" so that the applicant can have an idea where he/she stands in that prospect. I don't mean that to sound bitter, but that seems to me like it's a simple courtesy, especially since most/all jobs searched for online request your information via email.

It was in speaking with an acquaintance of mine though that I started to realize that in all the jobs I was seeking, something international was the common theme, and that perhaps I should continue to seek work internationally then. When I decided on that I came home to save money. So here I am back in Nebraska for the time being.

Job prospects:
I am seeking work in Europe, preferably Germany. Since it's early on in the game, I don't want to write too much about it, but I'm optimistic with a place I've found. Nevertheless, I have no idea how many people they take on in this position.

If I don't get that, I've thought about going to Berlin anyways. I have a friend who lives there and has offered to put me up while I look for work. My only issue with that at this time is that I'd be back at square one again. I really don't know how to test the waters over there and see what the job prospects are.

I've also thought about seeking work with an NGO of some kind. I haven't yet investigated what kind of work is available through them, but lately I've been getting curious about maybe working with refugees from other countries. I spoke with a contact about that kind of work and found that it sounded very interesting to me. There are no refugee organizations around where I live, so I can't try it out domestically, but even if I move to another city again before going abroad, I could look into this possibility. Currently I've been starting to get interested in Africa, which is interesting for me because beforehand I was interested mostly in Europe or South America. It's fascinating how interests evolve.

Teaching English. This would be a good skill to have. I don't know what kind of teacher I'd be, but I'd be willing to take a class in learning some teaching skills to better gauge if this is something I'd be interested in.

Other ideas: Please send suggestions.

I spoke to a professor about the possibility of graduate school but after talking to her became convinced that now is not the time for me to think about it. I simply am not interested in anything specific enough to devote that kind of time, energy, and money towards. My current interests are world religion/philosophy, but at this point, I'm more curious in pursuing that from an armchair scholar's perspective. There is a true pleasure in sinking into a chair and reading a book about the origin of Satan and not have to worry about being responsible for writing a dissertation about it. Perhaps academic life is not the career path for me.

So I'll keep writing as things develop, but that is where I stand for now.

Peace to my fellow RPCV family!

In Seattle

2011-01-30T21:27:00.000-08:00

Hello again,

Almost a week ago I flew out to Seattle to see if I would enjoy living out here and find a job to support myself. I am staying with my friend Dylon, whom I met in during studying in Germany back when this blog started, and his girlfriend in their apartment in a small town just outside of Seattle itself.

So far I have a good impression of the place, although I regret having flown instead of driven, as it's difficult not having a car here. However, that's not all a bad thing since it will force me to get used to the public transportation, which is one of the things I was looking for in a city.

Yesterday we all went to have a look around Seattle for the afternoon. We mainly stopped at little shops, but at nearly every bookstore I visited I inquired to see if they could use another worker. They all said no, but I wasn't expecting any yeses on the first day anyway, and besides it would probably be a part time job anyways. I also hope to stop at some other stores, such as Borders or Barnes and Noble, although I won't be limiting my search to just bookshops, of course.

A search is frustrating though because I feel I am at square one with no guidance. I recently found out that my university offers a class for students on how to search for a job. That's a class I wish I had had available to me when I was studying. As it is I feel rather clueless and like I'm at square one. When looking through job sites online it feels like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. So many jobs, but many of them I don't qualify for due to lack of certain skills or experience, or they don't pay well enough because they are just part time temp positions which would be nice supplements but not good enough on their own. Anyone, but especially RPCVs, what resources are you using? Just the RPCV website?

Also out here I feel like a fish out of water. Naturally I expected this transitional period to occur due to the fact I've never been out here in this part of the country before. But it is lonely. I look forward to getting out more on my own and meeting people (hence using the transit system). Despite having lived in bus-filled Germany, and combi-filled Peru, ideas of using bus lines and similar means of transport leave me reeling a bit.

Weather-wise it is yet to be seen how I'll react. Clouds and rain have usually been challenging for me, but how bad it gets depends. In Nebraska the weather was never a huge issue. I even looked forward to cloudy fall days and thunderstorms. In Germany the clouds and rain were a bit of a letdown but never a force that completely dropped me, and Germany's climate was indeed quite wet. In Peru I think it was more the isolation and difficulty of feeling from mud clean that was bothersome rather than the rain. In other words, my relationship with the weather is a back and forth deal.

So why do I want to look at Seattle? Because I've never been out here, I hear that it's gorgeous, and I'm curious about the culture. I've made no guarantee that I'll end up here, but I want to take a gander at the surroundings, see what kind of vibes I get, and see if I like it, simply put.

I will say though that I feel lonely. I would like to be around other Peace Corps volunteers from my group, and I get the feeling that a lot of them are near each other. To the people in my group who read this, is that true or am I imagining things? It seems like many of them are ending up in Boston, DC, or New York (DC is another place I'm going to potentially look at). I would like to stay in touch with my friends I made in the past two years if possible, and want to know if other volunteers will be seeing much of each other or not. I don't want to lose those connections and relationships.

Health-wise I'm getting back into running in the States. It's not fun to run in the cold, but another advantage to being out here is that it is usually warm enough to run. I'm trying to eat healthier, as I've put on some weight since getting home, and while frankly I probably needed to put on a little weight, I don't want to go down that slippery slope. I've also given up drinking soda. I still suck at this frankly, but the truth is I feel like crap when I drink it. I just feel unhealthy and depressed even. I'm addicted to the sugar I guess...I don't think it's caffeine because I can drink caffeine-free pop and still feel the same crumminess. Do I give it up completely? I'm trying to (although today I had a root beer :-S ). I realized that it's too hard for me to cut back on it, so it's either drink it or don't drink it at all. Whether or not I cut it 100% out of my life I don't know. Right now I'm trying to just quit drinking it with as few exceptions as possible.

Anyway, that's my story for now. I'll write again when I have a little to say about my trip out here.

Peace!
T

The Quest for the Mystery Job

2011-01-10T19:17:00.000-08:00

Dear Readers,

I wanted to write an update about being how things have been at home since I've gotten back from Peru.

I spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with my family and then for New Years I drove to Omaha and Lincoln to see some old friends and a cousin whom I hadn't seen for over two years, due to my time out of the country. It was seeing my friends that brought about more culture shock. Staying with my family didn't provoke much since family tends to stay static in many cases; my room is the same, my dog is the same, my parents are how I left them pretty much. But in my own generation, I see the differences more readily. Many of the people I visited were either engaged or married already. One of the had an 18 month old daughter.

It also felt strange to walk around on my alma mater's campus. It had been home to me for nearly four years, yet what little I saw when I went to see what professors and staff were on campus. All said though, despite feeling like I'd walked back into a time warp, it was nice to my friends from my pre-Peace Corps life.

Back home I continue the Quest for the Mystery Job. This is a challenging quest, and I feel like I'm in a forest and have to survive by gathering up sticks to make a wee fire just so I don't freeze to to weakness and be eaten by wolves.

As the case is, though, I fear I might be eaten by wolves at home, too. My parents and I are starting to clash a little bit. Seems this house is just too small for us, and I think it's made even smaller by the fact that I'm not sure what I want to do for a job. For me it seems to be a case of pick a place and go, like that kid in the movie "The Last King of Scotland" or randomly picks out Uganda (I think) to go to. I chose Seattle. Not as randomly as that kid in the movie did, and I don't plan on having an affair with the psychotic dictator's wife while visiting, though, so it's not exactly the same thing. I'll be visiting a friend and frantically trying to find gainful employment for an undetermined amount of time. What kind of work, say you? I don't know! :-( I feel - not panicky, but certainly uncertain about how to go about this process. But I have to get out there and see. That's the most important thing. I need field experience. It's an adventure. A scary one. Rather even scarier than Peace Corps because I had more of a safety net under me in the form of Peace Corps staff and other volunteers, not to mention training and a host family.

So anyways, to Seattle I go, to see what I can see. I don't know if I'll stay or if I'll even like it, but I want to see something new. I've been in small towns for most of my life; I'd like to see how city living goes.

Here's a job idea: Be an Alaskan bush pilot. Could I hack it? I'm not sure. But it looks like an incredibly exciting job. I've considered working on a deep-sea fishing boat, but decided that was just a flight of fancy. Being a pilot though I think I would enjoy. Learning to fly is one of the things on my bucket list. I think I'll do some research on bush flying and see what kind of things it entails. I have no idea if I'd like it or not.

On an unrelated note, I'm now learning Norwegian. My French and Esperanto are still intermediate, but mostly just need practice, so I can afford to start to study another language again. And as a matter of fact, I've studied Norwegian before, so it's mainly a review for the time being.

Some other observations:

American pop culture sucks harder than when I left. Sorry guys, but it does. It feels like there are only about eight popular songs on the radio right now, but they are all lousy and get played on endlessly repeating cycles. On the other hand, I'm glad to be back up to speed where I can see the movies I want. "True Grit" and "The King's Speech" were both amazing.

And one other note. I'm considering starting a new blog. I'm not sure I will, but now that I'm looking for a job, I am concerned that I can't be as open about myself as I normally am when I write. Is this a reasonable concern? In this new blog I'd write anonymously, so I'm not sure how I'd get the word out to my readers. I mostly am just concerned about prospective employers reading finding something (I don't know what) that would hurt my chances at getting a job.

That's all for now, folks!

Figuring out the next phase

2010-12-17T22:15:00.000-08:00

Dear Readers,

I've been back not quite a month yet, but almost. Many people have asked me how it feels to be back but the answer really is, It feels like I never left the States to begin with. I have been taking advantages of hot running water and am certainly relaxing, but a stress weighs on my mind and it's how I'm going to find work. I'm trying not to stress about this so I won't go into great details and build it all up in my head again.

But in short I'm not exactly sure what I want to do. I know that I would like to return to Germany to live, and a friend of mine has even invited me to stay with her and her boyfriend in Berlin while I find a place to stay and work. But part of me feels I need more time in the States before I make a move like that. I feel that I need to understand a little better what I am looking for and that I shouldn't make a decision like that under pressure, which I have been under regarding this topic.

I know that I'll want to be moving away even for the short term though. I'm interested in looking at the coasts, DC or California, I'm not picky. I just would like to have a job prospect or two in a place beforehand; I don't think moving and then looking is something I want to do.

Other than that, there isn't much to write about. I've been continuing on my French and doing household work for my parents since I'm at home and am able to give them a helping hand. A few times I've driven out to the lake and beyond, but sadly I am not able to take pictures like I usually do.

One thing I'm pleased to see is that I have no need for TV. I was tired of it before, but now I'm even more tired of it. I may not have a lot of money, but I'm glad to see that I'll be already saving some buy not worrying about getting cable or satellite.

I'll try to write more in my next post. Now that I have internet more often I'll try to get back into regular posting. I'm sorry this is short if you were wanting a longer post, but it's late and I didn't want to put a bunch of unhappy filler in about how stressed I've been looking for work.

Till next time,
Tristan

Finishing PC, Ecuador, Coming Home and Complete Reading List during Service

2010-11-27T23:09:00.000-08:00

Dear Readers,

It is high time I finally wrote another post. The big news: my time in the Peace Corps is over and I am back in the States. Saying good bye to my host family was easier than I expected and was further eased by the farewell party my counterparts gave me in our library that is finally up and running. For the party, music was played on someone’s stereo system while all of us guys drank beers and the kids from my art workshop flocked around the two computers that we had installed. My host mother Orfelinda joined us later and brought chicken and rice for everyone. Eventually I had to call it an evening and got to bed for a few hours of sleep before getting up and departing in the truck going to Morropón.

The morning I left I gave Orfelinda a hug and tried to give her two sons a hug, but I got the distinct impression they weren’t expecting on. I also said goodbye to my dog (actually Orfelinda’s dog) but he was busy sniffing bathing himself and didn’t pay me any mind.

I made to Piura safe and sound and met a lot of the new volunteers who were nearly done with training and were visiting their sites-to-be. I also spent some time with those friends who were around in the city for a whole day before leaving the afternoon of the next. When I got to Lima I spent much of my time with Julie, another PCV from my group who was in town to see the dentist. I was also very lucky to say good bye to some other PCV friends and staff as I was in Lima for a few days finishing formalities such as turning in my cell phone and giving unused medications to the PC doctor so they could be more safely disposed of than burned or dropped in my garbage pit. It was saying farewell to my fellow volunteer friends and PC staff that was the hardest part for me. It was never overwhelming because I knew it was happening, and it was good to see a lot of my friends again. But it wasn’t easy either.

Carrying my around luggage to the airport was the second hardest part of leaving Peru. By the grace of God I had no overweight fees, although I did have to redistribute my luggage’s weight several times in the Lima and Guayaquil (Ecuador) airports. I managed to pack everything I needed into all of my traveling bags, but it served mostly as a reminder that having more things than you need is more a hindrance in life than a luxury. Nevertheless I made it to Ecuador where I was shocked that I could not exchange Peruvian soles for US dollars (Ecuador uses American bills and a mixture of US/Ecuadorian coins) anywhere but the main bank, and there was no way I was going to hall my luggage across the city to the bank. Fortunately I still had some US currency that Peace Corps gave us to spend in Washington DC back before we had even left the country. Using that I was able to get transportation to the bus terminal (another nightmare due mostly to my luggage) and finally to my friend Emily’s apartment in Salinas. Emily and I had met several months prior in Piura when she stayed at the same hostel the PCVs did. At the time she was the only other American around, so we hung out. She told me she was doing grad school work in Ecuador and invited me to visit her and see the work she does – paleontology. I got to her apartment a little before she and some other volunteers from LA had arrived back from the site of the dig, so I had time to wash up and so forth a bit.

The week spent digging up bones of sloths that had been as big as elephants was an interesting and fun experience. The other people from LA were all very cool and fun to work with, each with a great attitude and sense of humor. At the same time it was very humbling because everyone had experience with paleontology, spoke the same jargon and, aside from just meeting Emily, knew each other. I had no idea how to properly dig up bones and accidentally pulverized the first one I found, thinking it was a clod of dirt that had been next to a bone.

My usual shyness around people quickly melted away as it tends to do, especially when the people around me and I are on similar wavelengths when it comes to telling jokes and stories. At one point during the dig I even said “I should look into doing this professionally; it’s the only job where I can be myself,” to which one of the diggers replied, “That’s the reason we all do this.” Nevertheless, I think that the tediousness would get to me; I would enjoy this as a hobby but not as a profession, but then I’m not much of a person to argue about tediousness: spending several weeks editing a lexicon for a Native American pidgin language I don’t even speak could similarly be regarded as tedious.

I was quite impressed with what little I saw of Ecuador. Normally I’ve had a hard time with Latin American food, and I don’t mean in terms of stomach ailments. I just have never found a liking for it. However, Salinas had a great little restaurant that one hopes is representative of Ecuadorian cuisine. The prices were nice and even more transparent since dollars were used. I can see myself visiting the country again.

I would have liked to have stayed longer at helped more with the dig, and I was sad to part ways with Emily and the people with whom I felt friendships had been started, but I was happy to see my family again at the end of the week. Being back in Nebraska doesn’t feel strange; indeed it feels as if I’d never really left. It is cold, but I’ve come to appreciate the cold more. I’ve been considering jobs I should do now. A friend is trying to convince me I should move to Berlin, and it’s something I’m giving serious thought to. But I have very little savings and also feel like I should stay State-side and work on that a bit. I also have only vague ideas about what I want to do. I have much better ideas about what I don’t want to do: I don’t want to teach English, or teach anything, really. I’m wondering how one goes about becoming a translator, although I’m not sure I want to do that as a full time position. I go back and forth on that. I’m also sure I don’t want to stay in Nebraska. I feel I need to be somewhere more urban, where there is more access to culture that isn’t had in my state. But mostly I am looking forward to going someplace new again, and I am planning on eventually getting back to Europe, if not sooner then later.

I’m going to finish this off with a list of all the books I read while in Peru, since they were my constant companions. Next to a few of them I’ve made little remarks. Some of the authors I’ve forgotten.

1. American Beauty (screenplay) (2nd time), by Allen Ball
2. Angels and Demons, by Dan Brown (2nd time in French)
3. Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne
4. Assimil New French with Ease
5. Bag of Bones by Stephen King
6. Becoming Enlightened, by His Holiness The Dalai Lama
7. Blood Meridian: Or the Evening Redness in the West, by Cormac McCarthy
8. Bluebeard, by Kurt Vonnegut
9. Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex, by Mary Roach
10. Bourne Identity, The, by Robert Ludlum
11. Breathing Method, The, by Stephen King (Actually this is a novella in the book “Different Seasons” but I counted it because it could be its own book)
12. Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut (I almost gave up reading this book but decided to stick with and it ended up being one of the funniest books I’ve read for its peculiar descriptions of everyday things.)
13. Cardinal of the Kremlin, The by Tom Clancy
14. Catch Me If You Can by Frank W. Abagnale with Stan Redding
15. Cell, by Stephen King
16. Christian Agnostic, The by Leslie D. Weatherhead
17. Christmas Carol, A (Nth time), by Charles Dickens (I enjoy this book because it’s simple to read and available for free in many of the languages I want to study.)
18. Clear and Present Danger, by Tom Clancy
19. Collected Stories by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (I don’t think I’m a fan of this guy, but some of the short stories were great.)
20. Confessions of an Economic Hitman
21. Conversations with God: An Uncommon Dialogue Vol. One by Neale Diamond Walsch (A very interesting philosophical book. I don’t know how I feel about its “revelations,” though.)
22. Crònica de Una Muerte Anunciada, by Gabriél García Marquéz
23. Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, The by Mark Haddon
24. Deadeye Dick, by Kurt Vonnegut
25. Debt of Honor, by Tom Clancy
26. Defense Language Institute Foreign Language Center General Catalogue 2006-2007 (Actually a catalogue of courses available. I doubt I’ll ever go there since I don’t think I’ll join the military, but I’d love to study here, as it’s supposed to be one of the best, if not the best, language schools in the world.)
27. Desperation, by Stephen King
28. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
29. Do Buddhas Go to Heaven?: The Evolution of the Soul in Myth, Science and Religion by Bob Myer
30. Don’t Sleep, There Are Snakes: Life and Language in the Amazon Jungle, by Daniel Everett
31. Dreaming in Hindi by Katherine Russell Rich
32. Duma Key by Stephen King
33. Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert
34. Ender’s Shadow, by Orson Scott Card
35. Esperanto: Its Origins and Early History
36. Esperanto kaj la estoneca plurlingvismo
37. Eye of the Needle, The by Ken Follet (Last book I read entirely, finished it my first day in Ecuador on my way to Salinas.)
38. Few Minor Adjustments, A (2nd time), by the Peace Corps
39. Fishbowl
40. Flowers for Algeron
41. Fountainhead, The by Ayn Rand (If the Nobel Prize for Literature is given to those who make great statements about humanity, then I’d give a Nobel Prize to whoever destroys every last copy of this rag. This is almost certainly the worse book I have ever read in my entire life. The only good thing that came out of it is now I finally have the courage to put down a book if it sucks. Until then, I always thought “In the next chapter it might get better.” Since this is an acclaimed classic, I gave this it lots of chances, but it disappointed me so badly I fear my life might be less for reading it. I’d also give this person a Nobel Peace Prize in addition to the Literature Prize for clearing out this blemish of a book.)
42. Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom, The by Don Miguel Ruiz
43. Game: Undercover in the Secret Society of Pickup Artists, The by Neil Strauss
44. God Delusion, The, by Richard Dawkins
45. Godless
46. Gospel According to Zen
47. Gospel of Judas
48. Gospel of Thomas
49. Guns, Germs, and Steel, by Jared Diamond
50. Hugo’s French in Three Months, by Ronald Overy and Jacqueline Lecanuet
51. I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, by Tucker Max
52. In Persuasion Nation, by George Saunders
53. In Praise of Slowness: Challenging the Cult of Speed, by Carl Honoré
54. Into Thin Air: A Personal Account of the Mt. Everest Disaster by Jon Krakauer (Amazing story. Completely cured me of any half baked notions I might want to try climbing Everest; not that I was really entertaining the thought anyways.)
55. It’s a Magical World (Calvin and Hobbes), by Bill Watterson (Every book in this series is great. If you haven’t checked this comics out, you should.)
56. Jonathan Livingston Seagull
57. Journey to the Center of the Earth, by Jules Verne (4x) (I used this book to help me get a grasp of French by reading it in English while listening to the French audio at the same time. I don’t enjoy that method much I’ve found, but it help get used to the language.)
58. Killer Angels, The
59. Kite Runner, The
60. Language Instinct: The New Science of Language and Mind, The by Steven Pinker
61. Last Lecture, The by Randy Pausch with Jeffery Zaslow
62. Last of the Bush Pilots, The, by Harmon Helmericks
63. Life is Good: Simple Words From Jake and Rocket, by Bert and John Jacobs
64. Life of Cardinal Mezzofanti, The, by C.W. Russell (An old biography of an Italian Cardinal who supposedly spoke at least 38 languages fluently.)
65. Life of Pi, by Yann Martel
66. Little Prince, The (Nth time) (I like how this book is available for free in various languages, but have never really been into the story.)
67. Lost Symbol, The by Dan Brown
68. Navajo Sound System, by Ken Hale and Lorraine Honie (Ken Hale is one of my heroes, but reading this linguistic paper he wrote was one of those “Maybe I don’t want to be a professional linguist” moments.)
69. New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose, A by Eckhart Tolle
70. Next, by Michael Crichton
71. Nine Hills to Nambonkaha: Two Years in the Heart of an African Village, by Sarah Erdman
72. No Country For Old Men, by Cormac McCarthy
73. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, by Stephen King (I really didn’t have high expectations for this book but it turned out that King describes the craft with such life that I could barely put it down.)
74. Outliers: The Story of Success, by Malcom Gladwell
75. Pagan Christianity: The Origins of Our Modern Church Practices by Frank Viola
76. Passive Aggressive Notes: Painfully Polite and Hilariously Hostile Writings
77. Perfect Storm, The, by Sebastian Junger
78. Pillars of the Earth, The
79. Plague, The by Albert Camus
80. Polyglot: How I Learn Languages (2nd time), by Kató Lomb (Kató Lomb was a Hungarian translator/interpreter/language genius. I don’t think this book is good at describing her method, but her love for language that shines through is inspiring.)
81. Power of Now (3x), by Eckhart Tolle (As I’ve written about many times in my blog, this book has been one of the most profound works I’ve ever read. I don’t think this book is for everyone, but the message in it – which is really just a rewording of an ancient message from other philosophies and faiths – I think probably would speak to everyone. Very accessible and down-to-earth, which was not what I was expecting when I started reading it.)
82. Princess Bride, The: S. Moregenstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure, by William Goldman
83. Prophet, The by Kahlil Gibran
84. Rag and Bone: A Journey Among the World’s Holy Dead by Peter
Manseau
85. Realities of Foreign Service Life, edited by Patricia Linderman and Melissa Brayer Hess
86. Refuse to Choose! By Barbara Sher (2x) (This book took a lot of stress off of me when I read that maybe I can just take life a little easier instead of decide on a career right away.)
87. Road, The by Cormac Mcarthy
88. Rose Madder, by Stephen King
89. Running Man, The by Stephen King
90. Saddest Pleasure, The: A Journey on Two Rivers by Moritz Thomsen (This book, and its prequel “Living Poor” are probably some of the best accounts of both Peace Corps and living in rural South American one can read in English.)
91. Soloist, The by Steve Lopez
92. Sound and the Fury, The, by William Faulkner
93. Speak Like a Native: Professional Secrets for Mastering Foreign Languages by Michael Janich
94. Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife, by Mary Roach
95. Stillness Speaks by Eckhart Tolle
96. Stranger, The (2nd time) by Albert Camus
97. Three Cups of Tea
98. Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold, by C.S. Lewis
99. What Does the Bible Really Teach?
100. What Dreams May Come (This was one of those books I put down only to sleep – I read while I ate. It completely blew me away.)
101. What’s Your Poo Telling You? (Very normal and candid conversation topic among PCV’s.)
102. Why is God Laughing? : The Path to Joy and Spiritual Optimism by Deepak Chopra
103. Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
104. World Without Us, The by Alan Weisman
105. Writing Life, The by Annie Dillard
106. Year of the Hare, The (A humorous Finnish novel that unfortunately I had to read in English. There was something about the story that was just so chilled out. I felt relaxed just by reading it.)
107. You’re Born an Original, Don’t Die a Copy! by John L. Mason

Peace,
Tristan

New Entry Coming Soon

2010-11-16T18:59:00.000-08:00

Hi Readers,

Apologies for not writing sooner. I'm preparing some entries but so far I haven't had much of a chance to post because I've been traveling and don't have a laptop.

In short, I've finished my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer, so now I'm an RPCV - the R means "returned" although currently I'm visiting a friend in Ecuador before actually returning home.

I will write more as soon as I can.

Tristan

Simply Living

2010-10-13T14:54:00.000-07:00

Originally Written October 10, 2010

Dear Readers,

I’m continuously ticking items off the final countdown list.

My latrine is finally all but finished. It still needs a few final touches, but it’s finally usable, and is far more pleasant than that natural disaster that my host family and I have been using for the past two years. Now I can turn most of my focus on getting the library up and running.

But mostly at this point I’m ready to finish up, go home, and move on to a new project. A couple of weeks ago I felt I was going through something akin to Stockholm Syndrome in that I was having thoughts such as “I could stay here longer” or “This is something I can see myself doing again.” However, somehow those notions vanished and I feel more and more like my inner compass is now pointing me in a new direction. I have no idea what that direction might be though.

Which perhaps isn’t as bad as I often fear it to be. Several months ago a wrote an article for the PCV newsletter the Volunteers publish amongst themselves in which I said as Peace Corps Volunteers, we must be adventurous-hearted folk. If I haven’t said it before, and I probably have here, that was mainly why I joined the Peace Corps: to live and experience something adventurous while I traveled and worked. It was to enrich my life, which it has.

But I also am humbled to see that I’m not the Indiana Jones-type adventurer I always dreamt about as a kid. Of course, upon watching all four of the movies I noticed that most of his trips lasted a week or so (although it’s hard to see in movies), not two years. But the fact is, part of me is surprised and a bit disappointed that it’s been so hard for me to adapt to Peruvian life. In my last entry I wrote about how it can be fun to make things a game and pretend to play a role of someone else, especially in the member of another culture, but in the interest of disclosure, that’s not a sure-fire thing for me. Often it can be exhausting. For the past three days my town has been celebrating local anniversary, but for much of it, I’ve felt lonely. Hearing the same music blasted over and over (and I do mean blasted, I can’t stress how loudly the music is played here), or the foods, some which is tasty, some which is not, be mostly just the feeling that even after two years, this isn’t my home. These types of feelings come and go and I don’t even necessarily dread them. After all, it is part of the international lifestyle I’ve been fortunate to have.

And I suppose that is the adventure in life. Where would the fun be if you always knew where you were going? I guess I find though the less baggage I have, both figuratively and literally, make more a happier traveler.

There is something to living simply. But by simple, I don’t mean necessarily mean a quiet life with few possessions or anything like that. I mean in the sense of keeping things as simple as possible and not getting caught up in our minds, which is where a lot of our problems and complaining start.

To be sure, it’s a great relief to purge a lot of my things. I’ll be leaving much of my clothes and possessions behind, simply because I won’t need them or they’d be too wieldy to pack up. I’ve been packing for the past few weeks and cleaned up my room as much as I could, although for some reason it looks just like it did before. I think I’ve written about living simply before, but in case I haven’t, or at least to serve as a reminder, I want to say a few things.

First: To reiterate, living a monastic life with few possessions doesn’t necessarily mean living an enlightened or enriched or fulfilling life. There’s nothing wrong with having stuff. What stuff one that may be is up to one’s self. Living away from current events, without hot water, without internet or a car (or even a bike) or – for the most part – nice restaurants or fast-food alike hasn’t brought me any closer to discovering the secret to life. I certainly do have a better appreciation for all of those things, but one doesn’t need to give up a lot creature comforts to seek out any spiritual truths or live a more healthy life or simply just be a better person.

However, these can also all be addictions and distractions from life. And even if they are not, think about how heavy it feels when you buy item after item and then look around at all the things you have. Some of us aren’t aware of it usually. We feel we need all those shoes and shirts and DVDs and whatever. Often though, we don’t. Patrick asked me earlier this week of all the places I’ve been to where would I most like to live (or maybe it was, which culture I thought was the best, or something like that; I don’t recall it verbatim). I’ve lived in Mexico, Germany, Peru, and for a month, France, whenever I haven’t been home in the USA. I told him that for my part, I don’t think the USA is the best, but I think it’s probably the most comfortable. At least for what I’m used to. I also enjoyed Germany a lot but only ever lived in a student dorm.

But for all the nice things about Western culture I think it can be very toxic to us as well because it’s so easy to abuse nice things. That’s why I say that it’s not bad to have things. But the accumulation of clutter, attaching to it, treating it as a status symbol, or whatever is the danger. It’s easy for us because there are so many possible distractions. I don’t consider Peru western culture, but that’s probably because I spend so much time in the country side. In the cities it can be very westernized. I went to a Walmart-ish department store in Piura and for a second was amazed at the music playing over the speakers. It’s like we are addicted to this white noise in our life. Try to picture driving in your car with nothing coming out of the radio or CD player. Even in our minds there is usually some running commentary that (I’m told) we are actually able to turn off.

The point of this is not to harp on capitalism or possessions. I guess I’m just trying to make the point that comfort easily becomes an addiction that we don’t even realize because it’s all around us and so easy to obtain. That might be why some people have said that to be free we need to get rid of our material goods. I don’t agree with that, but I have to admit that throwing things out can feel quite freeing. I guess the bottom line: self inflicted suffering is not necessary to living a life more deeply and stripped of distractions. It’ll probably end up creating more distractions anyway. But it seems to me that life seems to have a better resonance with there’s less junk blocking its tune.

Nothing in my blog is meant to act as a life coach. I’m only writing from my opinions. I’m writing this because I see it in myself, how certain things have become addictions to help me deal with the dullness of life. Even the notion that life is dull or painful implies that there perhaps some conditioning that has been going on; in other words concepts are being applied to aspects of life. As Patrick so often reminds me, words have to have meaning. And so they do. But the absence of words and the absence of concepts doesn’t mean that things vanish. A rose by any other name is still a rose. But imagine what it would be without concepts. Imagine it without calling it a rose, a flower, a plant, or anything else. What is it? It’s not even an “it.” It simply exists.

I think therein lies perhaps the essence of life. I suspect this is a truth because so far to me it feels to be true, like gravity feels to be true. And like gravity, this is available to everyone, haves and have-nots. But if we are drugging ourselves with things, than truths, including sometimes gravity, seems to not be so clear.

Anyways, God knows I’m caught up in my mind a lot, but with practice of noticing it, things seem to be getting clearer. That doesn’t mean I know what’s next though.

Till the next writing,
Tristan

Playing the Game

2010-09-19T21:29:00.000-07:00

Originally Written September 13, 2010

Dear Readers,

I’ve been thinking about how I’ve changed in the past two years. Or how my attitude towards Peru and my living situation has changed within the past year. I’ve thought about how I’ve grown accustomed to this place where I’m living, and how I’ve become more comfortable with this lifestyle.

I came here out of a sense of curiosity and adventure, but then became racked with guilt when I discovered I didn’t like the program of Water and Sanitation, wasn’t adjusting well to Latin American culture, and honestly wasn’t very passionate about directing development projects on my own here. But I’ve had a change of perception. I started separating myself from the end results, and started playing this like it were a game, and I were in a role.

The game is this: Go to another part of the world and adapt to it, adapt to its culture, and try to see the world through their eyes. Likely you won’t go native, and fortunately that’s not even necessary if you don’t wish. But play the game. Take it seriously the way children take play seriously, but don’t get take it seriously in the way the word is often interpreted. This will help you see the world in a lighter fashion. You’ll still have the work and the tasks, but they’ll be part of your role-playing. If this is your thing, it’ll help your attitude, rather than make you see it as a laborious task.

I wonder if all of life is like this. I’ve wondered now at the value we place on getting results, rather than on the doing. Results are important, of course, and goals help us go in the direction we are working towards, so the end of our labors should not be discounted. But in seeing things like this, we take the work less “serious” in the dreary sense of the word. When we read a book, it’s often the story that we get caught up in; it isn’t just that we are trying to race to the end. At least I try to enjoy the story, I ought to say.

I’ve been surprised at how I’ve viewed the people around me recently. Today I saw a lady playing with her neighbor’s four-month old child. I noticed the smallness of the infants head compared to the older lady’s. The smooth skin versus the lady’s leathery brown skin. The smile on the lady’s face and her laughter, while the baby’s eyes just kind of lolled around the room. The fact that they both had about the same amount of teeth wasn’t lost on me, either. For a moment I saw how human it was, and it was clear to me on a level that I hadn’t seen before. It was always in front of me, but couldn’t see it. It’s almost like watching a movie with parts of the screen blocked off, or with the colors all off-key. Instead I’d been busy complaining and worrying and feeling bad I wasn’t doing something else, either in my job, or just somewhere else away from here.

But when I started to take things less seriously and the world didn’t burn down or wasn’t sucked into the sky or everything suddenly drop over dying and kicking feebly, I started to see things the way that’s closer to reality, rather than how I perceive it. I started to see the humanity in things, for one. I started to realize that things go at their own pace, and that we all have certain sets of skills that are used uniquely.

And from there, it’s easier to enjoy life, I think. It’s easier to work. If you let things be the way they just are, it’s easier to approach them and find solutions obstacles.

And I’ve started to get tired of looking for the answers to life. Maybe there are answers. I suspect that life is not digging in a mine looking for answers, but that it’s more like being a tree that grows and changes with the seasons. I wonder if maybe there are no answers, and God didn’t put us here to learn anything, except that only to learn that life is not school, and as soon as we stop assigning value to the end result, do we really start to live.

Till the next writing.

Tristan

What Comes After Peace Corps?

2010-08-29T07:49:00.001-07:00

Originally written August 25, 2010

Dear Readers,

Many people have asked me what I’m going to do after Peace Corps. Like most volunteers I’ll be heading home, as I have opted not to do a third year. So they say, what are my plans. So is my answer everyone:

I really don’t know.

My options seem to be one of the following two: grad school or work. Of those I’ll probably try to work. I like the idea of grad school. I like academia. I like abstract thinking, I love learning, I love the university atmosphere. For a while I even considered becoming a professor. But for the time being I don’t know what I want to study.

As those who’ve read my earlier posts know, for a while I considered linguistics. I still like the idea of linguistics, but I don’t know now that I am the right person to go and find informants to learn their language and write a grammar up about it. I haven’t ruled that out though and I still firmly believe that we as a species should make an effort to preserve and cherish our various languages and dialects. But I don’t know if I feel the calling to field linguistics I once felt.

Others have suggested then I become a translator or interpreter. I think I could enjoy these jobs part-time. The problem is, though, that one often needs to specialize in one or two second languages and focus on them as well as focusing on a specific area or two to specialize in, say medicine, law, computer technology, economics, or so on. What isn’t obvious to many is that it’s simply not enough to know a language to be able to translate it. Most of us lack technical legal or medical jargon in our native languages, so we often don’t learn or even need it in our second languages.

That’s not to say I couldn’t do it, and I have been thinking about areas I do find interesting. Perhaps linguistics, for example. One thing about working as a translator that appeals to me is that I could perhaps work freelancing. On the pro side: I’d be working for myself, choosing my own clients and making my own hours, which also means I could work out of my house from my computer if I so desired. The con side, or maybe optimistically I should say the challenges would be marketing myself and taking the time to build up my professional reputation and clientele. And since it would be my own business, I would be in charge of keeping my own books, at least until I could hire someone to do it for me, if I felt it was worth it.

I’m not yet sold on translating though. I have a natural knack for it and am considering it as a second means of income, but frankly I feel I’d become bored with the work after awhile. Naturally, it also depends on what I’m reading and translating, but even so when I do repetitive jobs, while for the first few months I immensely enjoy them (such as when I edited my Chinook dictionary) I then grow tired and need a change of scenery.

A few people, including my family, have suggested I look into working for the government. With my interest in languages, traveling, and other cultures I could probably be valuable, and there’s probably truth to that. I really don’t have much to say to them about this because I haven’t yet looked into it for myself in any great depth. Many PCVs go on to work in the Foreign Service.

These are my feelings about this so far though. I’m fairly certain I do not want to go into the Foreign Service, at least. I have no real interest in being an ambassador; to put it bluntly I feel my spirit needs more freedom to move around. In this way I guess I’m a bit of a contradiction because I also know that in many cases it helps me immensely to be told what to do. But to not be able to speak my own mind would bother me. The other thing is I read a book about Foreign Service life last year. I don’t know much about the line of work, and this book focused primarily on the home or family life: what it’s like to travel around, how it affects your children, and so on. It actually sounded very unappealing to me, especially after Peace Corps. It sounded exhausting and draining, and I’m already sufficiently tired from living here to think about living what appears to be a somewhat chaotic life again.

I think I’m looking for something simple right now. In many ways Peace Corps *is* of course simple, but the living conditions can be quite trying and I’m ready to move back into something that more closely resembles my old standards of comfort.

I have considered studying how to teach English and doing that abroad. I’ve tried teaching English here but didn’t like it, so I’m wary of this option. However, when I was trying it here, I had no idea how to present material, and I didn’t and still don’t know how to tell if my students cared enough or understood enough for the lessons to matter. One problem I’ve run into (doubtless other teachers have faced this as well) is when I ask my select group of pupils if they understand what I’m saying, they always say yes, and I really doubt they do understand it every single time I ask. They also never ask questions, or if they do, they are so shy that the whisper the question to someone braver to ask. I’ve tried to convince I won’t scalp them if they speak up, but I guess they don’t all believe me. Maybe I don’t have any skills as a teacher. I certainly am not sure that I do, or that I even have the heart of a teacher. But it’s not something I feel I’ve given a fair shot.

Besides, if I want to try to live abroad again, which I do, by the way, teaching folk to talk ’merican might be one of the easiest ways to get my foot in the door of acquiring a visa and staying for longer than a month or three.

Where am I hoping to go? I few ideas have crossed my head. Germany, most notably, and I have a friend in Berlin how has told me she would be willing to assist in my relocation there. Europe in general has lots of appeal to me, and especially Germany, because I think it’s an amazing country, I feel I get along with the people, I love the language, and foreign languages are more easily accessible there. I often wish I had been born in a more multilingual community.

Lately, actually I’ve been getting a renewed interest in Japan, though. Vague motions beneath the surface, but there. This is kind of surprising because I haven’t had much of an interest in going to Japan since I was a freshman in college, planning to do a study abroad there that didn’t work out (for more on that story go back to the very first entry or so of my blog).

Since then my interest kind of burned out, but after meeting some people who know the culture better I have been thinking about giving it a second go. I am also interested in learning Japanese, and lately have been becoming more interested in some aspects of Eastern philosophy. Even if I didn’t go there and teach English, I think it would be valuable to study some under some philosophy teachers. Some people go on spiritual quests that take them to places like India. Maybe this is something similar for me.

There is one thing I should say though that I feel is true about me, and this is actually another reason why I don’t think I’m cut out for government work: I don’t think I’m a career person. That does not mean I’m not a hard worker, or don’t want to work, because both of those would be false. But I have several varied interests, and while I know I don’t need to wrap all of them into a job (I’m not sure how one could, anyways) I think that if I worked one scene too long, I’d get tired and become dull. Since our parents’ generation was raised in the career field and it’s spilled over onto my generation of twenty-somethings, this probably sounds a bit strange. But the more I think about it, the more traditional careers seem a thing of the past, and while I’m glad that there are people out there who view the world in a career-mode (often people like doctors, most scientists, lawyers, to name a few) I think I need more variety in my life. It’s a gift: many famous people had this trait: Leonardo da Vinci, Goethe, Thomas Jefferson.

At my heart I am an explorer and adventurer. I need to constantly be learning about the world. I need to support myself but I don’t think it would be wise of me to put a roof over my head if I was going to feel unhappy and stifled.

The other thing I wanted to say this time around was that I’ve worried to much about the future and about what others will think. So I’m dropping it. Like a bad habit there will probably be backsliding, but I’m considering it a lifestyle change. I’ve had too much negative energy and anxiety (any difference?) in my life and I’m tired of it. I do worry about what I’ll be doing: so many options I mentioned, and none of them feel 100% right…what to do??? But then why should I worry? There is a flow to life, and I think we just need to let it take us where it will. As I’ve said before, that doesn’t mean just sit back and let things fix themselves. It’s more like: I have goals and dreams, but I realize that fulfillment can only come from within. Whether or not I become a Nobel prize winning philosopher that they make a movie out of or just a humble English teacher in a Japanese village, whose to say that either life is better than the next? Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t want to work part-time jobs the rest of my life: I have higher dreams than that, but the reason we so often look down on those positions is because of status that we assign it. Yet if that’s what life gives us, is there really anything wrong with it? A redwood is indeed majestic, but do roses or daisies fret about that?

I guess then I’ll just let life unfold at its own rate, the way a plant grows or a stone is polished by the wind at its own rate. I don’t want life to pass me by, I want to live it to its fullest. But we can’t force a redwood to hurry up and grow. Maybe we shouldn’t force life either.

Peace,
Tristan

A 1/4 Century Under My Belt

2010-07-18T14:48:00.000-07:00

Originally Written July 17, 2010

Dear Readers,

I felt it was time for another post, since I haven’t written one since I discussed my trip to Bolivia. And in fact I write on the eve of another trip: in a couple of days I’ll be meeting up with my parents in Cuzco.

I write, almost a week after my birthday during which I completed a quarter century of existence. I’m afraid I don’t have any wisdom to part with off the cuff, but that’s going to stop me from writing my piece here.

I celebrated my birthday quietly. Initially I had planned on not telling anyone, since I was afraid the villagers would try to get me drunk. But this birthday seemed like a milestone of some kind, and I wanted to share it with someone. I couldn’t tell Patrick because he had gone to Lima on Peace Corps business, although he’s gone there so often lately that I’m suspecting he’s leading a double life of some kind. So I told Orfelinda, my host mother. She just congratulated me and gave me a hug. I told that cat, too, but the cat didn’t give a damn.

However, Teofilo, my counterpart already knew. It seems I told him a while ago when my birthday was, safe in the knowledge that he’d forget the date. It turns out though, that in this I was a victim of incorrect thought. He summoned me from lunch and insisted that I have a few beers with him, which turned out to be not as painful as I feared because it wasn’t a large group, and also because we were drinking beer and not homebrewed swill that is quite popular up here. I have to admit, I was touched he remembered, since usually my memory is less perfect.

The best part for me though was the messages I got from my friends on the phone. I think connections are probably the best thing there is, despite my not-infrequent need for solitude.

In three months and change I’ll be closing this chapter of my life and moving on to something new. But I don’t know what yet and it causes me a bit of anxiety, at least as far as work goes.

I think I need to make some personal changes though. Much of my life was ruled by anxiety, which led to depression, guilt and low self-esteem. The anxiety isn’t as bad as it used to be, and I overall feel much better than I used to. I’ve had to accept some very real things about myself. For one example, I had to accept the way I work here in the Peace Corps. For the first several months here I was miserable in one shape or another. Then I started doing what I liked and have felt a lot better. Of course, this should seem obvious, but the things that I am interested in aren’t really pertinent to Peace Corps development work. That’s been the source for a lot of guilt for me, but when I started to understand my personality, I started to accept that I can help in other ways, but not the ways it seems it would be expected of a person typically in the role I’m in as a volunteer.

But on a bigger level, aren’t we all playing some role? The role of students, or parents, or friends, or enemies, or the sarcastic person, etc? It’s a notion that I came across and to be honest it hasn’t really sunk in yet.

But to illustrate, the other night I was frustrated because I didn’t know what to believe: I felt I couldn’t believe what I had been taught in my youth because I had been taught it without being able to think about it critically, I just accepted someone else’s views.

And I felt I couldn’t accept what I thought I believed, because it had still been shaped, tainted, if you will, by what others had told me. I couldn’t believe what I wanted to believe because how did I know I wasn’t just trying to emulate someone else and not be myself?

But underneath it all, so subtly, so quiet that it made it’s presence known but without a huge epiphany, there was this stillness, almost like a flatness, and it said to me, not with words, but just in a way I only perceived it, that it was also part of me, and I sensed the message “Who is trying to decide what to believe?” Underneath the noise of thought and feeling, there is still something else.

Now, this is stuff that I’ve been reading a lot about these past two years, so I was more amused than surprised by any of this. I guess it’s also possible that it was implanted in my sub-consciousness. But the more I learn about physics – which incidentally is very little and at a layman’s level – the more science seems to suggest a deeper level of existence…but it through connections to other dimensions (String Theory, which comes to mind because it suggests we inhabit ten dimensions instead of three, although because I know next to nothing about it, I don’t known if it’s germane to what I’m talking about right now), and yoga and meditation all seem to give evidence of a deeper sense of Self that we lose track of.

I think that’s what I need to find now. I think religion aside, or political ideology aside, or any tags or labels, there is one rule: Do know harm. And it perhaps isn’t even a rule to be followed or broken, but just a fact, like gravity. Gravity draws things to the ground, as I understand the law to be. Maybe there is a law in harming things: if you harm something, you aren’t punished so much as you also harm yourself. Looking after your interests is one thing: but being selfish is quite another. After we hurt someone, if we are in synch with our feelings, do we really feel good afterwards?

As far as my guilt complex, my anxiety over actions that I take in life. I don’t have any answers. I suspect that I’m addicted to labels, to needing to tag everything as right or wrong, and this feel guilty about everything. Because it takes a lot of effort for me simply to enjoy myself sometimes, simply to enjoy life, because sometimes I can’t tell if doing is right or wrong. I don’t mean in the sense of right or wrong in, for example, wondering if I should rob a bank or anything dramatic like that. But, to give two examples, I remember that in the very few occasions that I did drink underage, I felt paranoid about it, never able to relax. I remember starting to drive that I never seemed as at ease with it because I felt that if I was even one mile over the speed limit, I was a target for a ticket.

I’ve always valued loyalty to people, never wanting to let them down. And that’s a trait I hope to maintain throughout my life…the loyalty part. Sometimes in life, people are let down. But when I let myself down, I’ve never really learned how to be gentle on myself. I’m such a hard self-judge, even when I don’t want to be, I just don’t know how to turn this switch off.

I am now working focusing on growing past this. There is, I believe an optimistic side to this all: My mind and my body are working to create stress which creates pain that I can feel even as I write this: But instead of feeling like I’m being betrayed by the body I wear, maybe it’s telling me: Alright: now it’s time to move onto the next stage of life, and by understanding this signals correctly, understand that it is a stage where you can better understand that life is a joy.

Hope all is well.

Tristan

Bolivia, Airline Tickets, French, and More

2010-06-07T13:21:00.001-07:00

Originally Written June 6, 2010 (Anniversary of D-Day, the Battle for Normandy in 1944)

Dear Readers,

I apologize for my lapse in writing for the past month or so, or whenever my last entry was. I haven’t forgotten to write. The truth was I just didn’t feel like it, and I didn’t want to force anything when I write. So it was best for me not to write at all.

I’ve been traveling a lot out of site this past month, with the big trip being a voyage I took to Bolivia. This trip had an ironic little tidbit of trivia about it for me: of all the traveling I’ve done, this was actually the first time I ever booked my own airline tickets. Every other time my parents did it, or an organization (such as Peace Corps or Rotary when I was an exchange student to Mexico), or friends did. The one time I thought for sure I’d be booking my own tickets, and thus taking this step into traveler’s independence, was when I was trying to fly to Denmark to visit my friend Maria, and I asked another friend, Dylon, to show how to book tickets online. Instead he just did it all for me, which is not what I wanted.

Like most things, however, it turned out to be a lot less scary than I imagined it would be. My phobia was about coordinating times and then missing my flights. I don’t know how many times I read my schedule to those around me, trying to hear second opinions about if that sounded good or if they saw some logistical error I had missed, such as not granting myself enough lay-over time.

This last paragraph, however, points to an issue of mine that I’m struggling to overcome: Getting other people’s opinions. To a point, it’s often healthy to listen to the views of others, since no one knows everything and can often benefit from hearing from the wisdom of second parties. But then there comes a time where a person is unable to function well because of how they think other people view them or because they constantly feel they need to look to other people for reassurance or affirmation. This is something that I’ve struggled with for so long sometimes it’s hard to tell which thoughts are my own thoughts and which are “programmed” views of others, or of the media (generally speaking), or of the media put into other’s heads which is then put into my head, and so on. I’ve noticed that even when I speak, I often start repeating phrases and words that other’s before me have just used. Sometimes this is because what the other has said seems to make perfect sense, but sometimes I get a little paranoid it’s a result of not being able to think for myself.

It’s ironic, but I wonder if being encouraged “thinking for one’s self” is one of the causes of not thinking for one’s self. If we are encouraged to investigate on our own, as we are, and let me be clear, I do think this is very important, I think sometimes we are seduced by what we don’t understand, but start repeating it as our own views, or saying we that we endorse such and such a view even though we don’t understand it.

……Ok, this is getting to circular for me. I’ve been looking into meditation and learning how to live a more spiritual life and one less stuck on ego, or in the head, because basically, that stuff I wrote above goes through my head all the time and it’s a huge energy drain. I don’t need anymore anxiety or stress or confusion in my life. I’m starting to see that there’s a way to live without all that, and I’m trying to figure out how one goes about doing it. It’s something I’m a little skittish about, because I know that there are a lot of people with ulterior motives such as money or attention, but then look at any spiritual or religious journey: No matter the path you take you will find very honest resources and people, as well as dishonest ones. Anyways, I’m trying to figure out how one lives a life of peace and fullness, rather than one where you are always analyzing the world. It was kicked off by a book I read, called “The Power of Now” by Eckhart Tolle (I believe I’ve mentioned on my blog before) and it’s been a journey of significance for me this past year and a half.

(I just took a break to play with the dog. Now I’m back to writing.)

Philosophy aside, I’ll write a bit about my trip to Bolivia. Maya, a friend of mine from Switzerland, was traveling around Peru and Boliva for a couple of months and I asked her if she wanted a traveling companion for any of it, since she was basically traveling alone. She agreed and so we met in Puno, where I was for Holy Week. From there we travelled by bus into Bolivia. For Americans, traveling to Bolivia means paying an extra $135 because the Bolivian and American governments don’t know how to get along, and so they take it out on the tourists. I was aware of this. However, at the border, the ticket-taker on the bus (I don’t know if he was Peruvian or Bolivian) told me that I didn’t have any vaccination papers and that I’ve have to pay another $25 dollars. Not really having a choice that I could see, I exchanged my money into bolivianos which he said wouldn’t work, so I had to re-exchange my money right back into dollars for him. He took it and went to talk with whoever you talk to when you scam someone. I shouldn’t say he was scamming me since I really don’t know, but I didn’t get a good vibe from him. Afterwards, he tried to assure me that he wasn’t taking my money, that it was for so I wouldn’t have to give any vaccination papers that I didn’t have (which worked out: no one asked to see anything other than my passport, but I don’t know if that is what was going to happen in the first place) and he suggested a tip might be in order. I was able to move on without paying him anything else, though.

That evening Maya and I went to an Island on Lake Titicaca called “Isla del Sol” off the city of Copacabana. We found a hostel to stay in and while walking around ran into some German tourists. They were a father and daughter from Dresden and while chatting, we agreed to get dinner together. The daughter spoke perfect, Irish-accented English, having lived in Belfast, yet her father struggled with the language. But neither of them spoke Spanish, so Maya and I ended up being their translators when the need arose during dinner. Nothing worth writing about was discussed during dinner, but it was incredible to me how perfect strangers could meet randomly and walk away a few hours later as friends.

This turned out to be the theme of the trip, and also the best part of it. The next day as Maya and I ended back towards the mainland, we happened to be sitting in front of a couple that I heard garbling some language back and forth, but speaking English ever now and then. Finally, wondering what in the hell it was they were speaking, I turned around and asked (as I usually do when I hear a language I don’t understand) where they were from. Turns out they were a couple from South Africa but they had been living in London for almost a decade. Maya perked up at this because she has personal connections to South Africa, I personally was more interested figuring out how to speak their language. We ended up talking about South African culture, sports, food, languages, and so on for the rest of the boat ride. When we got back to Copacabana, Jaco and Salmina talked about how they need to get money and bus tickets for La Paz. Neither of them knew much Spanish, so we split up to the bank and to the bus station, Maya and I serving as interpreters for the couple.

As Maya and I were heading to La Paz for the next stop, we ended up traveling together, finding a hotel, and spending the next couple of days or so together.

La Paz is set in a beautiful part of the world, and the first glimpse of it really was stunning. But the city itself was less than impressive. If someone wants to travel there, I wouldn’t stop them, but you certainly won’t die if you don’t get to it, and I think Bolivia has better places for tourists, such as the Salt Flats, which I will need to visit someday. But the four of us still had a great time just hanging out together, going to restaurants (which were excellent, I thought. It was all tourist food but to be honest that’s what I was in the mood for) and playing cards. Jaco and I discussed books that we liked to read, and I’m not sure what the girls did, when they weren’t with us, although we once did get separated in the black market of La Paz which made Jaco and I a bit nervous. We also got locked out of our hotel, went to a place called a Witch’s Market where you can buy good luck charms, ranging from colorful seeds, to dried, dead baby alpaca (or llama) carcasses to bury under your home for good fortune, and we visited a place called The Valley of the Moon, where years of erosion has made for a landscape out of mud, that doesn’t really look like the moon, but does look other worldly as you walk through it. We were within hearing distance of a firing range, and when a gun went off Jaco would try to identify it. I thought this was amusing because I’m used to most folks I meet from other countries to think that guns were crafted by Satan himself.

Dylon, if you’re reading this, I think you would get along with Jaco as well. I mentioned your South Africa passion with him and Salmina, which they both appreciated.

By the time Maya and I parted ways with Jaco and Salmina, we’d made yet more friends and I added Afrikaans to my ever-growing list of languages to learn. I’ll try to learn it after Dutch, which hopefully I can get to fairly soon.

From there, Maya and I joined up with another Swiss lady, Sonja, this one from the German speaking part (Maya’s from the French speaking part) and we traveled to a small town in the mountains called Sorata. The town itself doesn’t have much to offer, but it does have surprisingly good pizza joints.
The reason people go to Sorata is to hike the mountains around it. After some confusion we arranged for a guide to take us on a day-hike to see a pool of water that had been sacred to the indigenous people centuries ago (you can still see remnants of their stone homes around the lagoon). The landscapes were gorgeous, and it was perfect podcast listening time, so I while taking in the mountains and valleys around me, I got to learn about the intelligence of dolphins, theories about what may or may not happen in 2012, studies about how some people can’t feel physical pain, and how a French mass-murder inspired the tale of Bluebeard.

I remember being surprised when we got to the lagoon since it was much smaller than I thought it would be. But it was quiet and Sonja, Maya, and I plus our guide were the only ones there. Unfortunately the clouds rolled in and obscured the view of the mountains, but the lagoon itself was quite serene.

And that basically was where my trip ended. After that, we got up early and headed back to La Paz, from whence Sonja and Maya planned on going to the jungle together, and I had to get back to Peru. From that point everything went without a hitch: no having to bribe people at the border, no delayed flights, or anything like that.

Back in site, my library continues to progress: the committee acquired book shelves as well as a donation to continue funding the work, and the latrine I’m building with the help of Teofilo is finally starting to look like a latrine.

Today I helped Patrick in one of his caserios as he gave a presentation about the importance of washing one’s hands. The truth is, if I gave demonstrations like that on a regular basis, I’d lose what’s left of my mind. Granted, it was a Sunday which means that people have been at the bottle all day, but even so, I don’t think I have the drive in me to lead groups like that.

But I started to see something I hadn’t seen before. It dawned on me that folk like them make up the much of the world, and to many of us, they aren’t a reality. We hear about how they live, without clean water, without education, without nutrition, in short, and I hope I’m not putting them down, but very simple lives. There’s a romanticism about simplifying life, but I don’t think this is the way people should hope for. There might be less materialistic stress out here, but the lack of opportunities, not just to an education, but to more basic things like a balanced diet are not even in the picture for them, both in terms of what’s available to them as well as what they are aware of. Case in point: adults have to be instructed on how to wash their hands and why it’s important to do so before eating and after relieving themselves.

When this dawned on me in a way it hadn’t before, I started to feel a level of compassion I think people talk about but I wonder how many of them actually feel. It’s not that I’m perfect though: even after nearly two years here I still often get irritated with what I perceive as backwards and don’t view them the way I probably ought to.

To wrap this up: I’ve also been studying the hell out of French. It started with new fervor after I met Maya, so I could communicate with her in her native language, and I’ve really gotten into becoming proficient in the language. While at this point I’d certainly still struggle to hold a conversation, I’m at a level where I understand much of the structure of the language quite well. I’m trying to develop a program I can use to learn other languages as well. I feel that I’m on a path of developing such a personal program that will enable me to learn languages rather quickly, using multiple methods, including flashcards, teach-yourself courses, novels, and so on.

I have yet to test anything, but I’m optimistic that I’m on the right track.

Till next time!
Tristan

Picking the Self Up

2010-04-30T20:54:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

First off, I wrote an entry while at site. But I was not feeling in great spirits when I wrote it and it was kind of a downer.

A few days later when I got to the city of Piura I spoke with a friend of mine who has already finished her service and gone home. I was telling her about some of the things I was stressing over, and how I was "done" and "out of gas" and all of that. And she asked me if I really was done with Peru and Peace Corps and if I felt like I was wasting time.

Well, I don't know about that. I think sometimes I honestly feel that yes I am wasting time actually. That's not a good feeling. You're ticking life away just to get over something and on to something else. Kind of a pity.

And then I serendipitously I came across an amazingly imaginative blog written by a highly imaginative, intelligent, and artist young woman and I started to wonder how I might come by some of that energy in my life. Some carefree lightness. I don't like always being a walking analyzing computer.

And it's starting to dawn on me that there is no real combination to do things that's not wasting your life. It's your mind set. I've written about this before, but writing it down again helps me learn the lesson again. My friend told me I needed to find something to do that helped me know I wasn't going to later feel that my time in Peru was wasted time. Well, for my friendships I've made my time has not been a waste of any kind.

But my town has presented with me a challenge. Basically the challenge of precious little to do for a person like myself who likes to have lots of stimulation. I can only take so much language study, podcasts, reading, and painting at a time. Talking to people is a challenge because I quickly run out of things to talk about with them and have never been great at small talk. I teach my English classes and put together my art sessions for the kids, but while those are good for the people in town, each one reminds me that I definitely don't want to be a teacher.

But when you have to work with limited options, I think perspective makes a lot of difference. Maybe that's what my friend meant; learn to be happy with the situation, since there is so much of it I cannot change.

I will never be a chipper person. Actually it drains me when people are chipper. That's just not how I'm wired. But I do want to feel more of life, and not feel dreary and weighed down, like I'm wearing heavy layers of wet clothing in on an overcast day slogging along to a task that gives me no fulfillment. I think that's what life can be to me sometimes, and I don't mean anything specific, but just the mindset we get into. It's hard to do this, of course, when I'm reminded of all that I don't like about my job or site, and honestly there is a lot about it that bothers me. But do I have to let it rule my life anymore. I don't like rice, or being away from everyone, or a lot of other things, but do I have to continue to make enemies with where I am in life? Am I too busy fighting that to miss the beauty around me? It's hard because negativity is loud and painful and noticeable. So maybe stop fighting it actively, and just ignore it if you can't do anything about it.

So that's my blog for tonight.

One thing: I doubt I'll be posting any more photos up on Facebook now. I'm probably going to open up a photo-sharing site where my photos don't become the property of the site I'm using. Any good suggestions for photo-sharing sites? I've heard of Flickr. Any other good ones?

Here is a quote from a blog that helped make me see some reason. It's out of context, but the quote itself is positive as it stands alone:

"I woke up really early on Wednesday morning for no reason. In retrospect, I can see it was probably my body's way of telling me that I might die later that day, so I better get the hell up and start enjoying the shit out of life." - Allie Brosh

And a shout-out to Patrick, because I know he always is asking if I mentioned him in my blog. So Patrick. Patrick Patrick Patrick. There, kid. You should be sitting well for a while. :-P

Take care, all.
Tristan

Oh, and a shout out to Patrick, because I know he always is asking if I mentioned him in my blog. So Patrick. Patrick Patrick Patrick. There, kid. You should be sitting well for a while. :-P

Holy Week Vacation

2010-04-09T21:28:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

For some reason it's hard for me to think of a way to begin this entry. A lot of things happened this past week, this Holy Week vacation. I started it out by getting burglarized. I don't recommend this experience. My hostel room was broken into and my computer, camera, e-reader (like a Kindle, but a different brand) plus accessories for all three of those items vanished into the Peruvian sun while I was out getting breakfast. I won't go into the details, because more than anything I am tired of going over the details after explaining it to my parents, my friends, to the police, to the Peace Corps security officer, on insurance forms, and so on.

But my life wasn't ruined. Patrick immediately let me borrow a spare laptop he had been planning to use for the rest of service so I don't go completely crazy at site. That being said, though, I was surprised how much in stride I took this all. I had assumed I'd be rabidly furious if I had been robbed, but it happened and if anything, once I saw how futile it was to be mad, I was left with a feeling of calmness. There was disappointment, disgust, and some anger, but mostly calmness, like an open plain where a storm hits. After a while the storm moves on and only the plains last. I don't know what this means about me. I've struggled a lot with things in my life, and every day there are new challenges, but I think it's a good sign of growing that I didn't simply have a meltdown like I thought I would.

Of course, I hope this never happens again. It still is a hassle, regardless of how even-keeled you might (or might not) react. At least insurance and an external hard-drive provided a cushion to fall on.

Aside from some minor glitches (our flight being delayed several hours, and one friend's luggage being shipped down on a flight other than our own)we made it to Arequipa, in southern Peru, safely and smoothly.

My general impressions about both Arequipa and Puno were that if I were living in that area on a more regular basis, I'd probably have a much more favorable impression of Peru than where I live now. One of the most important lessons I've learned is that in the long run it probably doesn't matter where you live, but in lots of ways I felt the area down there suited me better. The weather was wonderful, the scenery was breath-taking, the city of Arequipa had what to me was a European feel, it was more international and more multilingual, the food was better and there just seemed to be more culture. I can see why people are dazzled by Peru, and I feel a little humbled by my ignorance of what I hadn't seen, and what I still haven't. I still wouldn't want to live here for the rest of my life, but I started to see the land with fresh eyes.

I learned that as romantic as climbing and hiking all the time sounds to me, I don't think it's something I'm too dedicated to. I spent two days hiking with Glen, Liz, and Patrick in the Colca Canyon, which is the second deepest canyon in the world. I love the outdoors, but after two days of doing that, almost fainting two or three times from altitude and exertion I wasn't accustomed to, I decided to heck with it. I'd rather go hiking through the woods and come home to nice warm bath. Nevertheless, the camp we stayed at was nice. Patrick complained about the lack of walls in the cabin (they were made out of reeds) and how despite the employee saying there were no bugs out there, he still managed to find a beetle that he referred to as a "saber-tooth tiger bug". Over all he was in good spirits though and even sung songs to me despite me saying how I wanted to hike in silence. His positive energy kept me positive though, especially since I was having a hard time not being irritable by the end of the trail.

On the way back from the canyon we ended up sitting near two other hikers, one French and one Swiss, who taught French at a school in Arequipa. Therefore I got the chance to practice some of my French which I had been trying to learn but fading in.

The night we got back I was starting to feel the crowd press in around me and needed breathing room. I sat and recharged in the plaza while I watched the people move around me. It was important for me at various points to recharge my energy because constantly moving around and site-seeing took its toll.

The evening after we got back from Colca Canyon, I set out looking for a quiet place to read and drink a hot chocolate, so I went to a French restaurant. And who did I find there but the Swiss and French girls from the bus sitting at the table across from mine having dinner with friends. They invited me to sit with them, so I had a dessert with them and chatted with Maya, the one from Switzerland, as well as talked about drawing pictures with a man from England who was with the group. Afterward I joined them for drink in a bar for about an hour. Before leaving, Maya asked me if we could meet up for dinner the following evening, which I accepted. The following evening she showed me a French restaurant and we spent a nice evening talking.

The next day I headed to Puno, the city on Lake Titicaca. By this point in the trip I was feeling very introspective, needing to be alone to recharge. The city of Puno itself didn't offer much of this as far as I could tell, but outside of it and on the lake itself there were beautiful landscapes that I found very peaceful.

I was hoping to find some materials on Aymara, the language spoken in that part of Peru (and Bolivia) but to no avail. It was also a humbling experience for me to be on the islands listening to the natives speak in Quechua and Aymara and not have a clue what they were saying. Usually when I travel to a country I at least have a basic knowledge of the language. Even in Denmark I was able to make out a tiny bit with the Norwegian I had studied. But here I was only able to use Spanish, which was a second language to many of them. It gave me a motivation to study Quechua at least, and also a perspective that I have been lucky to not have most of the time I travel.

At the end of the week we all came back to Piura and I have been continuing to work out insurance papers concerning my equipment. I have a good idea of what kind of camera I want to replace my old one with. I haven't yet decided on what kind of computer.

Anyways, I'm going to end the post here. I wanted to say though that this trip has given me a whole new appreciation for Peru and it's beauty and culture. Had I seen Arequipa sooner, I might see if I could have moved down to that area. The food, the weather, the landscapes, the cultures, the languages, the fact that it's more international...It showed me a side of Peru I had not yet seen.

Nothing real profound to talk about tonight. Sorry. But I wanted to write out a post before I head back to site tomorrow.

Peace,
Tristan

Illness...Again

2010-03-30T19:00:00.000-07:00

Originally Written March 29, 2010

Dear Readers,

It seems like these past few months I have been traveling a lot. I don’t know if that is actually true, but maybe it’s because I feel inclined to go to my regional capital more since it’s rainy and cloudy at site. But this past week was also travel-filled. I went down to a site a few hours outside of Lima to help a fellow volunteer with a project called “Builders Beyond Borders” which is made of groups of high school students who travel to developing parts of the world during their Spring Break and help with construction for a week. In the case Mark, this Peace Corps volunteer I was helping, the project was installing or repairing pipe so more houses could have running water. There didn’t seem to be any shortage of help with forty-some high school students, plus their adult leaders, and several Peace Corps volunteers who showed up, not to mention a few people from the town who lent a helping hand.

Although I was prepared to dig, and did fill in for a couple of people on occasion, I ended up being the photographer for the week, for both the B3 (as it’s called among the group members and PCVs) and the Peace Corps. I still haven’t looked at all of the 1300+ photos I took over the course of that week, but I think some of them are among the best shots I’ve ever gotten so far. One of the adult supervisors for the B3 kids was himself a professional photography, who proved to be both a good source of advice and a good supporter when I had doubts about some of what I was doing. He reminded me that photography is an important way to get a message out there.

For me personally, it was a fun week because I got to see Mark’s site, which I thought was beautiful, even though it’s almost as different from where I live as it possible: My site is teeming with plants and the color green, and rains for months out of the year, whereas his is also mountainous, like mine, but a completely dry and dusty desert. I also got the impression the food was pretty good where he lived. At least twice I asked Mark and someone else who lived in the area if the food we got every day was pretty representative of the everyday food people got, and they said it was. If that’s true, then I can see why people are more fond of Peruvian food than I am.

At 7 AM One morning as I was finishing breakfast Patrick called me to tell me about a storm that struck the area where we live. He said my town was hit the hardest and went on to explain that the torrential rain someone knocked the water system offline, lightning had struck a tower and knocked out electricity in our towns, and a landslide finally cut off transportation a good distance from my town. He said in fact, that he had been walking since 2 AM and had yet to see a car that could give him a lift. I told him that I think God doesn’t want people living in the mountains, and Patrick said that apparently some people in the Peace Corps have more authority then God. I guess that’s as good as explanation as any.

After arriving back in Piura I packed up and prepared the hard walk back up to site. However, I got sick and after feeling faint after walking down four flights of stairs with my backpack and a heavy bag of supplies back to site, I decided that I was in no shape to walk back to site from where the landside struck. So I went back to bed and ended up sleeping another five hours. At noon I woke up dehydrated but after rallying the energy to go buy some liquids and a roll to eat I felt better. However, the bouts of dizziness and feverish brain shakes that stuck with me all day confirmed that staying at the hostel for another 24 hours was a wise decision.

The next day after more rest and some medicine I was finally able to leave. Much to my surprise and delight the landslide that Patrick had described was not stopping the truck from getting back to my site. However, we got stuck twice and for all the time it took to get the truck back on track I probably could have made back faster on foot. Still, I was happy to wait and not have to carry everything.

Patrick had told me that the water system and the electricity had been repaired. It’s true about the water system, although right now for another reason the water is off again and the only person who has the key to open the box to fix it is out of town. The electricity, however, is spottier than a leopard. In some houses in La Rinconada it’s strong, but in others, including where I live, it flickers on and off. I try to avoid using my computer at moments when it’s flickering, and I think it’s already ruined my less-than-year-old computer battery, which irritated me until I remembered that I’m not the first person to lose something valuable through circumstance in the Peace Corps.

Today I finished the book “Three Cups of Tea” about a fellow named Greg Mortenson who has been building schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan for children for over a decade. His love and dedication to his work humbled me as a volunteer. I know that could never come close to achieving something like that. But the other thing is I’m not sure if that’s what I want to do with my life. In fact, I’m almost positive it’s not. Right after I finished that book, I picked up “The Soloist” and read about people who have started up shelters for the mentally ill. Again I felt guilty that I don’t have a real service-work drive in me. It’s something I’ve struggled with a lot in the Peace Corps. I hadn’t done much service work to begin before joining, and it hasn’t felt like my calling in the time since I’ve sworn in as a volunteer. This has been very hard for me to understand and come to terms with. I haven’t felt like I’ve worked hard enough, but lots of times I don’t feel the motivation either. People have said time and again that for your service, do what you are passionate about, but I don’t know if I can do what I’m passionate about through my work in the Peace Corps. I’m not passionate about teaching or health or construction, although I’ve helped with all of that so far in the Peace Corps.

At the same time, I feel nervous about where I’m going next: into the unknown. I know I won’t be doing a third year because I feel that two will be plenty for me, but I’m not planning on going to grad school yet because the only thing I thought I might want to follow up on in grad school, linguistics, I’ve decided not to worry about because it’s not that route I want to take.

When I think rationally, I know I’m still helping people, and that just because I have no big projects planned, that’s fine. I think my personality and interests about what I want out of life are fine, if perhaps a bit unconventional. But I’ve had a hard time squaring that with what I’ve feel like someone in the Peace Corps should do. I’m trying not to waste any more energy worry about that, but it’s hard to do sometimes.

Tristan

Sorry For the Delay

2010-03-11T08:19:00.001-08:00

Originally Written March 10, 2010

Dear Readers,

I apologize for the delay in writing. If anyone was wondering, I am fine and in good health. I’ve back and forth between site and Piura a lot this past month or so and that hasn’t made it easy for me to write, since I don’t like writing while I’m in Piura. But no excuses.

However, I have been busy. I’ve been learning quite a bit about myself and in the ways I am productive in life. A lot of it has been and continues to be a surprise. However, I’ll have to save that for another post perhaps, because this is a long story about getting back to site.

A few weeks ago I ended spending a personal record of eight days straight in Piura. This wasn’t my intention. I was planning on going back on day four after having rested and running various errands I needed to run. I was also there for the purpose of getting sunlight. Being in the rain, mud, and grey clouds was bothering me and I decided I’d had enough of it. However, I had to stay one more day because I decided to check to see if I could find computer monitors for my library project. A man who sells computer monitors had some available and I agreed to meet him the following day. Computer monitors purchased and left with another local volunteer for safe keeping until my library is ready, I set off for site the following day.

I left that morning at eight and I found a seat on the one truck heading back and settled in for the trip back. However, it was not to be. The truck left Morropón and continued onwards a piece until it suddenly broke down. Fortunately we were not yet out of cell phone range (close, though) and the driver called for a mechanic. We ended up sitting around for a couple of hours until it was decided that no one was coming. Since I was closer to Morropón, and thus closer to Piura, I set off back to the city on foot, planning to catch a ride with which ever vehicle going that direction I found first. After around twenty minutes of walking, I found a Telmex truck in a tiny caserio (rural village) with two cable men. I asked them if they were headed to Morropón and if so, could I catch a ride. They said yes to both question, but told me they were finishing their rounds. I asked them how long they thought it would be and the said maybe twenty minutes’ work in another village. Sounded fine to me. Besides, it’s not as if I had my choice of vehicles.

The two men drove over to a caserio named Casa Blanca (white house) to either install or repair a satellite dish. While one of the looked for the house, I waited with the older of the two cable men and listened as he told me stories about places in Peru, particularly of Cuzco, where he was from. He said if I haven’t seen Machu Picchu (which I haven’t yet) I’m not allowed to die. Eventually he got tired of waiting and we drove over to see what was taking so long. All this time people thought I was also a Telmex cable man and a couple asked me questions about service and bills or something like that. It was a strange feeling for me.

While the two men worked in this house that had a store with it, some of the men sitting outside of it treated me to a few beers and a Pepsi and wanted to ask me questions about the United States, about why Peruvian food was all natural and healthier (it probably is all natural, but a balanced diet is an unfamiliar concept) and wanted me to translate crude words out of English for them. By the time the cable men finished it was getting dark and I couldn’t read my books I had brought with me. The older man put in some Michael Jackson songs and asked me if I was sad Michael had passed away. Although I don’t like hearing about anyone’s death, I wasn’t too crushed by Michael’s because I never listened to any of his music. But I said yes anyways because I didn’t want to disagree with the guy. They agreed to take me all the way to Piura itself, since they were headed that way, and refused payment when I brought the topic up. It was seven in the evening by the time I got back, but I still thought it was a fairly decent day. I got to see some beautiful landscapes, was both in good health and good spirits, and everyone I met was very friendly. It’s true I would have enjoyed spending time in Piura, had I known, but I would have spent most of it on the computer anyways. Not that I think that’s bad.

I decided to sleep in the next day because I was tired from spending all day driving to caserios. Also I wanted to give the driver a day to get his truck fixed. That night I dreamt a stray dog was attacking me while I was sitting. I swung my elbow at it with all my might but missed. I did not, however, miss the cement wall I was sleeping next to. The jolt of pain woke me up. After realizing what had happened and feeling kind of stupid, I decided I wished someone had been watching because it would have been great to get an outsiders version of what they had seen so they could describe it back to me. My elbow was sore for several days afterwards. Other than that, nothing happened worth writing about. I went and saw the remake of the movie “The Wolfman” but it sucked.

The morning I was to leave again I woke up sick and nauseous. By the time I felt better I was leaving much later than I had planned, and the people in Morropón told me conflicting stories about the truck. Some said it had left and wouldn’t come back, others said it hadn’t come yet. It turns out the latter was true, and had I waited I could have gone back to site. But I didn’t feel like taking that chance and spending another day in Bajo Piura Limbo, so I headed back to Piura and waited another day.

By this time even I was tired of the city. Despite how much I’ve come to appreciate good food, hot water, internet, and a toilet that flushes, I was also missing my routine at site and my own bed where I could rest. I was also tired of spending the money that restaurants and the hostel was costing me. I wasn’t complaining about it, but I simply needed decompression time.

I made sure to leave early enough to catch the truck and made it back up to site with no further incident. A few days after I got there I was able to continue on with some art classes and building the latrine for my host family with Teofilo’s help.

And there you have it. A few days in the life of a PCV.

Tristan

Editing and Translating

2010-02-03T08:46:00.000-08:00

Originally Written February 1, 2010

Dear Readers,

After I post this, I’ll be heading to help out with a project called ALMA (Actividades de Liderazgo para Mujeres Adolescentes – Leadership Activities for Adolescent Women) a three day camp that the Peace Corps does (there’s also one for young men called VALOR that we put together later in the year). All of the attendees are people from the volunteers’ towns. I was unable to bring anyone, but it’s just as well because at least I’ll be freed up to help other people with whatever tasks they need help with. It’s also easier since the Volunteers designated me as the photographer for the three days, which I’m happy about.

These past days I have been tired a lot. I’m sure the weather plays a role: it hasn’t been raining nearly as hard as I thought it would by this time, which I’m grateful for, but it has been overcast, which affects me. I recently acquired a key to start up art classes again, not in the primary school as I prefer, but instead in the secondary school. So that will start when I get back to site. However, since work at my site is generally slow, I’ve been keeping myself occupied with personal activities in my downtime. I’m learning French, and having worked my way through a course book, and preparing to go over it again to translate examples, I have now taken it upon myself to read some Verne in the original; but to help me focus on the language, I’m adding a twist: not only am I reading it, but I am also doing a translation of the whole novel as I go along. Not a delicate translation where I focus a lot on the English, but a crude, rough one to help me focus more on the French. For the past decade or more I have put so much work into finding the right learning method for me that it almost has felt like a family or a full-time job (I didn’t have much time to pursue languages in college, but they were still on my mind constantly and I dabbled when I could). So far I have found: I need grammatical instruction: learning by immersion alone doesn’t work, and using methods that focus on language examples alone don’t work for me…It’s actually too boring. There is a school of thought among many learners that you should not put so much effort on grammar as you do on examples, but for me I need the grammar. It’s fun, but building models or playing with Legos. There is bare and beautiful structure for my mind to grasp.

I’ve also spent a lot of time editing another lexicon, which I have spent a large portion of my time on every day, and at the end of my day I actually am quite tired because I do pour my heart and soul into these works. This is an expected surprise from my experience: I thought I’d be more among the people in my town, but I have to face a fact about myself: I do much better when I spend most of my time alone. Not all of my time, mind you, I’m not a complete hermit at all. But when I look back at some of my favorite jobs, I was by myself, whether it was mowing the lot by my aunt and uncle’s furniture warehouse, or shampooing the carpets or nearly all of residential rooms and lobbies on my college campus, or even digging the garbage pit for my host family, a straight-forward task where I am working alone is where I’ve been happiest. Even when I was younger it was like that: I always seemed to be inclined to be by myself, sitting on the swing set, reading, playing on the computer. I had a few friends back then, and I was very happy to spend time with them, play games, go to the lake, go to the movies, and so on, but even more than that I kept my own council.

But sometimes I felt very suspicious of being a party of one. My parents have always been very supportive of me, but would question me from time to time why I didn’t want to go to sporting events or even had an interest in sports. I did participate in Cross Country, which I loved, and Track, which I abhorred, and intramurals (which I did through high school and college) which I enjoyed for the light-heartedness of it, but beyond that I couldn’t answer. For what it’s worth, those are answers, I’ve come to learn. I’ve also come to learn this: there was never any reason to doubt myself for feeling inclined to spend more time alone than what I think is average. It wasn’t out of a dislike of people. Indeed, I love the company of others. But when focusing on those around me, or on tons of stimuli, such as at a party, or in a loud setting, it’s hard for me to draw on my energy from within. Even when I am in such environments, I go right back into my imagination anyways, otherwise I’d exhaust myself much more quickly.

So to my fellow, and fellow-ine, introverts, be your (inner) self! Take heart (from within!) and know that it’s OK, in case you ever doubt it, as I have for so long. I have felt more confident about myself than I ever have before, by believing, finally, that I am acting the way that is true to me. And just because you work alone doesn’t mean you don’t work hard. Even though at the moment I’m working mostly off of my computer, and it’s very fun, it’s still very taxing at the end of the day.

I also am considering a career in becoming a translator, after Peace Corps. That’s another reason I want to do the translation of the book I’m reading. While I was a senior in college, I translated my senior thesis into German, and that project sucked. God, I hated it. Thankfully, translators don’t go into foreign languages, only into their native languages, rather. Yet, because of the above experience and similar ones like it, I’m still very reluctant to say that’s what I want to do, but I have time to decide. At this point it’s still only a mere idea. But one that I am beginning to look at more in-depth.

There are some advantages. For many years I wanted a job that would let me travel so I could be free to live where I wanted. I am reading a book about the Foreign Service, which would allow that, but quite honestly, some of it sounds a lot like the Peace Corps and I think that when I’m done with my service in November, I’m done with this kind of work. I don’t think the FS is devoted to development work (I haven’t researched what kind of work they do; this book is aspects of the life, not the work), but I don’t know how much time I want to spend in the developing parts of the world. I do know however that it’s probably going to be very little time. I think this work is valuable and can be very fulfilling personally, but it requires a lot of stamina and frankly I’m getting tired. I can recount a variety of excuses – many of which I feel are valid – such as the difficulty of working outside of a clearer structure where encouraging results are more easily seen, but it would be beside the point. Living in a small community where I am not even guaranteed a bottle of delicious refreshing Coke, and where a hot shower is completely out of the question is OK. I can do that. I can do a lot more than that. I’m willing to make those sacrifices. But I just don’t want to make them for the rest of my life. I’m so thankful for this experience, I’ve grown so much and yes, I’ve enjoyed it…usually. And to prospective volunteers, reading this, I encourage you to go on and give it a shot if you think it might be for you. But also, I’m glad it’s for two years.

And look, I’ve gotten completely off track. I was going to talk about the advantages. Well, that’s how my mind wanders, and it’s my blog, ain’t it? ;-) While being a translator is no doubt a taxing job, for me the advantages would be working a lot on my own, which I really enjoy, and also if I want to travel, I can do so. I don’t have to rely on my job to send me somewhere where my job lets me travel; I can have a job that *lets* me travel. I suppose if I wanted, I could translate a text from my parents’ kitchen in Nebraska, to my own place that I’ll someday own, God-willing in Europe or maybe on a coast (if I could just add Midwest American thunderstorms, it would be perfect). I love writing, and I am very much surprised how much office-ish work appeals to me now. I thought I’d live an Indiana Jones type of existence, which I still want to up to a point, but now I think I need to balance that off with serious doses of movie theatres and bubble baths with water so hot your skin practically drops off of you in fleshy clumps when you emerge again. It’s about finding a happy medium.

But as I tried to point out earlier, I’m finding more and more, it’s about being happy with yourself. I think sometimes we all needed to be reminded of that.

Tristan

Webs

2010-01-24T20:34:00.001-08:00

Originally Written January 20, 2010

Dear Readers,

To set the stage where I am writing from: It’s ten minutes past midnight and since my DVD-Rom is breaking down, I watched a few podcasts, mostly TEDTalks, for any of you fans out there.

But there are a few things that I wanted to express in words. I can feel the wave moving away from me, or however I can describe the feeling that moves me to write, but I’ll do my best to pin down what I wanted to say. After listening to some the podcasts on education and technology and the environment and the other things that the speakers at TED presented, I listened to a talk that

I am currently probably the only person in my village who is awake right now. The rest of them have gone off to sleep, and after I finish writing this, I’ll myself be turning in. But elsewhere in the world people will be getting up. Some of them, over in Europe as it were, will be some friends who I love. And it’s like that all over this planet. People are constantly rising or going to bed, or going to work, or making lunch, or walking in a park, or on a boat, or an endless number of possibilities. The point I’m trying to make is that it’s like we are one giant organism: each one of us doing our own thing but part of a bigger whole.

The Bible refers to this as the Body of Christ. I’m not sure what other faiths or philosophies refer to it as, I’m afraid, but I don’t believe this is a Christian idea. I don’t think the idea of oneness is really a religious idea at all. We are linked even through the environment, in the ecosystem, and believe, although I don’t know how to illustrate it, through many deeper levels as well, probably levels that most of us aren’t consciously aware of.

Anyways, I think the idea of separateness is harmful because it creates a Me vs. You, Us vs. Them system. I’m not suggesting that we should all just run off to communes; societies serve practical purposes through distinct groups, clubs, nations, and of course families. People are joined, or excluded, through language, religion, common ideas, and so forth. I believe in individualism and in thinking for one’s self. But I think it’s prudent to remember that many of these differences are superficial. Deep down we all share a link to a common spirit of sorts. Something that makes us feel concern or empathy for other people, or even animals and plants, as the case may be, for people across the globe, across cultures. Some would say that caring for others is the moral thing to do, or that we can’t understand how someone or something feels and we are projecting our feelings. And both perspectives are valid. But why then the capability to feel?

Well, I feel a connection to this next part of the blog with the first part, but let’s see if I can show the connection in words. Usually when I write answers I’m looking for bubble to the surface of the page from I don’t know where. It’s funny that way.

I got a message from a dear friend of mine a couple of weeks ago. She was fairly vague in parts of it, but said she had decided to make a change in her life to embody positivity. I was proud of her, and it also inspired me to try to do the same thing. I’m a quarter of a century old. Much of that time has been lost from anxiety and depression at points in my life. Many of you can probably relate your own struggles to this, as well. Peace Corps has also been a very hard thing for me. It’s provoked a lot of negative and frustrated feelings, a lot of complaining and self-pitying and self-doubt. All of which is good, of course, because right on the heels of those feelings room to mature has opened up for me.

In my struggles in life I’ve learned a lesson that I’ve said everyone should learn. So I’m going to write this lesson down for all to read:

Your thoughts only have as much power as you give them.

This does not mean you can control your thoughts. But you can control what you indulge in. And if you can’t control them, start small, practice, and eventually you will, to a large degree anyways. Here’s the deal: Life isn’t going to be easier or more fun, it’s just going to be the way it was. What changes is your perception about it. When your perception changes – hopefully for the better – your attitude and actions improve as well. For example: I can be depressed about lack of things going on here and how the rain is such a downer and so forth. Or I can just accept it and then see what I can do about it. About the rain, that’s easy. I can’t change the weather. And many things in our life are “weather.” Many things in life we have precious little control over. About the lack of things to do: That depends on the individual. Either you then decide to find things to do, make ways to keep yourself busy, or adopt a different attitude about how life is where you are. In my case, I have been frustrated of the super-slow progress of the town library. It’s taken me a year to accept that things just happen at their own pace here. That doesn’t mean I give up. I’ll still have to help keep them on task, but understanding that life unfolds in its own way is helpful when dealing with challenging situations.

It’s a humbling lesson I’ve learned, and sometimes I have to relearn it. But relearning isn’t so bad because with time it becomes more second nature. When I have a negative, depressing or angry thought, I’m learning to ignore it, if it’s appropriate. Sometimes those feelings are telling important messages, but usually they are unproductive. If they are, I acknowledge they are there, and then tune them out, like a TV commercial. Or I try to anyways. Often I still feel like I’m in Don’t Take Life So Seriously 101.

I hope this helps. I hope it makes sense. If you don’t see the connection between the two parts of this entry, don’t worry about it. Basically what I’m saying is, it seems to me we are more tied related to everything than not, like we are all branches of the same tree, and that our thoughts flow over us like rain, but with practice we can choose what we let soak into the wood of that tree.

That’s what I believe. It’s made sense in my life.

One more thing: I want to put up a map or something to have readers pin-point where they are reading from. But until I can do that, or if I can do that, please respond so I can see what parts of the world my blog is reaching. This is going to be a standing request, and if you answer once, you don’t have to answer again. Some have answered already, and I really think that’s cool. It goes well with this interconnection theme I was talking about. Thank you for playing along!

Tschüss,
Tristan

The Great Indoors

2010-01-13T10:21:00.000-08:00

Originally Written January 7, 2010

Dear Readers,

I’m finally breaking blog silence again as I settle down with my bottle of Coke and sunflower seeds to write out my thoughts. For the holidays I traveled home. This was the first time I’d ever “visited” America, as a matter of fact, as strange as that sounds. But as I think I said in my previous entry, whenever I’ve been out of the country, I’ve never come home until my trip was over.

It was great being home, although for the first day or two it didn’t seem real. It would be like, “Oh, that’s my backyard. That’s my backyard. I wonder if that’s my backyard.” For the most part I think that wore off. My dog got fat. That was kind of disappointing. But he still has his zest for life, and going for walks, and now loves cheese, something that I wasn’t aware of beforehand. He now understands three words of language (not including his name): walk, cheese, and Milkbone.

Other than spending time with my family, I didn’t do much. And that turned out to be better than I thought it would. I had been planning to go see some friends as well as my cousin on the other side of the state, but the weather in their area was unconducive to visitors. So I spent New Years with my estranged pal Sam Adams and watched TV while playing a computer game during the commercial breaks.

Being in my parents’ home made me feel like I was walking in luxury. Of course I enjoy comfort but I’ve never really been overly interested in materials (besides books and DVDs), yet when I saw the decorative stuff that is commonplace in many American homes, such as glass bowls filled with marbles plastic plant decorations, such as a Christmas wreath, or some of the decorative lamps or bronze figures my parents have collected over the years, I felt a bit like I was visiting a castle. Decorating has never been among my natural set of skills. Right now the only things I have on my walls are a calendar and a map of where the Peace Corps has been. And it’s not a very good map either (no capitols, no geographical information, just very straight forward colored in countries). But even in my bedroom in America the only thing I have on my walls are full-sized flags from Mexico and Germany. I like things simple.

I took nice hot baths, had iced tea (I honestly had forgotten how good it tasted, and that’s the right hand of God truth). I saw “Avatar” in 3-D and got nice hot buttery popcorn that you can’t get in Peru. I had forgotten how fast the internet was. And I had some good heart to heart talks with my parents.

But here’s the kicker. I was looking forward to coming back to Peru. It didn’t surprise me really, but it did relieve me a bit. Things here have been tough, but my routine is here, a lot of my friends are here somewhere, and even though I’ve talked about how I wish there were more infrastructure in my town, I have a better idea what I’m supposed to do. I still am not sure what I’ll do afterwards, but I guess I’ll think of something.

So after a nice couple of weeks in the good ol’ – albeit below to slightly above freezing – US of A I found myself on a plane back to Peru. For my first flight I had my iPod and e-reader in hand, charged and ready to entertain their new master, but as it turned out I talked to another traveler of the world, a young woman from Colorado who spent a few years doing marine biology work off a sailboat. For the entire duration of the flight we talked about where we had been, the kind of work we had done or what we had studied, and coping with similar things like the isolation that comes with being either on a boat in a rural village.

For my next flight I just watched movies and drank Coke.

Piura is hot and humid and I had forgotten to pack the shorts I had brought home. But still I survived and fought off hordes of taxi drivers outside the bus station and walked to my hostel where I stayed before heading back to site where I am now. Orfelinda isn’t around, it turns out. She and Peter are in Lima because she had to have a doctor from there examine her foot that’s been hurting her for a month or two. So it’s just Neysar at home. He told me he’d been home alone since December 18. I asked him what he did for Christmas and he told me he killed and cooked a hen. I asked him if he was sad to spend Christmas without his brother or mom, and he said, partly yes. But then he added that he was also partly happy because he got to have a whole hen to himself, and I can’t blame him for that. Peruvian chicken kicks butt and I don’t even like chicken that much.

My room smelled pretty musty, which I had been expecting; sealed adobe homes tend to give off an earthy odor. Nevertheless I was surprised to see so much dirty on the floor since I had cleaned right before I left. I decided to clean before unpacking. I discovered a plethora of flying insects, from little moths to beetles in my room. That didn’t surprise me. The dead bat under my bed did. I like bats, even though they can carry diseases. It’s too bad it didn’t stay alive in my room and eat all the flying bugs before it croaked. Right now there’s a cricket chirping under my bed and I’m rolling thoughts around in my head about how I’m going to liberate it from my room. This morning at noon when I woke up I saw insects clinging to the outside of my mosquito net and a big spider on my door that I whacked with my sandal. The Great Indoors indeed.

The rainy season has begun, but so far I haven’t seen much rain. To take advantage of the fact, I went jogging.

Ah yes, I made no New Year’s resolutions, in case anyone is curious. The only resolutions I can specifically remember is something like try to learn four languages or something this year. I figured the time limit would help me get my kiester in gear but it never did.

But I have made some life goals, especially after reading an email from a dear friend of mine who told me she was making some major life changes for the better: A more positive outlook. To be more conscious and present. To remember that negativity has no place in my life. Even if I don’t like to eat rice all the time. I’ve heard that if you stop fighting the flow of life, you become still and more at one with the Peace of Everything, because you are part of the Everything. Since I heard that and have kept that in mind, I have seen that I’m generally more positive, more still of mind, and I haven’t felt any real depression to speak of for the first time in years. So I’m curious to see how much further I can develop myself, and perhaps even help others.

Cheers all!

Tristan

PS- Out of curiosity, I want to know where those who read my blog live. I know some of my family and friends read my blog, but I've been curious if anyone from around the USA or from any other country read. If you are one of them, please leave me a reply saying where you are from. You don't have to be specific if you don't want, but I just want to see what parts of the world are reading my messages. Thanks!

Yay, Finally Another Post!

2009-12-18T08:26:00.000-08:00

Originally Written December 15, 2009
Dear Readers,

The month of November was busy with travel since it was Thanksgiving as well as our midservice point, which meant we all had to go get medical check ups in Lima. And now more travel is coming up, since I’ll be heading home for Christmas to see my family and friends for a couple of weeks. This will mark the longest I’ve ever been outside of the United States: fifteen months at one hit. Previously, this record was held by my 11-month exchange trip in Mexico. After a year of being in site, I’ve finally settled down about in my adjustment. This past week at site my spirits have been high, despite a few days of no electricity, illness, and a latrine project that is quite behind the schedule I had envisioned for it. I imagine that I feel more at rest because, for one thing I’m looking forward to being home, and eating pizza, and drinking awesome beer, drooling over all of my books and dictionaries and grammars I couldn’t bring with me, and taking baths, and of course seeing my family and friends and my dog. But the other reason I’m at peace right now is because I’ve finally gotten used to the pace of life here, and the fact that people do things on their own time. For example, I asked Teofilo to help me pour the cement for my latrine, which he agreed to, although it took him about four days to get around to it. It’s something you just have to take and roll with.

Other than work related materials, I’ve been considering learning Dutch so that I can go visit Suriname after my service is over. From what I’ve been able to read about Suriname, it’s a polyglot country with several different official languages. I’ve been staying up researching several different language profiles from Wikipedia articles I’ve copied into my computer.

I’ve also been watching lots of movies that I’ve never seen but have meant to for a long time. Movies like “Face/Off”, “Broken Arrow”, and “Phenomenon”. I don’t know why the first ones I watched all happened to be John Travolta movies since I’ve never really been a fan of him, but after my unintentional Travolta binge, I’ve concluded that I may have under-appreciated him.

Backtracking a little, Thanksgiving vacation in Ica included riding a dune buggy to the middle of some sand dunes to go sand boarding down them. I’ve barely skied, and have never snow-boarded, so barely had a clue what I was doing and ended up riding down on my stomach instead, which helped me get more speed. Interestingly, even when you are on your stomach you can still lose your balance and get flung down the face of a sand dune. Even today, eighteen days after the wipeout, when I lift my right arm I can still feel where I rolled over it several times, where I was left with sand in my eyes, ears, mouth and nose, stunned from the crash and due to the fact I didn’t break anything, not even Lim-Ed sunglasses, which flew off but somehow were lying next to me unharmed in the sand.

I met a lot of the new WatSan volunteers who seem like a cool bunch. One of them drank a mite much and prodded me all evening to say something offensive.
Med-Checks also went well. Especially so since Dr. Jorge told me I was in excellent health. A couple of friends and I went to a sports bar where they showed American football, and even I felt a little homesick from sports, something I usually try to avoid.

There is one thing I’ve thought about recently, and this is probably the only bit of philosophy I’ll write this evening, but after the comforts of Lima (and its expenses) and the rougher-edged living at site, I want to comment about the idea of materialism. Personally, I find that when I have a lot of things, I feel cluttered even in my soul. But I think there is nothing wrong with comforts in life. It’s a fact that most people probably don’t need a huge house or a fancy car or an iPhone or even hot water. But I guess if it helps improve the quality of your life, there isn’t anything wrong with it. Little things have helped here: a blanket to through on the ground to simulate carpet, a hot water boiler for tea and hot chocolate, and even really week cell phone service to make me feel a little less isolated. I don’t think I person needs to live a Spartan existence to grow or find enlightenment or whatever the goal is. I think too much “stuff” isn’t necessarily healthy, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being comfortable either.

On the other hand, there isn’t anything wrong to see what you can go without, either. Both are helpful when used prudently.

Alright, that’s about all I have for tonight. The next time I write, I’ll probably be on another continent. Have a Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays to all!

Till then!
Tristan

An Eternal and Endless Ocean

2009-12-01T22:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Readers,

I apologize for my absence from writing. It has been a hectic month, this past November. There were a lot of people who were leaving, and family developments, and Thanksgiving traveling and things like that. Currently I’m in Lima for mid-service medchecks.

I’m going to see if I can keep this short since it’s late right now. I was just down looking at the ocean from a place called Larco Mar, which is an outdoor food and shopping mart, and I wanted to briefly write about some of what I reflected on out there. It was around 11 PM and the see was all dark and there was dark clouds stretching off to where the water and the clouds met. It just made me feel calm. I’ve been feeling swarms of doubts and negativity tugging at my insecurities, infecting me with their pollution and deceits. Yet tonight when I looked at the water there was a peace of things just being still, and that’s what I believe is in all of us. Often we can feel like we are caught in a storm, and that is perhaps very well the case. I think though that many of us (and definitely in my case) it’s easy to forget that storms don’t reach down to the depths. Even the worst ones can still be storms on the surface of our lives. This is not to downplay serious challenges or problems that people have to face from time to time: illness, family emergencies or crises, financial problems, and so forth. If there are problems, of course they should be dealt with if it’s possible. But they need not consume us of all our energy. We don’t have to dwell only on the surface of our life, when there is so much more underneath. Often things aren’t as major as we make them out to be. A comment or an action from someone that triggers insecurities or doubts may have been nothing at all: when you are on the surface of the ocean, waves can appear and feel huge and devastating. But in the whole of the sea, they are usually not much to get worked up about.

Most of this I say because I’ve found that in interacting with other people, I usually cannot tell how they feel, and reach the wrong conclusions. But sometimes you just have to let things wash over you, and not stop and analyze them.
I’ll have more to say next time, but right now I’m tired and off to bed.

Peace,
Tristan

A Meditation on Frustrations

2009-10-30T06:18:00.000-07:00

Originally Written October 29, 2009

Dear Readers,

I’ve been trying to write something to this effect for a while, but have had a hard time forming it. However, while writing an email, a lot of thoughts came to me, and I’d like to share them.

For starters, right now I’m rather irritated, to be honest. Peace Corps isn’t a vacation, and I never thought it would be. In fact, despite talking to recruiters, reading about it, going to the website, I never really had a good idea what Peace Corps ultimately did. And actually, in some ways I like of still don’t. Peace Corps seems to be life condensed: there are just so many ways to interpret it. And you can have so many plans that seem to give meaning to it, only to have something fuck it to bits. So where is the meaning? Did you just get screwed out of it? Or do we place assign meaning too often to the wrong things? Don’t read the rest of this expecting answers. But I do think that we are putting life in a box too often when that’s kind of like trying to put sunshine in a box. It fills the box, but it also fills everything else outside of the box. The minute we put it in a box and seal it, it might not become the opposite of life the way darkness becomes the opposite of light, but it still isn’t the real thing. It’s just a misapplied label, this boxed definition. Quite honestly, I don’t really any longer expect all that much to get done in my town. I’ll go more into this later, but I think by just accepting where I am, both in life and geographically-speaking, would be much to my benefit. And I suspect this might be a good philosophy for me to follow through with for the rest of my blinking days. More than materialism, or finding the right woman, or getting the perfect job, a lot of stress would probably be alleviated if people just take things one thing at a time, one day at a time, one moment at a time. For me that means, I have a library going, but since the people here work at their own pace, I need not necessarily be concerned and have an ulcer over my project right now.

That’s the good thing is coming out of this irritation and out of this service in general: just simple acceptance. I’m with a group that’s taking all the time I had planned for an English class or clean my room or whatever. So what? I get boiled potatoes for breakfast, a similar meal for lunch, and something else bland for dinner. Why fight it? I’m just getting too tired to fight it any longer.

I’m also losing interest in trying to get much done here, frankly. If I only give kids the chance to draw and do jigsaw puzzles, I’ll count that as a success. I don’t always enjoy it frankly, and it’s teaching me that I don’t think I want to be a parent, but it’s helping them be kids and use their brains and play with others. The people in this town have a good work ethic, but it doesn’t extend beyond their immediate survival. Of course that’s very important, but when trying to do a big project, such as a library, it’s hard to impress upon the town why they must all contribute to supplies so we can put in the cement floor. And so, things take forever. Add that to the vagueness of how long things will take, or when they will start, or other such predictions, and it just drains a person. I can feel myself losing motivation in my work, and even when I look at my French studies or painting, it is hard to get the motivation back up. This isn’t all the town’s fault of course, but the attitude of getting nothing done in a timely manner is rubbing off on me.
I’ve figured I can take only about a week or so of time in site before I decide I need to get out again. I usually try to go about two weeks (rounding up) before I head back out to my capital city to get good food and a hot shower and a use the internet to call home and read my email.

So now, riding out this frustration, I just want to give up my resistance and say, “Hell, here I am, and something might get done, and something might not. I’m just gonna chill try to enjoy life today.” That’s not an easy philosophy, but it is an important one. Do I believe it? Maybe not completely. I want to, but it’s so radically different from how I’ve been raised in my environment. But I guess this is where I get to take responsibility for my life, even if I never really have control over it.
Most of what the Peace Corps offers I’m not sure I care about. At least not in terms of work. I enjoy more spending time just talking with the people, even though after a while I do need deep, witty, more educated conversation.

Before, I saw myself as a linguist, an anthropologist, an Indiana Jones figure, but those self-images have kind of been shaken as I realize how hard it has been to adapt to a much more basic style of living. This journey has made me look at myself in such a way that I feel I have a lot of metaphorical fleas or tumors and I feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I can’t pin down the problems, because there are simply too many flaws. I think the best method maybe to just acknowledge there are flaws, and then turn my attention away from them. They will continue to be there perhaps, but I don’t have to watch over them like a prison guard. Maybe our flaws are like the class clown: they intensify only when they have an audience.

I don’t want to go home, to ET to use the Peace Corps lingo. For one thing, I’m too damn proud. But for another, I always try to believe that I don’t have the bigger picture, and that things will get better. Also I have learned a lot. Mostly about myself, but since I will be living with myself for quite a while hopefully, that’s important. I just kinda want to be myself, though. Not be the flawed, impatient, insecure person I feel like a lot. Especially here.

There’s something I’ve learned. Improvement and love comes from within. You don’t always have to travel the world or try to leap tall buildings to find it. I heard that a lot of incoming volunteers want to be up here in the North rather than in the deserts of Lima-Ica. I did, too. The deserts weren’t how I pictured Latin America. But now that I’ve spent a year here, I believe that location is not the most critical factor. Everything that a person needs comes from within. Sometimes everything else in the world just happens to jive with you. I’m not saying people necessarily ought to settle, or that everything is equally easy or equally hard. But in the meantime, enjoy life wherever you are. I’ll be trying to take my own advice right along with anyone else who has been asking these same kinds of questions.
Tristan

Comfort Zones

2009-10-04T09:01:00.000-07:00

Originally Written October 1, 2009

Dear Readers,

Last night I wrote a little about the importance of passion in life and used languages as an example of passions in mine. But as much as languages consume in my life, it is not the only thing that plays a role in me. There is another big factor, a darker one. I’m afraid of a lot of things in life. Traveling around, seeking knowledge and familiarity of other things in the world have not alleviated my anxieties. That tells me two possibilities: either I am not doing what is right for me, or regardless of whether I am acting true to myself or not, fear is a bottomless feeder that vexes until its host’s life is withered away. Unlike a parasite that dies when its host dies, fear is not a living entity that worries about its survival, at least not in a biological sense. And fear has its paws deeply entrenched in humanity everywhere.

I spoke about how sometimes I worry about losing my passion for languages. But it will either happen or it won’t. I can make choices in life, but beyond that, control is out of my hands. And again, this applies to everything, not just my interest in languages. So again, I see a connection.

It’s very easy for me to stick with what I know. I’ve tried to shake that instinct by traveling around, but it’s a lesson that isn’t learned easily. I’ve tried to take risks and do daring things to help encourage growth and courage like joining the Peace Corps. But once in a new environment, that battle is not even half over yet. It’s not good enough that a person moves into a new country where things are sometimes backwards from what they knew beforehand. They have to be willing to go with the flow, as they say. My town, let’s admit, is unstimulating. It is beautiful here. But to my Western “developed nation” mentality, there is not a hell of a lot to do here. It layman’s terms, it’s boooooring. And that, dear readers, is kind of depressing. Mix it with traditions and customs that even after a year, if they don’t seem bizarre, they at least still don’t feel natural, and you’ve got yourself a recipe for feeling a long ways from home.

Let me give an example to help me clarify. Rinconada is celebrating its town festival. It’s a two-day party with drinking, music, a band, groups performing separate acts, costumes, stands of food, Peruvian moonshine, and of course tons of rice. A couple of weeks after that Silahua will be having their big party. Patrick and I have been asked to participate in both. In fact, it was more or less assumed we’d act in the party anyways.

There’s a good side to this. I’ve been accepted as a local community member. So much so that I’ve been asked to help participate in a dance or skit or something. Sure, people still stare at me when I walk down the road, but beyond that, I think I’ve been accepted.

But then fear comes in and tells me I don’t want to participate because it’s new and different. You might think you can get used to new and different things. And maybe you can. I don’t yet know the difference. It’s easy to *pretend* that you are well-adjusted and wise, especially when talking to a nervous brand-new volunteer (employee, international student, etc) but I think that we all still have our insecurities.

As I’ve stated before, I don’t like dancing. But if I’m going to dance, I like good music to dance to. Well, if you are in Peru, you are pretty much expected to dance, and the concept of someone who doesn’t like to dance seems about as unimaginable to the Peruvians as a talking can of peas. And as far as the music in my town goes… Well, let’s just say it’s not what I think about when I think about dancing. It’s easy to say, “That’s not for me, that’s not my thing, I want to do something I like.” And lots of times that might be right. I can say that about going to law school or med school, or being in a band, or reading Shakespeare, or hiking for weeks straight in the dark oppressive undergrounds with a team of geologists. Valuable yes, but not for me, not something I want to do.

That doesn’t really apply to participating in a town festival though. So what if a person doesn’t like dancing or the music. There are lots of things here that I am not interested in, or at least I don’t think I’m interested in. For example I don’t think I’ll ever need to learn how to be a farmer here, or how to plant banana trees. But what I’m trying to say is that for all the limitations I find here that frustrate me, I’m starting to see that I can be pretty limited, too. It’s easy to miss what is right in front of you. It can be irritating to have no one to talk to about things that I want to talk about. When the majority of folks have very basic education and knowledge of the world and are only interested in their crops, cows, donkeys, and fields, that just doesn’t leave a lot to talk about. But why should I think that I really know more than they do, at least if you don’t measure life in terms of places seen or languages learned or books read? If the folks here “don’t know any different” but are still happy with the simple pleasures of just getting together at a local party, aren’t they in an important way still going along pretty well?

I guess I’m saying it’s fine to not dig dancing or the music or the food. Everyone’s got personal tastes. Probably nothing will ever make me like their music (Lord knows I’ve had plenty of chances to give it a good listening-to), but it’s not fine to say you want to learn about different cultures and then hide behind “but they have to fit into my comfort zones.” In life, maybe taking part is better than hiding from something behind an excuse. Even if it’s scary and new and in your heart of hearts you suspect you’ll probably never do it again. I guess for now that’s the best I can articulate what I’m thinking about.

Sincerely,

Tristan

Callings in Life

2009-10-04T08:58:00.000-07:00

Originally Written September 30, 2009

Dear Readers,

Sometimes it’s hard to know your calling in life. For me, I passion for languages. Just the act of acquainting myself with another language gives me a sense of joy that few other things do. It’s hard work, it takes a long time, and it can become painful or dull at times. But I love it. At the moment I’m learning French by working my way through a translation of “Angels and Demons” by Dan Brown and a French course to help me with the pronunciation. I’ve been seeking out resources for several languages recently, and look forward to seeing what else I’ll have the chance to learn in my life. Sometimes people ask me what I plan on doing with all the languages I learn. I suppose it might be foolish of me, but I don’t always think ahead of learning them. They give flavor to my life even if I am just getting to know the grammar and idiomatic uniqueness. I don’t know how many of them I’ll actually ever use in my life. Ideally, I’d love to use all of them, but I don’t know how. I don’t know if I will.

It seems to me that I’ve been given a gift with languages. I may have something of a talent for learning them, and I do believe in such a thing. But I think that the passion is more important, and the hard work you put into learning something is still more important. The love I feel for languages is the gift I’m referring to.
A few times in my life I’ve wondered if I’ll ever lose my passion for languages. I can remember three times in life, all of them thankfully relatively short-lived. Once was in Germany. I don’t recall exactly what happened, although I know wrote about it on my blog at the time. Eventually it passed, this lull. And then again when I had just graduated from college. I remember this more clearly. I was also trying to learn French, and I think the method and literature I was using were serious factors in wearing me out, because they just weren’t interesting methods for me to learn with. I ended up taking the summer off from study, rebooting my interest and instead flirting with a Navajo dictionary and course book, without making any real attempt to absorb new words. Even in that phase though I started to theorize different methods I could use to learn.

And then a couple of weeks ago marks the most recent downtime. My interest mostly all back at the time of writing, if it was ever gone. But it bothers me every time this feeling rolls around. As if I might grow out of something. It’s not like growing out of playing with toy cars or a type of music, though. A passion isn’t just a phase. It’s a way of life. Lives of course can change. Relationships are always in change, in growth. I used to want to go into filmmaking. I had real dreams about that, and that changed for me into languages. I turned out fine. But this is something I don’t want to lose. I don’t know if I ever will, but the idea of it is so profoundly disturbing to me, to even think about it would make me wonder what I had left. If a person loses something they love, it’s not like just having your house burn down or your car stolen or something else that’s devastating. Both of those can be awful events in a person’s life, and I thankfully have not had to endure either of those. But when a person loses a passion, that must be like losing part of your soul. I’ve told people how I love to write. But it doesn’t compare to how I love the sounds and grammar and symbols of other languages. It helps fuel my imagination. I guess, though, what relationship doesn’t have its hard times, right?
It’s silly really, but I read about a Greek fellow who completely absorbs a different culture and through that he learns the language. He’s learned over thirty languages in his life, I believe. The silly part is that when I read about him, I started to question my own devotion to my hobby. He said that he found vocabulary and grammar boring. Instead he loved the culture. For me, the main thing I look about in a different culture *is* the language, and if I find their language enticing, I have much higher chances of wanting to learn about them more. And usually to see if there is some I can learn how to speak like them. And although I find highly technical grammar written in linguistic jargon nearly unreadable and vocabulary lists to sometimes be dry, I still love grammar and vocabulary. So in other words, I started to feel very self-conscious about what I look for in languages, and presto, lull number three in my life.

Frankly, I compare myself too much with other people. This is probably a common problem with people, though. Maybe we’d all feel reassured if we compared with each other how often we compare ourselves to one another, although since that almost never works, we might end up feeling more miserable. And that would suck, wouldn’t it? Maybe we ought to stop giving a damn about what other people think. I don’t advocate being self-absorbed jerks, but hopefully a person doesn’t need to be a jerk just to be themselves. It’s scary though because no one can really do it for you. You have to be you.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about these questions. About these questions with languages and how they tie into even bigger issues, more universally human issues, one could perhaps say. But I think finding a passion is a key move to being yourself. Maybe a passion is a calling, even if that calling isn’t a job. I don’t know what I am called to do in life. I figure I have such a love for languages, but I don’t know how to incorporate that. I don’t think teaching or linguistics is for me. I’m almost certain on that, actually. Nor am I sold on interpreting or translating, at least full time. But languages are about communicating with folks. I said that I get most of my joy out of learning a language, and constantly adding to it, the way I add details to pictures or added Lego models when I still played with Legos. But beyond that is communication. Maybe somehow that’s what my calling is.
Or maybe I’m wrong about it. Maybe it’s just supposed to be a wonderful hobby and I’m actually meant to be a fisherman off the coast of Canada. It was the first job that came to my mind. But even if I were in Canada, I’d still be looking for chances to use my French, not to mention look for grammars and dictionaries and texts for Ojibwa, Stoney, Inupiaq, Wampanoag, and other such colorful tongues…It’d be one of the foremost things on my mind.

Hope all is well.

Tristan

Some More Thoughts...

2009-09-18T11:13:00.000-07:00

Originally Written September 15, 2009

Dear Readers,

Yesterday the local pastor of the Protestant church engaged me in a conversation about religion. A note: in Spanish (and in German, but I don’t know what other languages) the word for “Protestant” is strikingly close to the English “Evangelical” even though it doesn’t exactly mean the same thing. In Peru there are Catholics and there are Protestants, translated as evangelicos. Whether Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses and other more specific groups are considered evangelicos or not is not clear to me, but from what I sense, they are distinct “religiones” although I am not sure if this means, in the view here, that they are different religions, or just different religious groups.

Anyways, I am really digressing. As I was saying, the local pastor engaged me in a discussion about God and the Bible as he believed it to be. He became interested in talking to me a few Sundays ago. Sitting with some men watching them swig a vile mixture of cañaso and milk while waiting around fix a broken water pipe with some fellows from my JASS, I saw a large group of people walking out of town down to the river. I asked the fellows I was sitting with what was going on and they told me and they told me a baptism in the river. I chewed that over, balancing the merits of fixing a pipe or watching a full-immersion baptism, something I’d never seen before, and decided to go to the river with the group and take pictures. On the way there the pastor spotted me, tapped me on the shoulder, gave me a limp handshake and asked me if I believed in God and what His name was, which, according to the pastor aptly named “Cristián”, is Jehovah.

Ever since then he has been braver about talking to me about religion. I have to admit, I’m not exactly sorry about it because it means something a little more philosophical to talk about than I get when I speak with most people in town. However, it’s also very conservative religious views, which I’ve heard before and personally don’t agree with. However, I let Cristián talk with me if he wants. He doesn’t do it too often, anyways.

I don’t agree with this fellow’s views for the most part, some of them for theological reasons, and some for humanistic reasons. I feel that a person’s belief system is a personal thing, and therefore I won’t go into mine here. I try not to be too specific in my discussions with the pastors, but sometimes his questions basically require answers that I can’t easily sidestep around. So far I haven’t minded it, though.

But on a broader view, not just in terms of religion, but in terms of what I believe and how I feel about various issues in the world, I find myself more confused than anything. I guess that’s part of life. That’s not to say I don’t have my own opinions, but I’ve found there are so many ways to live life that it’s probably better to keep your opinions to yourself 90% of the time. It’s not as if you are any more wrong or right than the next person. I’ve found it’s usually the case where wrong or right is not the issue so much as where a person is in their life. Or even how they are wired, so to speak. I used to think that the way a person acted had mostly to do with how they were brought up. Not to make this a blog about religion, but just as an example, some people just seem to have no desire to believe in a God of any kind. I used to not know what to make of it. Atheistic upbringing, religion is too stifling, choral music sucks, I didn’t know. I guess I still don’t actually. But then I look at myself. I was not raised by sports fanatics, but most people aren’t raised by religious fanatics. However, I was immersed in sports culture: most of my family enjoys sports; I was encouraged to play sports; my parents and most of my family is from Colorado, yet I was raised in rural Nebraska, so I got my pick of college teams. But despite all of the exposure and ample opportunities, not to mention the physical abilities (read: not talent) to play any of the sports I was around, I don’t give a flying flip about sports. In T-ball I would get bored in the outfield and sit down in the grass. It never really got any better for me. I enjoy running, and swimming as well if the water isn’t freezing, but I don’t really count those as sports. With the exception of a few fast paced games like badminton or dodge ball, I would conclude I am not wired for sports, much how some people are wired to be or not be something. I even consider myself a sports-agnostic, in that can accept that others find sports to be exciting, and believe in the possibility that they can be fun and exciting, but I have yet to see any proof that they are. If one were to look at what sports (rituals especially) and religion have in common, I think one would see they have a heck of a lot more in common than most folks realize.

What I’m trying to say today is not that based just in religion, nor in sports. What I am saying is that the more I try to live my life, the less clear it is where I am going, wires or cultural conditioning or not. Or sometimes it’s is that it is clearer, but it’s in a direction I don’t understand, which immediately muddies the waters again. I don’t really think though that life is about finding specific answers. Trying to get specific answers out of life is like reaching into a lake to hold the water in your hand. Sometimes you might catch a fish, but mostly I think it’s the process of fishing that counts. And that’s a good thing. It’s not a waste of time, it’s a time to make yourself open to new things that you wouldn’t have seen if you were so busy hooking fish into your boat.

Life is just confusing and unpredictable. But that’s what adventures are. The last two days were perfect examples of that. Nearly nothing turned out that I had planned. On Sunday I was planning on coordinating the JASSes of Rinconada and two other caserios, El Faique and Las Mishcas to all come to Rinconada so I could instruct them how to clean disinfect the reservoir in their towns, using my town as an example. We were set to meet at 10.00 AM. I thought we were just going to meet at my counterpart Pedro’s house. Instead, a group of people went up to start the cleaning, never going to Pedro’s house at all. Pedro and I waited for the other JASSes to arrive from the neighboring towns, but by the time we realized they were no-shows, it was too late, so we had to reschedule the cleaning, much to my chagrin because I wasn’t really jumping with joy to do this demonstration in the first place. However, these things seem to happen. A lot. I even described it to Patrick as “normal” and watched him laugh his ass off. It was more frustrating than discouraging. Indeed, it is rather typical that you schedule a meeting and then an important town authority that was aware of it is suddenly unavailable because he is out of town on business or at a social event, and consequently the meeting having to be rescheduled. It’s just the way the ball rolls here.

The next day I was looking forward restoring order to my bedroom while listening to podcasts and then Patrick called me up saying he needed help with is worm bin, which is fine, because as I have said before, we have to support one another. I went to his house and helped him with what I could but I had to be back at 3.00 to help with my art class with the primaria students. I was back at the appointed hour, but the principal to the school had left to go to his field. I was willing to put class off for some other day, but to both my exasperation and happiness the kids really wanted to have it on the same day – these afternoon activities have been a big hit with them – so I waited until 4.00 for the teacher to get back. Once he did, I divided the kids up in two groups to do two different puzzles my parents had sent me. None of the kids have ever done a puzzle before, to my knowledge. I was happy to see how the boys worked together with very minimal instruction from me. I was actually surprised how smoothly they worked.

I was also surprised to see in the other group the girls fight over the box to look at the picture of the Disney fairies, have a piece ripped in half, listen to the girls argue and watch them stake pieces off for themselves, somehow managing to create three different sections of the puzzle but unwilling to join them together to make the big picture. I even watched one kid (a boy who had briefly defected from the other group) accurately construct a portion of the puzzle and then destroy it so he could build it again. Not to mention the one girl who destroyed another girls section in retaliation to having her own section destroyed, she claimed. More than once I threatened to take away the puzzle if they couldn’t get along. I also threatened to throw kids out of the classroom if they mettled with the stuff in the teacher’s desk one more time, which they had never done before.

It made me not want to have kids.

Ultimately, it turned out to be a success because the kids all completed their puzzles and told me they wanted to do another one. Lucky for them I have a final, more complicated jigsaw puzzle. Lucky for me it will be the deciding factor if I seek out more puzzle activities for them. Maybe we’ll stick with drawing. Everyone loves to draw, right? (By the way, if anyone is willing to donate crayons or colored pencils or even notepads that you can easily tear the pages out of, or similar inexpensive, simple art supplies, let me know, and I promise you they will have the hell used out of them because colored pencils have been a smashing success in my class and not everyone has paper to spare).

But the fact that the youth group is going well and is actually the most fun I’m having with the town is another good example of something I didn’t expect. I’ve never been a kid-person and I initially had no plans to work with youth. But they are my most eager co-workers, so to speak. And as one of my fellow volunteers told me on the phone that evening, I very well might be the only positive male influence they have in their lives right now. And heck, it’s actually fun.

Who woulda thunk it?

Hope all is well.

Tristan

Some Observations about Customs and Critters

2009-09-04T10:26:00.000-07:00

Originally Written September 2, 2009

Dear Readers,

I look forward to the second year of my service. This first year is not yet finished yet (that happens at the end of November) but I think that the second year will be far more productive, if that’s the right word. Things in Rinconada have already started to pick up. That’s not to say of course that there still aren’t difficulties or challenges that leave me shaken or completely baffled.

Little by little projects are going. However, in Peace Corps-speak, the idea of a “project going” is a very vague one, and one that has caused me a lot of grief. Just to succeed in arranging a meeting is a success. It’s a given that the meetings will start at least an hour late, and the lack of punctuality is usually a small joy for me because it gives me time to read while I have the feeling of “accomplishing” something, namely waiting for people to show up at seven for the meeting that scheduled for five. For me, the frustrating thing I’ve noticed is how unbelievably clunky the meetings are. Every meeting I’ve been to has at least forty-five minutes of uncoordinated discussion or people filling out papers that is begging to be streamlined. Often in crowds I succumb to doodling in my agenda or notebook. It doesn’t help that most of the gatherings are done in buildings with awful echoing acoustics and nothing can be heard anyways.

One has to take things with a grain of salt in Peace Corps life. I used to be driven insane by the things people would talk about on the road. “Are you going uphill/downhill?” “Ah yes, going up/down.” Of course I’m doing that. That’s like asking Waldo to his face if he’s wearing a striped shirt. Nowadays, however, I’ve come to be more at peace with it. You just accept it in the same way that Americans will ask you “How are you doing?” and then not even wait for a response. In other words, it’s just another form of acknowledgment.

Allow me to recount a typical story of hospitality. The simple matter of dropping a message off at a neighbor’s become quite an affair if you were not planning to spend much time with them. Every time I’ve had to pass along a notice to someone they have invited me to sit down and take a rest for a while. It’s a nice gesture and one that I’ve come to expect, although not one I’ve really come to always enjoy yet. Yesterday I was passing along notes to town authorities about a meeting I have coming up next week. I entered the front room of a house where several men were passing the time. Hanging from the rafters were fresh carved off slabs of beef and the smell of blood wafted around the room. I gave my note to the local authority who was slicing up oozing beef on the table and then told them I’d be on my way, as I had a whole stack of notes to give out. But everyone insisted that I stay for a moment and have a bowl of beef soup. I was unable to politely refuse and offering a guest food is something that has happened to me often out of generosity and respect, so there I sat. Now, I really love beef. But for a reason I can’t quite figure out, the local beef I’m not too crazy about at all. I guess it’s the taste, basically. Also, I can be very squeamish. Eating a bowl of beef soup in a room smelling of blood with red raw meet all around me and being chopped up on the table inches from my bowl made it difficult for me to enjoy my impromptu meal. So after eating mostly just the noodles and plantains in the soup I told them I was full, which they seemed to accept and that I had to continue passing out notices. I hope that wasn’t culturally insensitive of me.

Here’s a story I hope y’all like. One late night a couple of weeks ago I was stung by a scorpion while trying to smash it with my sandal. In order to keep from passing out from the sensation of having my toe chewed off with a blow torch I tried to make it back to my bed. I pushed through my bedroom door and stumbled over my chair and collapsed on my bed where waited for my vision to return while I consoled myself that I probably wouldn’t die because my host mother told me she had been stung three times in the course of her life. After blood returned to my head I got up and walked out to wake her up. I didn’t want to climb the hill to get to the door of the house, so I stood in the street and shined my flashlight into her window on the second story and called her name. She asked me what was wrong and I told her a “firetrucking” scorpion stung my “firetrucking” foot. She just replied “Ohhhh” and then giggled. A few moments later she came down to my room and poured some rubbing alcohol onto the wound and said something about a candle and my toe. A bit to my dismay I thought she wanted me to stick my toe in a candle flame, which didn’t seem very healthy, but I also wondered if the burning flame would really register much above the burning venom. Thankfully she was only suggesting I drip hot candle wax on the wound, which I did. It did sting, but as I had thought, I could barely feel it. Afterwards, I went back to stomping on the scorpion, which had been crippled and rendered nearly motionless but had stayed alive through the whole ordeal. Orfelinda finally killed it with a stick.

I’m sure her treatments did any good, but the next day my stinging had gone down to where I could walk without a limp, and by day three I couldn’t tell anything at all had ever occurred. Truth is, I don’t blame the scorpion, and actually I think they are really cool and beautiful bugs. I’ve found a few in my room and have always had to kill them, which is a real shame, I think. If I knew of a way of safely getting rid of them without getting stung, I would do that instead. I try not to kill the animals I find, even if the Peruvians in the area don’t like them. I’ve spared every tarantula and snake I’ve come across, and every time I find a snake dead on the road I feel bad for it.

Orfelinda has also acquired a new puppy, a dirty grey-brown campo dog who still piddles on floor and then sits in it. I think he’s cute in his own helpless way; he’s got floppy ears and is slightly larger than my size 11.5 shoe and he once fell off a rock and into a bowl of dirty water. He waddles crookedly along and likes to antagonize the sleeping pig who shakes water off on me after I’ve poured it on him with the watering can to cool him down in the sun.

And finally, my last observation about animals:

Chickens can fly, if only for short distances. For example, I’ve learned that a chicken can fly faster than a bucket’s worth of water I’ve flung at it. I did not know they could move that fast.

I think I’m running out of animal stories. I’m aware that this blog has not really had any linear patterns from beginning to end, but the truth is I wanted to put something light out there. Peace Corps is like life in a lot of ways: confusing as hell and full of chances for you to second guess yourself. This last month has overall been good, but has had its emotional lows too and I wanted to write something that would be cheery and convey some of the lighter or more amusing moments I’ve had here. Even the scorpion sting was funnier than hell I thought. I don’t know why I thought that. It’s a laugh I’d rather not relive, though.

Hope all is well.

Tristan

To Teach or To Learn?

2009-08-07T14:33:00.000-07:00

Originally written on August 5, 2009
Dear Readers,

After my one post in July I decided it was high time to update my blog again. I spent a lot of time last month traveling and didn’t have time to write as much as I thought I would, either in my blog or anything else that I am writing. I read Stephen King’s memoir “On Writing” and it among many things it inspired in me, it inspired me to take another stab at a story I’ve been working on for months and I’m making progress in it, yet I didn’t even have much of a chance to work on that this past month. But that’s not meant to be a complaint; for the most part July passed very well.

I spent a few days with some other friends from my Peace Corps group in Ancash, a region in Peru that is famous for its Andean landscapes, including the mountain Huascaran. It’s also one of the places in Peru where the ancient language Quechua is still spoken. Some of my fellow volunteers have told me that the Spanish they’ve learned before swearing in has gotten worse because they are surrounded by people who either speak no Spanish or speak broken Spanish. I don’t necessarily envy them anymore, though. I still am interested in learning Quechua if I can, but I’m no longer in a rush to devour languages as fast as I can. I want to enjoy them because I have learned something about myself. It was actually something I already knew but was never able to explain until I heard someone explain the same feeling. Although I enjoy using the languages I learn – for years I wanted to be an interpreter – it is in the actual learning of languages that I find real fun. Sometimes people ask me why I want to learn such and such a language, from Finnish to Norwegian to Klingon, and it is because each language is unique and presents new challenges and new adventures, new constructions, new grammar that I haven’t seen before. A story might be the same story over and over, but each new language finds a new way to tell it through its unique grammar and the way its vocabulary is put together: Are the words self-standing, or are they compound constructions that give an insight to how the culture that uses that language sees the world. And what are the roots of those words? How can they take back into time to when the language was being formed out of mixtures of other tongues? Anyways, I owe thanks to the Hungarian polyglot Kató Lomb, who expressed in her book Így tanulok nyelveket (Polyglot: How I Learn Languages) the same passion about not just using languages, but actually *learning* them. I would probably do good not to forget that language was a huge reason why I joined the Peace Corps in the first place.

But I actually didn’t want to write just about languages in this entry. Although the truth is I’ve been wondering for the past few days what exactly I *should* write about. Yesterday I helped my family and my two counterparts put some of the major touches to my garden. The idea to do a garden was mine, but I know very little about what goes into gardening. I know a little bit about composting, to even there I’m still a novice. I have ended up learning far more about this project than I feel I’ve contributed. I’m ok with that because the next time I can help more actively. But I believe this will probably be a theme throughout my Peace Corps career, and I would be wise to keep a healthy degree of humility about myself. I think that I will probably more often than not be learning more than I will be actually contributing. I’m sometimes baffled by how the Peace Corps expects people to come in and introduce something to a community. Even after training I don’t really feel like an expert in water systems or environment matters. We may have more technical knowledge about why or how often a person should boil water or wash their hands, but in lots of things the people who have lived in the community for generations have a wealth of knowledge they could give us if we wanted. I’m reminded of an exercise we did during Staging in Washington DC where we divided the group into anthropologists and natives. The “natives” were instructed to react to the anthropologists in a very consistent manner that was supposedly the way they would react to each other in their own tribe. The “anthropologists” were told that the natives have a problem that the anthropologists and to identify. The natives had no idea that they were being diagnosed with a problem at all; indeed they were simply acting what to them was normal. We can’t always approach a group of people with the belief we know better than them and have more to offer.

I’m not saying we should just leave the people alone. If a person can help someone, I think they should, and there are plenty of opportunities to help in the Peace Corps, in terms of education and literacy, health, and environmental matters. My town alone, a small little isolated village of some 400 people or less has all of these. And also, I think the volunteers, or at least some of them, have the idea that we can’t really change a group of people, we can only offer suggestions and try to persuade the people in our communities to adopt them (digging dumps instead of littering or burning garbage, for example). It’s easy to see littering as a problem and nothing but a problem. I actually can’t think of how it cannot be a problem, as a matter of fact, but getting down to the cultural level is where the real work is. It’s easy to say that to cross a river you need to build a bridge. But it won’t be a usable or practical bridge unless you first familiarize yourself with the river bottom so you know the foundation you’ll be working with.

I guess that’s all I have for now.

Take care of yourselves.

Tristan

PS – Some people have been asking me what I would like to have from the states in care packages. If you are one of those folks, let me give you a short list here. It’s basically food I cannot get here or food that is too expensive for a poor lowly volunteer like myself.

Salted, unshelled sunflower seeds (like David or some brand like that….I like salted better than BBQ or Ranch)
Salted pumpkin seeds (see above)
Crunchy peanut butter
Candies like Snickers, Butterfinger, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups (or other products by them, like Reese’s Pieces), Almond Joy
Beef Jerky, like the smoked, original or teriyaki flavors are my favorites, not so much the spicy flavors.

I’m also very interested in certain pops (or sodas, if you prefer) like Cherry or Vanilla Coke, Root Beer, and Dr. Pepper. However, sending liquids is a quick and easy way to make a package heavy and there might be rules about sending liquids, so I’m mostly writing these down to complete the list I have in my American food-starved brain at the moment, not because I really expect pop to be sent. However, if you feel the need…

To those of you who have been asking and are thinking of sending me care packages, my heartfelt thanks to you. A little piece of home is always nice out here.

Ben and Charles Will Be Proud

2009-07-13T16:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

21K. 2 hours, 12 minutes, 49 seconds. For my buddies mentioned in the title, that information suffices. But for those who aren't familiar with running, I ran 13 miles in a half marathon last week. I am still sore in the knee from it. But I am proud of my results. I didn't walk one step of those hills, rocks, sand, or paves paths. I was quite out of shape for running, but I was still in shape enough from all the walking I did up in the foothills of the Andes. Also, entering the race with no pressure was a great help as well, since I had no illusions that I would win. In fact I was surprised that I was able to finish as strongly as I could.

But the highlight was not the running, it was being with the people, the other volunteers from other parts of Peru. I also got to meet several other returned volunteers from Bulgaria, Madagascar, the Dominican Republic, Honduras, and I'm not sure from where else.

No real crazy stories to tell. Everyone was safe and things went fairly smoothly. Afterwards I had to get to a meeting in another volunteer's site where we learned about gardening. Unfortunately I was a little ill during this but still managed to attend.

Afterwards it was back to my site to try to coordinate something, but July is proving hectic. Once again I am out of town for more meetings this week. And coordination on top of that is difficult with the townspeople after a local meeting failed to come together.

Oh well. It was a bit embarrassing but if you don't learn to roll with the punches, you had best scadaddle over. I step back and a sense of humor is what a person needs. I'm kind of at a point where I surrender control to this life I'm in. Might as well try to sit back and enjoy the ride.

I have more to say, and I didn't plan this to be so bare-bones, but I didn't have a chance to write this out before posting and I need to get going, so I'll try to write more next time.

Wish you all the best!
Tristan

I'm Looking At a Fan (i.e. I Can't Think of a Title)

2009-07-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

Written on June 27, 2009

Dear Readers,

My goal was to write more, even if I don’t get a chance to post as often as before when there was easy internet access. But that goal has, as you can see, yet to be met. I’m not going to let myself get worked up about it, but I will try to write more. As I’ve said before, I enjoy writing. However, also as I’ve said before, it’s usually difficult for me. A challenge that sometimes makes me undermines my confidence in it. Is this what challenges are supposed to do? One would think that a challenge is something that makes you stronger, like a weight against a muscle. But if it undermines you, is it weakening you? Which of course would be a negative aspect of a challenge. Or are you letting it weaken you?

Well, these obsessional thought spirals are no fun, and not healthy either. I’m not sure they are even that philosophical, because I think philosophy drives to understand the universe, not get stuck in the ruts of it. So I guess I’ll say to this line of thought “Screw it.”

But it does bring up something I’ve been wondering about. I should forewarn you all that this might be a rambling blog entry. I’ll try to keep it as non-rambling as possible. Anyway, I’ve continued in my painting. I can see I’m getting better, but I’m still very much a beginner. I am just learning how to mix colors and last week learned how to make the color brown (red, blue and yellow). But to stick to the point, I’ve been wondering about creativity. Why do people create pictures and sculptures and stories? It seems like they have beauty to bring forth to the world, but what if what we regard as art is just cast off energy? I wonder if artists dwell on their creations. I don’t really. I finish a story or a drawing and if I feel it’s good, I am proud of it and tell people about it and sometimes spend time reading it or looking at it. But mostly I just see it as a creature I’ve done and then move on. So is it expelled energy from artists, these works of theirs? I guess the thought came to me while I was looking at some of my paintings I’ve done and it occurred to me I haven’t really thought about them in a long time. While working on them my mind is all lit up with how it might turn out, and how to get it there, and how to understand my limitations as push them just a little further to get better. But then when I’m done the buzz wears off for that picture and soon afterwards I start the process over with a new one. If I refer to the old picture, it’s often to see what I can learn from it, although I have to admit I feel proud to see something I’ve created.

Writing fiction has always been hard for me. Fun, but slow going and difficult. And my stories have almost always seemed flat. Two stick out from my mind as exceptions to that, and they were both rooted in personal experience. Similarly, writing in my blog is not that hard for me because I say what’s I on my mind and what I’m feeling in my heart. When I was taking writing classes and spoke with visiting published authors, I discussed with them the idea of risking something for the audience, and now after years of first hearing about this concept, I think I might finally be starting to understand it. I think my stories lack real feeling of some kind. The best word I can think of at this hour of ten past midnight is soul. To pour my feelings into what I write, in other words. For a long time I thought to make a story captivating, you just had to put the words down and let it tell itself, but I’m not sure it’s that simple now. I think you have to feel the story, feel the characters, feel the scenery, and that’s where it is perhaps. Maybe that’s why I’ve always felt drawn to visual arts, because I have a visual imagination which I could more easily feel different worlds with.

I guess I’m not sure how to do this, but at least I have a start now. At the moment I’m working on a story that I’m kind of stuck on. As interesting as I sense it to be, I just don’t feel all that riled up about it. But maybe I’m approaching it the wrong way, and that’s sapping my imagination to uncover what it is. Lots of times when I write I start out with an idea that takes me to a completely different place that what I had been planning. Maybe in this case I’m trying to be too rational.

Switching gears here, I thought would talk a little bit about what’s going on in site. One would guess it’s winter again, as cloudy, cool and drizzly as it’s been. I’ve also decided to do a project where I help establish a library in the town, in case I didn’t bring this up last time (I don’t think I did). I am excited about this project because, truthfully, it’s the first project I am really interested in. I don’t mean that to sound negative, but I am actually burning out on Water and Sanitation. For those of you just tuning in, I didn’t choose this program. I wanted to go into some type of forestry program. I’m not sure that would have fit me either, but I’m not completely convinced any of the Peace Corps programs would have fit me, and that seemed closest to my interests at the time. But they told me I didn’t have enough forestry experience so I was slotted for a more general program, a combination of health and environment. I’m not sure I exactly agree with their methodology in hindsight, but whatever. WatSan (as we call it) is a fine and necessary program, but I don’t think it’s for me.

In fact, I don’t think most of the work as a volunteer is for me. It’s been kind of a painful discovery, but I’ve been learning a lot about myself. So why stick with it? I guess I’m curious to see where this will go. For one thing, as I just mentioned, I have been completely amazed at what I’ve discovered about who I am. You hear people talk about that sometimes and it sounds fake and kind of glib, but it really is true. I also think that official job aside, there is lots of room to work in different ways. I love to read. I really love to read, actually. So that has inspired me to share that passion by building a library and now I want to start a reading program as well to encourage others to read. My dad suggested that to me at first I thought it was dumb as hell until I started to realize he was onto something. It turns out that some of the teachers in the school have similar thoughts that my dad was trying to convey to me: Try to get these kids interested in books and get some good reading habits formed early, and now I’m looking forward to helping with it. So my dad gets credit for that idea.

My friends always ask me what’s new here, and really the answer almost invariably is, “Very little.” I don’t know how to measure life here, or how to measure progress when it seems so little perceptible is made. So very little, in fact, you start to doubt yourself on so many levels. I’d be tempted to think it’s just me, but after various conversations, I think lots of volunteers feel this way. One could be tempted to think that the Peace Corps is a sloppy haphazard job from some volunteers’ descriptions (or at least some of mine when I’m not in a good mood), but I think that’s looking at it in a negative light. I think it just takes a creative mind to try to bring things to the surface in this work, be it a library, or an English class, or a sports club, or a crafts session (another project I’m trying to create) or whatever. It looks sloppy because projects are usually done in a trial and error way. I don’t know much about how to garden or start a library for a town. It’s all by-the-seat-of my-pants work. It takes a lot of energy patience, and thus it can be a very exhausting, emotionally and spiritually draining experience. It’s not that I know this is worth it, though, it’s just that some instinct inside of me is telling me that it is. For me or for the people in my town though? Well, I once heard a quote that said “Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, because what the world needs is people who’ve come alive.” I don’t know that I’ll ever do a job like this again. I think once might be enough. But here I am, and somehow despite the challenges that come with the territory, I feel like the learning I’ve done is helping me come alive. It hasn’t always been clean or easy, but insights to life are more valuable when you work to get them.

Hope all is well.
Tristan

PS: Patrick wants to say hi. He doesn't have a blog of his own so he invades mine.

Writer's Block

2009-05-31T06:20:00.000-07:00

Written on May 29, 2009

Dear Constant Readers,

I just finished watching a movie tonight and decided to work on some writing. My old roommate and one of my best friends Charles and I both enjoy writing creatively and decided to do some story exchanges, but the truth is, I’ve sometimes wondered if I have it in me to write creatively. A few months back I wrote a few pages of a story and started working on a second draft, but have since moved away from it and now am having a hard time getting back into it. That actually often happens to me. When I write a story it might take me weeks or months to write, but I need to dedicate myself to that story and no other story or I lose my pace. I may have to log this into the folder of other story ideas and beginnings I never finished.

I believe that for many good writers writing is probably challenging. For me, I don’t even know how to come up with ideas sometimes. I have very visual ideas from time to time, or at least visual enough for me to get a feeling I want to replicate. I think this is why I like to draw and why, this past week, I have dusted off my barely used water-color paints and a sketch tablet I bought back in training and have started to paint. So far I’ve done a few pictures, but only completed one of them. When I write and when I draw, it is an evolutionary process: I often only have a general gist of what is happening, but I go with it.

I try too hard perhaps, when I write. I think this is one thing that scares me from writing professionally. I would have to write on a regular basis, and I don’t know what kind of things I could say when I’m pressured to say something. I believe it was Jules Verne who signed a contract to produce a novel a year or some rate like that. And then of course there are countless other writers and novelists who do this for a living. I admire their stamina and wonder how they deal with writer’s block.

But then, I ask myself, do I love it enough? Is my heart in it? Do I like writing, or the idea of it? I think both. I think I do love it, but not perhaps with a passion I would need to not go hungry with it. (Of course hunger is a powerful motivator.) It’s this thing of discipline I mentioned in my last blog entry but didn’t really cover the way I had wanted to.

But writing fascinates me, and I do want to continue with it. It’s just that when I sit down to say something (usually in fiction) I feel stuck. I feel blank and rather uninspired, but maybe just inspired enough to feel frustrated, like there’s a murky fog in my head obscuring an otherwise useable collection of words and grammar and some plot to tinker with. In fiction writing courses in college we occasionally talked about writer’s block, but I don’t really anything constructive out of those conversations. I do remember being able to write better under a deadline, which I oddly contradicts what I said about writing as a career. I enjoyed the race I had to come up with a story, even if it wasn’t super great, it was something, an exercise to get creative stuffs firing away. Like with my drawing and new hobby painting, I applaud writing “crappy work” because it actually is not crappy work in terms of an exercise of the mind. It might be drudgework or pale in comparison with something yet to come, but gets the ball rolling, and like other practice, lessons can be learned from it.

My APCD of my program Water and Sanitation (WatSan, for short if I haven’t mentioned it, but I probably have), Jorge, came to visit me at site yesterday. He only stayed briefly and then moved onto to Patrick’s site in the afternoon. I don’t blame him for not staying longer due to his traveling itinerary, but I was disappointed to see him so briefly. This feeling surprised me a bit since initially I was very nervous he would come to site and decide I wasn’t doing enough, something that has caused me feelings of insecurity and guilt. But taking a risk, I told him about some of the things I’ve done, such as all the books I’ve been reading, some of the games I’ve played on the computer, and now I am painting, in addition to a list I had drawn up of potential projects I think would be helpful to the community and am interested in doing. Instead of being upset, Jorge just smiled and talked about how some of his volunteers constantly need to be busy with something, whereas I am a person who is content to spend time in a more quiet fashion, reading and so forth. He said that some of the other volunteers, were they in my site, would go crazy here, but that I am actually doing quite well because of my personality which allows me to spend more time alone. This was a relief and made me feel more confident in my own person as well as in my work here.

Often I’ve learned this lesson in life. It just keeps being repeated: Usually there is no reason at all to worry about something. I just hope I can keep this in mind now. My first near quarter century of life was filled with enough worry to last however much time God has given me.

Well, it’s nearly tomorrow now, so I think I’ll end this entry here.

Addendum: Patrick said that he wanted to make an appearance in my blog. So here’s something. I loaned him twenty soles so he could buy a phone card. He now insists that in addition to that money, *I should be the one paying him back* in twenty soles’ worth of chocolate candy. I think the starch in his food is getting to his mind.

Tristan

Some Philosphical Musings

2009-05-31T06:18:00.000-07:00

Written on May 24, 2009

Dear Constant Readers,

To start out with, I’ve been doing some more thinking, which is what I usually do anyway. I’ve noticed areas in my life that I would like to improve, and things that have caused me frustration which I’m wondering about now, is it even worth getting worked up over?

As usual, a major catalyst of my thinking has been my reading, but also I have noticed activities or habits in my life that seem to be wasteful or unproductive. This is all part of the process to get to know myself better; something which I think is an often misinterpreted statement. At least in my mind I’ve misunderstood it before. Sometimes when someone says “get to know something,” they have a specific goal in mind, and when that goal is reached, their mission has been realized. However, getting to know something means also a constantly on-going process, something that has as few stopping points as a river. It is constantly moving and ever-changing, and if you get to know only a certain point of it, you will know almost none of it. A river has various depths, currents, angles, areas of smoothness and areas of turbulence. It is always making an impact of some kind: a bank touched by the water will never been the same afterwards, and even though it is the same river by name, it is not the same water, much how in our own physical bodies even: our ideas grow or change, and even our cells die and are replaced such that after a point our name is almost the only thing that has remained (I would argue there is something beyond that as well, on a spiritual realm, that more solidly anchors our uniqueness, as well). But the point is, getting to know something, including even one’s personal self, should be, if it were visually stated, “I am getting to know…………………..” instead of “I am getting to know,” as it is never really a finished process until life is expired.

That said, one thing that bothers me is how I feel I am wasteful with my time and would like to increase a sense of self-discipline. I am one of the millions, or more likely billions of those who have hardly any idea where they are headed or even where they want to go in life. I have some general ideas, enough to give me a sense of direction; but then maybe that’s all we really need. Maybe the idea of a certain set goal, an end, is not really the point of life. Maybe achieving something doesn’t bring a desired fulfillment that is believed to be the key to. I am not anti-Western culture. In fact I think I am more comfortable when I’m living in the privilege that we have. I would like to live in work in the USA or Europe perhaps. But I think it has made some serious mistakes in terms of how it defines success. Success measured in materials or money seems to be like cotton candy or a mirage to aim at. I think as an end it’s probably a hollow and unhappy one. What if life is more fulfilled in the living it, the journey of it, and its lessons? I’m not trying to do away with the importance of working to live, and I don’t mean to say we should all act like the wise man sitting on top of a mountain, but that there is a different attitude we need to adopt in the journey of life. An attitude that doesn’t mean search for reassurance from outside sources as if something separate can make us whole, but realizing that we are whole if we accept already that we are. Maybe not perfect in the sense of being the ideal human with the problem free life, but perfect in the idea that we are where we are supposed to be? To use an example from nature, a tree has no thought that we know of, but if it did, would it compare itself with others? Or would it be satisfied with its situation? A tree can still get sick, get damaged by wind or lightening, carved up by people with knives, chopped down and so forth, would that make a tree less perfect? It is what it is. So are rocks, so are fish, and so on. So what about us? I don’t mean perfection by means of one who makes no errors, is lacking in wisdom, and sometimes hurts others. Our actions aren’t always perfect, often they are the opposite. But our situations are where we are, and there is no need to fight what is, perhaps.
There are things in this world we need to change. The environment is in peril. Population-related problems are on the rise. There is constant fighting and crime among people. All of these are common examples, and I don’t think we should ignore them, but these are things that we can improve. However, I think we should try to know that in the process of fixing problems which we can fix and accepting what we cannot, we will have a better chance of survival and in finding happiness. Ultimately it involves becoming more in touch with one’s self and with the world around it.

I admit I haven’t yet been able to think out what the implications of all this is. It could be these are all well-meaning but naïve ideas. They might all be short-sighted, but I don’t think they are necessarily headed in the wrong direction. And I know that these ideas aren’t original either, nor have I lived up to them on a daily basis. And I do acknowledge that much of the world would disagree that their lives are perfect when they are sick, starving, in the middle of a war, illiterate, so on. I’m not trying to be arrogant or insensitive, as life is challenging, and some people face more challenges than others. But the attitude with how one faces challenges is more important than the challenges themselves. CS Lewis once said that tragedy like war or an accident or a house burning down doesn’t give people courage or concern that they didn’t already have. It merely brought it out. He didn’t mean that these are ultimately good situations; the point was that we have “the right stuff” in us all along.

And I have to say, sometimes I think if this is what I am doing as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I feel a bit guilty because I don’t think I was sent here to philosophize and ponder life. However, I do that habitually, and I’ve done it ever since I was a little kid sitting on a swing set lost in my imagination while everyone else played football, soccer, went down slides.

I’m very aware that I often forget to take things as they come even here in my blog complain about things that probably are really just little concerns, but then I make mistakes too, both in my actions and in fretting about things. All of us have something to learn. I have dreams just like everyone. And I’m trying to realize them, hence being better self-disciplined with how I spend my life and my energy to achieve a fulfilling life. We are all in the flow of life, the river of it, and the realization of this is maybe more of an achievement than in outside goal that we often aim for. There’s something for us all to learn.

Tristan

Books, Cars, Sewers and a Dog

2009-05-03T07:15:00.000-07:00

Written May 1, 2009)
Dear Constant Readers,

I attempted to write an entry two nights ago, but I found I had little to say and my entry disintegrated into a listing of books and so forth. Yet not without good reason. Since arriving in Peru back in August, I’ve counted 26 books I’ve either read or, having read back home, read anew. These past two weeks alone I’ve read or finished five books and have working on two others, one of them being once again “The Power of Now” and the other being a biography of about an Italian Cardinal who, while residing in his home city of Bologna, mastered around 38 languages and over 50 dialects of the various languages.

The two projects I wanted to do in site were dry latrines (composting toilets) and a water filter system. Yet the population of my town has their hearts set on a sewer system. I don’t blame them, but I don’t think it’s in the best interest of the town, due to its remoteness, mainly. While building their sewer system, I was told they are going to put in a treatment facility for their potable water, which then rules out me wanting to work on filters. I’m not too disappointed about it; after all, the town should benefit, and I’m sure that there will still be plenty for me to help with, but I was very curious about seeing how these projects would go together. As I’ve never really been taken with the idea of working with people working with a form of technology seemed fun for me. Even as a little kid I could lose myself just building gadgets out of Legos, from submarines to miniature movie sets, complete with two or three cameras (many years ago my dream was to go into movie-making).

The last month has been busy as far as traveling goes. I went to Mancora (a beach town) for Easter and met several fellow PCVs there. Immediately afterwards I had a Peace Corps meeting on the topic of HIV-Aids education in our sites. All told, I believe I was gone for nearly two weeks of the month. In site, however, there has been little news with one major exception: the roads are repaired enough for cars to come up to site again. So I am looking forward to sitting down on the way to my capital city rather than hoofing it for three and a half hours. The rain has proven to still be present, however. There is rarely any sun to speak of, and although the roads are drying up, there is still plenty of mud. Still, as I am adjusted here, it’s not as bad as it might sound. I am also planning to help a couple of teachers teach English in the schools in my town. I have only helped with on class so far, the equivalent of a first grade class maybe. I have yet to see a shred of evidence that God blessed me with a skill to pass along knowledge in a classroom. But with a teacher there, I am willing to help, especially in terms of spelling or pronunciation.

Mostly, I’ve stated, I have been reading. I’ve also been diving into my French studies, with basically is me reading “The Stranger” in French by Albert Camus at this point. I try to make a point to study it every day I’m in site. It reminds me, however, that even though a few blog entries ago I said I was pretty well set on seeking a career in linguistics, I’ve thought more about it and have decided that for the moment I am not really in a position, nor really have the desire, to lock myself into any career path. I guess I have a general direction I’m interested in, but I’ve decided not to make too many plans and just try to keep my options open. Besides, if teaching at any level proves to be distasteful to me, as I suspect may be the case, I doubt a field in academia is for me.

On a note of local interest, my host mom’s dog died yesterday (April 30th). But its death was no accident. The dog was in fact poisoned by person or persons unknown. It wasn’t exactly a popular animal, and I myself had no great love for him. It wasn’t so bad that he slept outside my room, but because he whined and howled and barked into the night, I sometimes thought of throwing rocks at him (I never did though). He would chase animals and get into fights with dogs on the street, and that was the problem. So eventually someone decided they had enough and sabotaged his life. Even though I didn’t really like the dog, I still think that was unfair and especially unneighborly. Since he wandered off to die in the night, Orfelinda had to get fetch him. Being a five or six year old golden lab, he was too heavy for Orfelinda to carry, so she tied a rope around his neck and dragged him down the street to her house. Once there, she retrieved a shovel and I helped her car an iron bar known as a “bareta” in Spanish (I don’t know the English world) so she could break through the roots and rocks in her field to bury him. After dragging Sentimiento through a creek and to her field we dug a small grave. When she put the dog inside he didn’t fit. Orfelinda suggested finding a stick and mashing him into the hole, but we both quickly jettisoned that idea. After enlargening the grave we finally buried him. Overall Orfelinda had a very good attitude, but was still clearly very irritated with whichever fellow Rinconadian poisoned her pooch. And it’s kind of strange to not have the Sentimiento around, because whenever he wasn’t annoying me or terrorizing a pig walking by that should have been locked in its pen in the first place, he was actually a good dog to the family.

I guess that’s kind of a downer to end on, so let me see if I can find something else to say. As I wrote above, I’m re-reading “The Power of Now” and it’s much more powerful the second time around because I’m able to see better how a lot of the things the author Eckhart Tolle suggests. I still have been struggling to find the “Now,” as he calls it. Basically his point is that people have become addicted to thought. They get stuck in the past and the feeling it provokes, or they worry or strive so hard for the future, that in both cases they lose sight of the fact that both places are unattainable because the only moment a person is ever in is the immediate present. Most of what he says in the book is actually common sense when one stops and thinks about it, but it’s so basic that it’s easy to see why people lose track of the essence of what it means to live in the moment (a phrase which I think might be often misused). Anyway, I also like how the book is not religious, but rather spiritual, and how it can go with several different belief systems, as the individual case may be. Since this is such a journey for me, too, I can see how it applies to my life.

For all those who wish, please write me, I’d love to hear from you!

Tristan Foy

Without Title

2009-04-08T10:52:00.000-07:00

Written April 6, 2009

Dear Constant Readers,

A hummingbird invited itself into the dining room today as I was eating my breakfast of fried bananas and fresh cheese while reading “Ender’s Shadow” by Orson Scott Card. At first I thought the buzzing noise behind me was a big bug and I expected the disgust I felt to be justified. I turned around just in time to see its hovering silhouette disappear over the balcony and my heart leaped to see such a little bird, something that I’ve never seen in the United States (except for once in a zoo).

While attending a meeting in Lima about putting together larger projects that will span several weeks or months, I looked around and asked myself, again, what exactly I gotten myself into. Even writing this now I can feel some of the wind leave my sails. But I have reflected and come to realize, once again, if I were left on my own out here with no assistance as far as instructional meetings go, I would still likely find a way to get things done, and that comparing myself to the other volunteers is a fruitless and worthless endeavor. I chose to be here, outside of my element, i.e. out of my culture, out of work I understand, and so forth. But in a larger sense, sometimes wondering what we are doing here is a common feeling, not for what we have chosen necessarily, but regarding life itself. In a sense we are all on some kind of service work trip. And this service comes in many different ways, but ultimately in a way that is hopefully helpful.

Someone once said, and I wish I could remember who now, “Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” I chose to be here because I was following my heart that I wanted to see and do something in another part of the world. While out walking today I reflected on the size of the world and the opportunities we are presented with. I used to believe that the world is big so we can try as much as possible. But I started to think today that maybe that is incomplete. Opportunities are there for us to see and do, but not like an amusement park, but instead more like a shoe store: Find where you fit, where you belong. Some people are absorbed in music, computers or (like me) languages. I believe in trying to keep interested varied, but most of us probably have that one thing where we belong, that “world” where we can go off to.

For many it is sports, yet for me I have never understood sports. I enjoy running, but that is only so I can retreat into my imagination with more ease. In fact I describe myself as a “sports agnostic” meaning that I believe in the possibility of sports being exciting and fun, and can accept that others find meaning in it, but I have never once seen anything that gives me proof of these attributes. I have never had anything that would amount to a “spiritual” experience if this were a theological topic. This has sometimes baffled those I’ve spoken to, and it’s been an occasional source of frustration for my parents because I lack the ability to relate with others about something so common. But it simply has no place in how I fit into the world. It’s not that I’ve rejected it. It simply has never taken root in me anymore than the desire to be a trapeze artist has.

The world doesn’t change around us perhaps as much as we change in reaction to what we learn. That may be a silly statement, and I realize I don’t have the wisdom to back it up perhaps, but as we find, or lose, ourselves more profoundly we see the world differently. I came here, deep down, wanting an adventure. A romantic adventure into the world, but as always, a journey into myself, to learn more about myself. I must say, I pride myself on being, for the most part at least, an autodictat in languages, but in the school of the self there often is no teacher, either. You learn by trial and error and a lot of pain. I’ve become gentler in that I don’t think pain is so necessary in life, but ironically that is a lesson usually learned by experiencing pain, and so perhaps in a sense as a teacher it is necessary, after all. We are all here to do a service, to come alive, but to help others, either actively or through example. Because we don’t live alone, and while we seek out our loves in passions, our “worlds,” by the virtue of being individuals, we are all part of a tribe, and our lives intersect like the links of a web, like the grains of a beach of many minerals.

Tristan

Post from Rinconada

2009-03-29T10:45:00.000-07:00

Written March 25, 2009

Dear Constant Readers,

Out my screened windows I see the green mountain across the way on the far side of the river. On a clear day I can see the town perched on its face, but right now everything is covered in clouds over there.

I miss the blue sky and pretty sunsets. I’ve joked with myself that when I go home I’m going to move to a desert so I never have to see rain again, but that’s not true. I like rain fine, but I looking at clouds all the time can get rather dreary.

I should point out something, mostly to myself than to anyone else: I just finished reading a book called “The Power of Now” by Eckhart Tolle, in which he discusses humanity’s collective need to simply accept what is, whatever that may be, and not worry about the past, which is sealed in the past and does not define who we truly are, nor worry about the future, where setting goals to fulfill us is like walking towards a mirage. And already I have failed in the latter part of that by saying I want blue skies. Oh well. Consciousness is part of what he teaches, and at least I’m aware of trying to learn.

Actually, I predict his book will be pivotal in my life. I read it at the advice of a very trusted friend, so whenever I started to think some of his advice was “out there” I was patient to keep reading. In all reality, I don’t think the book is original at all, but it was never intended to be. Tolle bases his “teachings,” if you want to call them that, on the teachings of other more well-known figures, ranging from Buddha to Jesus, never choosing favorites. It’s had an impact on how I view things that have happened to me in the past, and the flaws I’ve had in my character, and has given me some insights on who I believe I am versus how am I perceived through my ego. Anyway, I’m aware that while I write this, it can sound rather strange, but the book is really far more down to earth than I am making it seem. I’m going to have to re-read it though because a lot of it I haven’t understood yet.

I think my work will pick up here now that school has started. The director of the secondary school has expressed some interest that I do some talks on hand-washing with the health post, and one of the students has asked me on a couple of occasions if he can swing by and ask me for advice on English, which of course he and anyone else can. The director asked me to be an English teacher in the school, which I was afraid of, and I had to say no. I don’t know if I’m not cut out to be a teacher, not cut out to be a teacher for young people, or just not having luck with my English class with my host brothers, but I know that if I’m the one creating a lesson plan for teaching English, I’m not going to be happy, which means my students wouldn’t be happy, either. This is kind of surprising because I really thought I would enjoy teaching English. I was actually looking forward to it. But then I realized that the way I learn languages is different from many other people, and I don’t know for sure how to get to them.

It’s a little disconcerting because what I am interested in maybe doing professionally likely involves teaching, however at an academic level.

I feel a little bit like a linguist named Kenneth Hale who said that in school he didn’t do very well as a student. The only thing he cared about was languages and he let everything else slide. In college I had some of that in me, although I was too studious to really let my studies slide. I tried to do languages but ultimately it was too much for me to juggle at the time. In high school I certainly felt that way, though. Dad once remarked when he saw me reading a German workbook on the way to church that if I cared as much about math as I did about languages I wouldn’t be struggling in math. He was probably right.

In my village here I do care about helping out here. I feel a little constricted by the rainy season as far as getting materials up here, and frankly overwhelmed by the logistics of everything, but I’ve learned that it doesn’t pay to worry. Things will work out, and I plan on working hard to achieve what I can up here. But I cannot deny that in my free time, which has been plenty so far, I’m probably studying French by reading “L’Étranger,” or writing glosses for stories written in Kaqchikel or Jiwarli, reading chapters of the Old Testament in Esperanto, reading about ergative grammar structure or Navajo phonetics, not to mention everyday using my Spanish. Sometimes it can be exhausting and I wonder if this is what I want to do for the rest of my life, but ultimately I always come back to it because indeed I find pleasure and adventure in these words. I don’t know how to realize my dream of working with endangered languages, documenting them before they die out, or just collect data from exotic languages about which little is known. Sometimes I don’t even know if that is what I want to do with my life. Maybe it isn’t. But it doesn’t matter right now. If something else comes along, than it will come along in good time. Right now my job is to focus on the present, at what I have at hand, work here in this town and soak up the knowledge of the resources I have at hand. And then we’ll see what happens later.

Hope all is well.

Tristan

Reconnect

2009-03-19T19:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

I spent a good part of the week within site of the Pacific Ocean. That night I stood looking at the dark horizon and listened as the ocean break against the coast like a powerful animal living, breathing and being. I reflected on where I had come from and where all I had gone in my life, and what experiences I had had up till then. It occurred to me that such amazing things don't just happen, and that there is a mighty force in my life, and that there is no need to worry about things I cannot control anyway.

I've never been much of a beach person having been raised in Nebraska. I had never even seen the ocean until I was 17 in Mexico. They saw the ocean is immense and can make you feel insignificant. I think it does, too. But when I stand with the surf breaking around my bare feet I think that I'm standing in the same water that floats around India and Greenland and Texas and the Philippians. For me the ocean is a symbol of how small and interconnected the world is. What power in a thing that can sustain life, be immense but remind you how the world which it makes up is so small.

The reason I was near the beach is because we had Reconnect, a session that lasts a few days for all of the Peace Corps Volunteers in a given group (in our case, Peru 12). We catch up with everyone - the highlight, but also get some technical advice and so forth.

While friendships have formed more solidly between certain groups of people in certain areas, in many ways it felt like being in training again. The people I felt closest to I still felt "closest" to, but there were others that I felt close to as well that I hadn't earlier.

I am planning on going back to the same city we were in to run a half marathon in July. The deciding factor was when I learned that one of my friends who had to go home is planning on coming to run it. Our group has now lost a volunteer from each program: one from Environment, one from Health, and one from Water and Sanitation, but best group, bringing our number to 45 volunteers, still a commendable number.

I've had a problem in the writing of some of my entries, and one I think I've found a solution to. For me, writing takes a certain mood because I want to do more than just convey a message, but try to convey a mood as well. A relationship with the words. In Piura it is hard for me to find that vibe to write in. I have considered writing in my site whenever I feel like it and then just upload it here, but I never did that because I want to write about a cumulative experience of sorts. But I feel my content and quality is suffering, so I'm going to do this. What helped me decide was when another person suggested I write in site as well. I decided that if it had occurred to me and to at least one other person, maybe I shouldn't cast the idea aside so quickly. So I'll try that and see what happens. Therefore hopefully this next entry I write will be more like some of my old ones. Because I feel like I have a lot to say, but just not the words to do it now.

Until that day,
Tristan

Finding My Center

2009-03-03T20:12:00.000-08:00

Dear Constant Readers,

Every time I come to Piura I feel a little depressed. This week I finally figured what causes that feeling. In my site the life is so slow that when I come into the city I'm overwhelmed by emails to answer, people to call, things to write, errands to run, tasty food to eat, people to meet, and it all sort of hits you like a grand piano dropped out of an eighth floor apartment window.

Which is actually the reason why I didn't write the last time I was in Piura. I was just too busy. And at my site itself I have also been busy. But not exactly with service work as it were. That's mainly what I want to write about tonight.

I was reflecting about my reasons why I joined Peace Corps. Was it for adventure? Yes, in a big part. It was also because I wasn't sure where I might want to go in my life, but something about this potential adventure attracted me. And then it began to dawn on me while reading some of the testimonies written by friends, colleagues and students of linguist Kenneth Hale, who worked at MIT. I realized that one of the driving reasons for me was to learn the language of a given area (or improve, as is the case) but also so become aware of the culture. I think I am most interested in building kinds of cultural bridges.

I need not stress I'm sure how passionate I am about languages, and I started to consider that perhaps this is the route I want to take in life. I have considered it often, but now I wonder if working in linguistics is what I want to do. For years it has been my dream to travel and work with a variety of languages and see a variety of cultures, and I'm hoping that maybe I can find away to do that kind of field work.

You see, I'm not the service work type of person. To me, the importance is showing others how cultures are valuable and making them aware that we all are human who share the same planet. It might sound kind of idealist, but it's something that I am coming to see. In my mind, I am interested in doing it through languages, truly unique marks of genius to the imagination of humanity.

Once I started to realize this about myself, I have noticed that I feel better at my site. I actually don't have much to report from there specifically, but little by little it is becoming more homelike to me. Overall I feel more comfortable there.

Here I am going to end this entry due to the fact it's late and I have to pack still. I will try to write more in my next entry.

Hope all is well!

Tristan

A Trip to Chalaco

2009-01-21T12:29:00.000-08:00

Dear Constant Readers,

The rain has started. Which means I don't know how often I'll be able to write until April or so. The roads have been washed out because they are all dirt and landslides are frequent. Because of fear of losing my computer in a river crossing, I didn't bring it to Piura and am in a computer cafe where the machines are slow and unreliable.

I don't really remember what all I was going to say, so I'll keep this fairly short (and also to keep my sanity from working with this unreliable machine.

I had to take my nurse up Chalaco on a Sunday afternoon. Not really a problem under normal circumstances, but it was raining the whole way, it was through the mountains, it was late in the day to go, and as the nurse can't walk as fast as I the 3.5-4 hour trip turned into a 6 or so hour one. It was dark when we arrived, and neither of us had a scrap of dry clothing on. But at least we got the vaccines delievered. After two hours of rest (not sleep, though) in some dry clothes that the nurse's tec had for me at his house in Chalaco her and I left on a bus down to Morropon at 3.00 AM. On the bus I got maybe an hour of sleep or so, but it wasn't easy as the bus constantly rocked and seemed to want to tip over on the 5 hour drive.

From Piura we drove to a river that was so high cars couldn't pass it like normal, but you cold on foot. So on foot it was with porters to carry our luggage (we had anticipated an overnight trip, and I thought my backback was waterproof. But it really wasn't.) After waiting for a couple of hours we managed to catch a car that was headed in the direction of home. However, while we had been away the rain had washed out much of the road and meant we had to walk another 2 hours or so to make it back to Rinconada.

Afterwards, I had to walk the hour up to Patrick's site to figure out how we could make it down to Piura the next day for our regional meeting. He ended up staying at my place for the night and we left at 2.30 AM for a 3.5 hour walk down to Nueva Esperanza where we found a car that could take us the rest of the way to Morropon, even though we had to wait a few hours for the driver to wake up and go. The river was low enough to cross in a car, although I wouldn't have tried it.

We caught the bus to Piura and arrived at 10.00 AM I think.

The adventure was draining, and as far as work is concerned it was the hardest day of my life. It was one of those times that makes a Volunteer want to go home and curse Peru or wherever they are. I view this trip as a sort of marriage, where you agree to stick with it through hell or highwater, which is fairly literal in my case. One of these days would have been an argument. A big one with flying remote controls.

But I felt like I had a badge of honor when I made it too the meeting. Very very unwashed hair, dirty and sweaty, muddy legs and blisters all over my feet...One of my friends told me I had the Peace Corps look down. She said I had a very distant look in my eyes.

But I'm glad I did it. I didn't enjoy the rain or getting lost in the dark, but it is all part of the job.

I wish I had time to write more, but that will have to do for now. Hopefully when the electricity comes back on in my site (something somewhere exploded and knocked out power in a couple of towns last week) I'll be able to prepare a more complete entry.

Hope all is well!

Tristan

It Is a Part of You Now

2009-01-04T21:13:00.000-08:00

Dear Constant Readers,

First off, a wish of Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Years, belated well-wishing though they are. I don't get much chance to write, you see? I spent three weeks at my site, and while I was glad to spend that amount of time, I needed to come down to Piura for a change of cuisine, check my email, and take a hot shower for a change. It will hopefully be a bi-weekly deal.

Life will never be unraveled by me, that's sure as hell. I was never very good at riddles, anyway. It's a living art. That's been a main theme of this blog for those of you who haven't read some of the other entries. I started just as a way to keep people updated while I stomped around in my leather shoes in Germany a couple of years ago and found out I liked writing it. Sometimes when I'm frustrated with my fiction writing I think that talking about my thoughts is the only kind of writing I'm decent at. But I read an interesting quote from Faulkner today and while I didn't memorize it, he said that all writing should come from the heart, otherwise the published words are representing false ideals.

In my blog I write from the heart. I don't spill out everything, of course. Somethings the wide world doesn't need to see, but I try to be honest and open, even when I am disturbed at what I have sometimes disclosed.

I don't have much to say about the last three weeks, as a matter of fact. Christmas and New Years were fairly minor deals in my site, Christmas in fact passed as quietly as a whisper in the wind. The only difference was that people didn't work. New Years was celebrated by burning a doll made of old clothing and socializing. It was a nice party, even though I vehemently refused to dance (it's almost a life rule for me). Dancing makes me feel like I'm walking around with my ding-dong hanging out for all to see, and I'd rather not put myself through that roller-coaster. But I still wanted to be social, all the same. We'll see how that goes, but in the past....oh...six years of life my comfort with dancing has improved little, and I see no major changes on the Andean horizon.

I did spend time analyzing feelings. As I've said before, the most I've gotten out of this trip was to learn about myself. At some level I think that is why I joined. I didn't think I'd change the world and I think that will be useful to keep in mind down the road. But I never intended to anyway. I'm curious about the world to see how it works, to kind of play things out, to observe and go with the flow. Last week I made an observation by holding a baby chicken to my ear to see if I could hear its heart beat or lungs draw breath.

I wasn't always like that. I used to plan things out more. I wanted more control, but that has consistently never really worked out. I don't mind so much anymore. Takes a hell of a lot out of my hands to worry about. Adjusting to the simple life has been and perhaps will continue to be a challenge. Amy, a friend of mine and another volunteer said that it takes unlearning to adapt here, she is correct. Their life isn't better here, but the lack of complications from much of what I was used to in college is enjoyable, if that enjoyment can be reached. It takes work to know that life doesn't need to be filled, but that it feels itself because nature abhors a vacuum. You just have to know how to work with what you are given. I fill much of my life with reading now, and soon it will be filled, partially, with doing surveys to discover the strengths and weaknesses of my adoptive/adopted community, but whatever this work leads to I cannot say. They are just little plot points on a vast empty stretch of paper upon which life is written.

A friend of mine told me not to fight. Not to fight with myself and not to struggle. The harder you struggle, the deeper entangled you become, they say. Somethings must be fought: bad habits or addictions for example, but even so I think when it comes to anxiety, to pain, to uncertainty, and feelings related to these maybe it's better just to let it takes its natural course in life, after all. I don't know why you get more entangled, why so often people don't break free but get bogged down in uncertainty. Maybe there is another law to nature there too.

Hope all is well.

Tristan

Message from the Andes

2008-12-12T05:09:00.003-08:00

December 11, 2008

Dear Constant Readers,

The past few weeks have been a bit like being on a boat going through a mix of rapid waters and then calm stretches, always headed down a river where you can’t really see around the bend.

Two weeks ago I was sworn into the Peace Corps, so I am no longer a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee) but now officially a PCV (~ ~ Volunteer). After swearing in, all 47 of us said goodbye to our host families in Chaclacayo and headed off to Lima where we would be over-nighting and then catching our bus to wherever we were destined travel to. Most of the people decided to hit some clubs and party to celebrate the last night we would all be together before going off to start work. I opted out of this, however. I have been learning for years that no matter how hard I try, I am almost never comfortable in large, loud, party settings. Somewhat to my dismay, I’ve discovered I don’t even like staying up late anymore. I used to feel guilty that I would be missing out on something, but I’ve figured out that I just am not in my element and for me, not missing out on anything if I don’t go out.

I was one of the people set to leave the next day, but not until the end of it, so I got a chance to say goodbye to most of the people heading out before me. Until then, I spent much of the time just walking around in Lima.

Fourteen hours or so after departing Lima, we arrived in Piura where Patrick and I stayed a night, and then caught a bus up to our sites to drop off all of our luggage. For all the traveling I’ve done, I have never learned to travel light. I suppose I’ll have plenty of time to practice these next two years, and I know I’ll be leaving plenty of clothing behind when I come home in 2010.

As we had a meeting in Piura soon, we turned right back around the next day and headed back to the city, where we met a lot of the volunteers in the Piura region who had also gathered for the meeting. However, all the traveling and lack of rest and early mornings left me exhausted and I fell ill for a few days, so I ended up staying in Piura a day longer than intended to rest, but in fact it was exactly what I needed.

Now that I’m at my site, I’m gradually adjusting. I’ve had a chance to learn a little bit more about Rinconada, for example the population is a little over 500, and I’ve had the chance to do some exploring in the town. As it is only the end of my first week, I am taking things slow. However, I consider myself doing successful work just be trying to be out in the public and getting to know the people, as a large part of being a PCV is simply encouraging a cultural exchange between the USA and the community. Sometimes this is not always a pleasant experience. You are constantly stared at, for example. People often want to try a few stock phrases of English out on you, usually “Hello” or “Good morning” and for some reason, one that I have never been able to quite put my finger on, being addressed in English by a stranger makes me uncomfortable. But being in the Peace Corps isn’t about always feeling comfortable. The fact is for me, I’ve always been uncomfortable when I’ve visited Latin America (although, I admit, it is limited only to Mexico, Peru, and to a lesser extent Belize and Honduras). I don’t know why, I’ve just never quite felt “at home” even after spending a considerable amount of time here. I also have always had a tough time adjusting to Spanish, the same way some people have enjoying German, for example. (I thought I’d be placed in a Quechua-speaking site and learn another language.) However, I’ve come to the conclusion that one does not need to love either the language nor feel at home in the host culture to still have a meaningful two years of service in this organization. What’s more, I cannot be sure I would be feeling all that different were I in another place in the world doing this job. I’m sure there are places better suited, and places worse suited for me. But it is more about working with what you have and making the most of that.

I have been making friends with the nurse and the tech assistant at the medical post, which is where I am writing this entry at the moment. For the past week there has been no electricity in my house so all of my reading and writing (long-handed) has been done by day-, flash-, and candlelight. It is by this method that I have read “Journey to the Center of the Earth” and “The Kite Runner.” I discovered that there is indeed cell phone service within an hour and a half’s walk up a mountain side. For the first time for me, I found a living scorpion, which I thought was really fascinating and not nearly as disgusting as a spider. I was never raised a farm, so I never grew up around many animals. Therefore I find observing, and at times catching, ducklings and chicks to be a fun pastime as well.

Tomorrow I’m off to Piura to buy some more items for my room, check my email, and post this entry. As I probably won’t be back before Christmas, I wish everyone a Merry Christmas/ Happy Holidays!

Hope all is well!

Tristan

PS - This will mean something to only a few people, but this has been the most relaxed year of my entire life. Consider this a thank you, to you few. :-)

"So This Is It. It's In the Middle of Nowhere."

2008-11-16T09:27:00.000-08:00

Dear Constant Readers,

This last week I spent a few days at my soon-to-be new home for the next two years. In many ways, I got exactly what I wanted. When I was told a couple of weeks ago what my town was like, I was very happy and relieved. It is in northern Peru, in the region of Piura, namely. It is a small hamlet in the Andes Mountains, which is to say it’s high up, but low enough to still be moderately warm and green. In fact, it is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. It is a quiet, sleepy village of surely less than 500 souls.

But arriving there was a shock. The trip up there in a Combi (a little van that inspires no confidence) over the small, one-landed dirt road up the side of the mountains took around two or three hours, and that was plenty of time to ask myself around ten times just what in God’s name do I think I am doing here. Up in the isolation of Rinconada, my town, I am blessed with a few amenities: running water, electricity, and there’s a rumor of cell phone service, but since I don’t yet have a cell phone I can’t ascertain that. There is no internet, but an hour’s walk uphill to the next town where the nearest volunteer, Patrick (who is quoted in the title of this entry) lives this apparently can be had in the school.

My home has the coziness of being in a big den. It’s dark and musty, but I think will be comfortable. But shock of being in such a humble home, knowing I’ll be living in it for two years, has not yet worn off. I’m not being picky about the conditions there, but I would be lying if I said it won’t take getting used to. The latrine is merely a squat toilet surrounded by some plastic sheet walls and a curtain. It isn’t as bad as I thought such a toilet would be, especially when you really just gotta go. But I did have to chase a chicken out of it the second day there. The shower has a similar design. The water just flows over some flat rocks, so I bought some sandals to where specifically there. But I am getting used to the art of taking a cold, hasty shower.

I decided to alleviate some of my shock by drinking a Dr. Pepper that I discovered in a supermarket in the capital city Piura while sitting on my second-story bamboo porch and take in the beautiful Swiss-like scenery while reading my book I brought.

My family seems to be quiet nice, although quiet around me still. I have two younger brothers and a single host mother. The two brothers, 13 and 14 years old, both have been interested in speaking with me, although the youngest one stares at me while I eat, and I don’t know how to react to that. The older of the two brothers told me he just knows the history of Peru, so I decided to give him a brief history of World War Two, one of my favorite historical time periods.

The cat only likes me if I have food in my hand, otherwise I can’t get within an eight-foot radius of him.

The locals I’ve met have mostly been kind, although a few have been shy, which is understandable given the fact I am a man, seen as both an outsider and an authority figure, and the first American to live in the town (however, apparently there was a local girl who got married to an American some time ago).

The first night I was introduced to the community by my counterpart, the person who, hopefully, will be working with me throughout the course of my two years. I told them who I was and where I was from, and taught them how to say my name which has consistently been harder than hell for almost every Spanish-speaker I’ve run into. I also had plenty of time to feel like I have just about as much business being a technical advisor to these people as I do being a technical advisor aboard a space station. We’ve gone through the training surely enough, but I still felt very small in front of every one.

After the introduction, everyone joined in a drinking circle, a Peruvian tradition of passing a bottle and a cup from person to person. The alcohol, I think it was called cañoso or cañete or something, was mixed with milk and something else to make it sweet, and I decided I probably drank my Dr. Pepper a few hours too early.

The school director sees me basically as a much needed English and computer class teacher. I knew I would be asked to teach English. I’ve even kind of looking forward to it. But the second request took me by surprise. To the best of my knowledge the town only has one computer, anyway.

The slow place of life will take some time to get used to, but, by that very nature, time is all I’ll have. I felt guilty by just sitting on my porch and reading, but when I would get up and walk around and be stared at, I saw that most of the folk were doing something similar. When I’m not working or spending time in the community to integrate myself, I’ll need to think of something to occupy myself. Reading and writing are definites.

I knew this would be a challenge, and I will take it on, but I was surprised how much I’ve adjusted to where I’m living now, and how I felt two and a months ago I feel again after having visited site. I’m sure it will wear off as well as I fall into my notch there. I felt sad, however, at all the friendships I’ve begun to make over these past few months, and I know that now we will be spread all over the place. I take comfort in the fact that most of us are in the same boat, but it does take some reckoning.

Like many things in life, it is a mixed bag of surprises. I’m curious to see how it will turn out.

Hope all is well.

Tristan

After Field Based Training

2008-11-04T14:20:00.000-08:00

Dear Constant Readers,

I know that the Peace Corps is right for me. So it’s something of a paradox perhaps that I sometimes wonder why am I here. What were my motives for coming? What do I hope to get out of it? And so forth…Some of these questions I have begun to discover answers for, but many of them still restlessly swoop around in the canopy of my mind like birds looking for a roost.

I know that I am not the only person in my very group who has asked themselves these questions, let alone the first person in the entirety of Peace Corps history. I was following my instincts in joining up, and I know that I have wanted to see South America, so that answers some of my questions. When it comes to helping people, things are harder to define. I do enjoy helping people, and I did want to get some service work in my life that has been almost completely devoid of it. The work though I think will be a shock to the system, but certainly not a bad one for me.

However, I think my best ways of helping come more in listening to people, as I love listening to what is in people’s hearts that troubles them in life. I like being able to be there for people, for being able to hopefully relieve them a little bit of what they are carrying around by just listening.

I guess perhaps it is not completely a surprise I have been seeking some kind of service work in my life. For one reason or another I have always been the type that has felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, sometimes in the form of worrying for others and sometimes in the form of just worrying about myself. Perhaps worry isn’t the correct word, but I know I’ve spent a lot of time in thought about a range of subjects that one can do very little about but think.

I have spent most of my life worrying plenty more than my fair share and I know that it is extremely useless. That is now something else I am trying to learn from on this trip: just how little control over life I have. Life is like wind, always carrying you along, but sometimes things knock you down a long the way. Some people bounce back and heal quickly. I don’t. I used to think I was “thin-skinned” but I sincerely doubt that now. I think a better adjective would be “slow-healing”. And I don’t know why, but at this point in my life I am tired of insisting there always be an answer. That’s just the way I am, the way some people are. It is not good to hold on to stuff, but for those of us who have a hard time letting go, we aren't alone at all. Attributes about people can change as is necessary over time, but ultimately, you are who you are. I’m unique, but for the very reasons I’m unique I also have a lot in common with others: I’m misunderstood sometimes, or lots of times. I have secrets. I have doubts. Things scare me. I like some people a lot and have a hard time liking others. Some things make me madder than hell. Some things really make me laugh. A lot of things I just don’t get.

I have less than a month left before I officially start my job as a volunteer here. I just got back from Field Based Training (in Ica) where we got our first taste of what work will be like. I very much enjoyed something practical and hands-on, but I also considered how daunting this is, like a mountain in front of me, and wondered if the payoff is worth the sacrifices. There is no way to know, but there never is. Some things just aren’t meant to be known right away, and some answers can’t be just given or discovered because they must be grown. You look at the challenge and just keep grinning while you go on forward with your life.

As promised, I want to give a special thanks to my friend Patrick S. and his father, whom, Patrick informed me last week, is following this and many other blogs. I am very thankful you are reading! :-) As always, feel free to leave any feedback!

Hope all is well,
Tristan

2008-10-19T16:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

All of us have our thing. All of us have that one challenge or family of challenges that call us to grow. These challenges are similar in that we all share experiences with one another, but the impact our lives uniquely. You know of what I speak.

One of my friends gave up a smoking habit after 7 years. He just kicked it when he joined the Peace Corps and hasn't lit up in over a month yet. He also told me that this trip would be a way to purify himself. For a person who doesn't believe in a soul, I find that to be a very soulful remark.

For myself, I am also going through this process of trying to be more true to myself. Over the past several years of my life, I've had huge dreams, and have had the courage to fulfill some of them, but somehow have always had a confidence problem. I don't know why, but I always seemed to compare myself to others, some who were people I was so different from I would count it as a blessing to just be myself, but because I always instinctively have gone against the flow of the norm, I've also felt periodically lost.

Being or feeling lost is a very normal feeling for all of us, but it is constantly labeled as bad or an incorrect way to spend one's life. I wouldn't want to spend my whole life lost, but I wouldn't want to settle for someone else's life/answers either, or simply settle for just something less. I think this is one reason why I have felt insecure for so long. I didn't have the answers in life I needed, I didn't have a plan, just an outline with planned detours in various somewheres along the way.

I don't think we are supposed to so much find our place in the world as just to find our place in ourselves, because the world is something we cannot ever really control. I for example really want to learn Spanish, and learn it as well as I can. But I feel out of place in the language sometimes because I'm one of the few people in the world who don't really like how it sounds, nor am I at home in the sort of mix of "in your face" and "close-knitted-ness" of Latin America, just to mention how loud it is, not just in sounds, but in body language and colors and styles of music and dance and so forth. When I see other people say it is part of their soul, this culture here (or I would probably be more accurate to say myriad of cultures in Latin America) I know that my home here will grow slowly. But I also know that in my life, I am here for a reason and that I don't have to feel settled here to look back on this fondly. I do want to feel settled here, but I can't force it.

Some people go to someplace they feel drawn to. So did I, but I am not sure why still what that draw was. I'm still looking for that. I had some ideas of what I wanted, but I think there was something deeper than that. Something to really help me grow, and to help me live a full life. The plans I had had were quickly blown to the wind, so to speak, so now I really do have a chance to just try to take life as it comes, with all of its challenges.

Hope all is well,
Tristan

It Feels Good to Have Internet in My Laptop Again

2008-10-05T16:16:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

Earlier this week I discovered my flash drive went the way of the dodo. I figured I wouldn't be able to do the blog thing again until I had a new flash drive, as I don't want to write forever on internet cafe computers, but then I decided that I could just take my laptop to the one empty slot in the cafe and plug it in directly. What really motivated me to do so was the fact that my computer was acting funky and I figured it needed an updated virus scan, however.

Anyway, things here are going good. I am entering week four and have adjusted pretty well to the culture here so far. Adding to the adjustment was a much needed stop at a Pizza Hut in Lima. God that was good. The pizza by American standards kind a bit disappointing, but by starving for a taste of home standards, it was comparable to the finest cut of steak.

Last week one of my Spanish-class mates suggested we watch "Pan's Labyrinth" in Spanish class I guess we had hoped to talk about it, but instead, our teacher, who had never seen the movie before, seemed rather queasy by it and told us how the movie was anti-Christian among other things. This left all four of us a little stunned at how much he reacted to the movie.

I am over-coming gradual illnesses that have plagued me. Last weekend I had a sore throat that was bad it would have been almost impossible to eat anything solid. But a steady and solid dosage of Ibuprofen at an amount to rival the most jaded alcoholic's liver put an end to that little adventure.

Today I finally learned how to do laundry by hand. It's amazing the luxury we have in the states. Here, the plumbing is such that you have to throw toilet paper out rather than flush down the toilet because it can clog pipes up. It's not as crazy as you think though, and in fact when I go to my site in November, odds resources will even be less than that.

I have been downloading a lot of books to read, but I have made very little progress in the ones I've already brought. I wanted to find a Quechua grammar book, but I don't know where I would look to find a good one, so second to that, I'd like to find a Bible in Quechua and try to learn the language with that...or at the very least acquaint myself with it.

Overall life is going well, and although I'm sure I have a lot to say if I just thought about it, I can't think of much right now. I am constantly around people, and although I very much enjoy spending time with my friends, I need some space too, so this weekend I took some and played on my computer a bit.

Soon we will learn how to build a latrine (maybe next week) and I am looking forward to that. Hands-on stuff rocks. Last week we learned how to mold PCV (or PVC, I can never remember) pipes for water, we got to go on a field trip to see a water system in action, and we also got to learn how to make banana bread over a hand-made oven, to name a few sessions. In fact, the only session that I haven't really enjoyed was the First Aid one last week that left me feeling a little in knots. I really hope I never need to use any of that because a) I don't want to be in a situation that stressful, but also because b) I have a hard time stomaching that stuff.

Dealing with stress has been aided somewhat by some running groups we have put together that meet sometimes after class. Last week many of us also met at various other volunteers' homes to watch the Vice President debates. It feels good to have something in common.

Anyway, I think I'm going to sign off on that note. I mostly wanted to get a blog entry off. Thanks for reading and I hope all is well!

Tristan

From an Internet Cafe in the Foothills of the Andes

2008-09-15T16:48:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

The flights from Washington DC to Miami and afterwards from Miami to Lima, Peru were slightly uneventful. Our plane from Washington was an hour and a half late from departure, and for a while some of us wondered if we would arrive a day late, but we landed with 35 minutes to spare (in fact the plane was delayed…for 47 people one figures they would take that into account). I have no idea how so much luggage (Peace Corps doesn’t travel light) was transferred from plane to plane in only 35 minutes.

The next day we were interviewed by our project directors, placement people (to find out which family we would live with during training), our language assessment people, and the medical director.

Here something remarkable happened.

One of the main reasons, if not the main reason, I came was to learn an indigenous language, in Peru’s case, that would most likely be Quechua, spoken in the highlands. However, in my assignment, there is little to zero chance that will come to pass, as our assignments are spread along the coast. I was very disappointed, and I was envious of the people in the environment program, which was what I wanted when I originally applied almost a year ago.

I spoke with my friend Erica about this, and she helped me realize something that has been a factor in me since I was a little child. I get my hopes up; I expect too much in that I get preconceived notions and then am crushed when they aren’t met.

This was my major misstep when I went to Mexico.

I decided that night to adapt a new outlook to life. I decided to steer clear of making plans for myself when there is so much that happens I cannot control. It is usually the case that no matter what I have planned, the course life takes on its own is more fulfilling and exciting. I was reminded of when I wanted to go Japan to study but ended up having to wait a year and instead made some of the best friends I’ve ever had, something that would not have happened if I was away. Life cannot be controlled, only attitudes.

After that I decided to get married, in a sense at least. To stick with this commitment through the good and bad, for better or worse, for richer and especially for poorer, which will certainly be true.

That was the first day.

And this will be a very rewarding challenge. I am having a hard time adapting to the food. Here there is a lot of rice, almost with every meal, and other foods very rich in carbs. I have a hard time ingesting so much food (and it really is a lot, Peruvians chow down on boatloads of food like they were born with a fork in their hands). Consequently I still don’t have an appetite, which has me a little worried. But I have plenty of time to work on that.

Attitude is everything. I’ve decided to just feel my way along, my new goals being complete these two years, see the world, try to help some people, and find contentment with that. Spanish is perhaps the number two skill needed here; a sense of humor, even a twisted one like my own, is numero uno. The support of friends is also vital during this very challengeing time. Lucky me that I have the friends here I do have.

My family is nice. There is a mom, dad, four sons (I think, although one of them doesn’t live at home), a niece, and I think the mom’s nice or cousin – I think cousin – who came by last night and I think is probably a frequent visitor. Plus, there is a month old Pekingese puppy that likes to chew on my hand. So far everyone here seems to have a great sense of humor.

Tonight, after taking a bucket shower – the only way hot water can be had for bathing – I’m going to go to bed sooner. I’m exhausted from the changes and the stress, from not getting a nice 8 hour sleep since I don’t even know last when, and I’m sore from getting two vaccination shots (several more to go during training), I think I’m coming down with a cold, the air is constantly white with smog (or something) as we are in a valley surrounded by arid mountains, I have a headache probably from not eating enough. I don’t mean to say these things in a negative light, because I don’t feel negative about them. I’m just making a huge transition right now.

I hope all is well, state side.

Tristan

PS – Those who want to know of the water flushes the opposite direction, I say to you, I guess so. I haven’t really looked that closely, and I wouldn’t have noticed a difference.

Leaving America

2008-09-11T19:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

Here I am in Washington DC finishing an orientation session for us 47 up and coming Peace Corps volunteers, leaving for Peru bright and early on the morrow! Already I am excited and am having a blast with my new friends, even though I still can't balance so many names and where people are from or what their programs are or whatever.

These past couple of days have been really fun and have gone much faster than I thought they would. For the past couple of weeks, I've been starting to get nervous and so forth...Well, I shouldn't say "starting" but it has more and more begun to become a reality. I was interviewed in my town and so now everyone who reads the local paper knows that I am headed south of the border. It seems kinda strange that everyone knows where I'm headed.

I'm really curious to see if I can handle it. As my room mate said, it's all about attitude, and I really believe this is true. It will be an important thing to keep in mind, as well, because my program, Water and Sanitation, will be the first in Peru. Madness. Pioneers are we!

Anyway, please excuse the short blog. I'll try to keep this going as best I can...Certainly from time to time, anyway. But tomorrow morning means we are on the bus bright and early at 6.15 to depart.

I hope all is well!

Yours,
Tristan

PS - Ben, I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you here in DC. It's been a whirlwind of events, but we can stay in touch regradless (the grad is for grad school!)

Post From Home

2008-08-16T22:36:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

I figured I ought to write again. I haven't written much since coming home from Lincoln a few weeks ago, so I wanted to write something.

As it is, I am home alone now that my siblings have been dropped off in college. For the time being I have the place to myself whenever my parents aren't around, and in fact they won't be around until Sunday. So it's just me and the dog, who at the moment is asleep right behind me in his bed, all curled up into a tiny little fuzz ball.

Since coming home I have gone to Las Vegas with my family, our one big family vacation that we try to do annually. So far we have been to Disney World and on a cruise as well. I also spent nearly a week cleaning out my room. I'm something of a a hoarder, you see. And I hauled away a few trash bags filled with old papers such as assignments and algebra notes that made no sense to me when I wrote them down six years ago, so they certainly won't help me now. And it felt good to give all that crap the boot. It made me really sick of stuff. Not only did I dispose of old scratch paper and torn up school folders, but I also boxed up my memories of Mexico and college, as well as sorted through my clothes to determine what I can keep and what I've outgrown and can give away. This whole many-a-day process really made me tired of all the things I have. I have sunk so much money into movies and books and so forth, I really feel I don't need much else. I plan to continue to buy books, but to be wiser with my selection, as I already have several I need to read before I go on purchasing. And movies...well, I love my DVD's; even though I don't plan on owning a TV when I have a place of my own, I ought to clarify, I don't plan on getting any TV channels, but I would like to have a TV for movies. Nevertheless, I don't watch much of those anymore, either. They are more of a treat now than they used to be for me.

So cleaning is healthy for me; I like the feeling I get when I have more space, when I toss stuff and so on. Because, in actuality, it is hard for me to toss things. As a kid I collected rocks. In college, I held onto theatre tickets from plays because they happen to make the perfect bookmarks. But I started to feel weighed down by it. So out with it, as much as I can.

Overall I have been doing pretty well. I have been getting a little bit more information regarding my assignment in Peru. I will be leaving on September 10th for staging for a few days, and then off to Lima for three months of training. I have had my doubts. I have wondered if Water and Sanitation is what I want to be doing... In fact I was hoping to get into forestry, working with plants and so on. But I didn't qualify by a long ways. So I will therefore be helping people learn better techniques on sanitation, ranging from developing potable water supplies to latrine maintenance. I'm not sure I'm too hot about that, but what's a humble piece of work for two years? There'll hopefully be other jobs that need help so that I can gather more experience. Apparently I'll be also teaching people how to wash their hands with soap and water. I wonder if there is an efficient technique that even I'll learn.

In short, I'm setting my mind to get ready to do my damndest I can. I am sure there are aspects to the job that will be very challenging. I don't want to romanticize my service there (although with me, that's kind of hard not to do). Yet, I really am looking forward to the challenge, to growing, to helping, to learning, to hopefully improving someone's life. After the shocks of adjustment are largely settled, I hope to settle there as much as I can as the situation calls.

Last weekend a classmate of mine got married. She's the most recent out of a whole group of them that are now married, engaged, and even already with kids. It's still a little strange to see this happen...They all look so young, and that's because they are! One part of me doesn't envy them.

And yet, one part of me does, frankly. At least a little bit. Now is not the time in my life to look for a relationship, and I've squared with that. But still, single life is lonely, and when people tell me to enjoy it, I sometimes want to say, "I do! I have been for many years!" I actually am thankful I have this time to myself, I have grown comfortable in this solitude and freedom, but I would lie if I didn't say that sometimes I wish I were in a relationship. But I guess this is quite a normal feeling.

Anyway, I hope all is well.

Tristan

From Under the Night Sky

2008-07-23T19:42:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

I just realized that my Facebook seems to be importing my posts again, so I'll stop copying and pasting, as it has been leading for a long time to double-posting.

I find it curious that I often write when I am in a slump, as I have been for the past few days. I don't know what is causing it, but I have some ideas. I quit my job on Friday to get ready to move home again. From there, I'll spend a month and a half with my parents before I leave for Peru to begin my next job in mid-September. I guess that can be a cause of stress in life. Positive stress, called eurstress or something like that, but it can also be the source of anxiety. But I've been through anxiety before, and I know I will make it through this. I said in my prayers the other day, in a form of gratitude, that I look forward to the challenges in life, to being tried and growing, somehow like a fresh breeze that blasts away dead skin that is just weighing you down and so you can continue on with life with a revitalization about you. But that process is not always an easy one, and sometimes I find myself in melancholy for a week or so.

To be honest, I am an optimist, even though I may not always sound like it. But I think it is a quiet and reflective optimism. I am scared about going to Peru...The "freaking out" stage hasn't set in...no no, that's not for a few weeks yet...but I am apprehensive....will I like my job?...will I hate it and fall into a pit of depression and isolation?...and what will I do later?

Yet above all this, I realize this: I will have trials, I have trials everyday, just like you, but I can't live in fear of them? I might really struggle in Peru. At the very least it will be challenging, even if I decide to totally go native. But I have to go. I have to go to Peru. Were it another situation it might be like I have to go to grad school. I have to apply for that job (or quit that job). I have to make that move in a relationship. We all have optional obligations we have the free will of being obligated to do.

If there is one thing I can say about being kind of emotionally down, it's that I am more reflective in it. But the danger is also that I can be too self-absorbed, to fixated on the "what if's" that we are all prone to. My thing is that I think I have just as much figured out as most people, which isn't a heck of a lot...but everyone else acts like they have things figured out better and so therefore I feel helpless and wonder why I'm not "getting it."

We all put on different faces. A long time ago I had a discussion about masks people wear throughout their life. A different mask for a different situation. At the time, I was extremely disturbed because I felt like it was being deceived. But ultimately we all have to handle ourselves in this imperfect world, and we have to play different roles. I don't know how I feel about masks, but maybe when a person is wearing a mask, they aren't necessarily trying to deceive you at all, but instead just trying to play the role that is appropriate.

Anyways, being reflective all the time can be a bit like wallowing. For me, I wish I could pull out of these slumps more easily. When I'm in them, it's hard to be as energetic as I'd like to be, but I guess it's how I'm wired, and I am trying to weave that into my life or handle it in some other way that is constructive, but not stew and become a sad philosopher. Life is too beautiful to do that crap. And it is beautiful. I'm reading a book now that is challenging the way I think about a few things, and one of the things I am discovering is that I believe in a universal Truth, upon which all truths are based on. I haven't thought the ramifications to their logical ends, nor do I exactly follow or agree with everything the author puts forth, but I believe there is a solid thing that is under our figurative feet. (Besides, even if you don't believe in a universal truth, and that everyone has their own "That is true for you, but the opposite is true for me, so let's agree to disagree" then the foundation of this philosophy, this table that the marbles roll around on, seems to me to be a basis of some universal truth of acknowledgment of some kind).

The book has suggested that a fulfilled, good life comes from giving rather than seeking out happiness or power. Our material world counters this, and I have nothing against material things, but they can be distracting. I realized this purpose a long time ago, and wrote about it in my blog, when I said that people were meant to help one another, that they have built in capabilities to heal just by touching someone who is suffering from a pain or anxiety. I've never heard of a culture where the people, even the notorious ones, weren't capable of affection to at least someone.

Anyway, that's enough for tonight. I'll try to write more regularly, and I always appreciate comments back. Thank you all for reading, and to my close friends that I've spoken with, when I've said I love you, believe me, I do mean it, and I wish the best for you.

Hope all is well,
Tristan

Happy Fourth of July

2008-07-04T23:10:00.001-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

I felt it was time to write you a message, as I haven't written in a long time. That isn't to say I've had nothing to say. But as time has gone on, I haven't been as devoted to the more regular writings I used to do. I've even stopped writing in my personal diary so often, which may be something that I'll come to regret.

But oh well. I am at home for the weekend, celebrating Independence Day with my family, and enjoying some time off. My time at our apartment is coming to an end this July, and then I'll be moving home for a little bit over a month. I was recently accepted by the Peace Corps to work in Peru doing Water and Sanitation work, which I'm happy about. I don't know that much about the work I'll be doing, but I was told it would involve construction, so to make up for my severe lack of construction experience, I've been spending Saturdays volunteering for Habitat for Humanity, where we help build homes for people who don't have a home. I'm finding that although the skills I'm learning are good, I won't want to do construction for a living. But that doesn't really surprise me. I think it'll be good for me, however, to try something new.

Maybe something new is what I really need at the moment. I set out to learn French earlier this summer, but ended up running out of gas. It scared me that I might be losing my passion for languages, and I sincerely hope that won't be the case. I think the truth is though, I just am not as enthusiastic about certain languages as others. I've told people before, you don't choose the language, it chooses you. And really, in a way I think that's true. You don't choose something so much as you find it fits you. French, Italian, Spanish, and so forth, beautiful and soulful languages though they are, and ones I do want to learn (or improve my knowledge of) they simply aren't what attracts me to linguistics. I am more excited by exotic languages that look nothing like what I am familiar with, such as Navajo or Indonesian, or ones that feel very earthy to me, namely German and Norwegian.

I doubt I'll lose my passion for languages when I still get plenty of enjoyment out of simply leafing through grammar books and bilingual texts. But this has made me realize A) I need to be well-balanced and B) I'm not sure I want to go into linguistics professionally, as I was beginning to think I might.

I'd like to hear what anyone has to say about this.

Do I disclose to much on this blog? Sometimes I think so. I've mentioned this before, but I think I'm still learning the art of how to speak about one's self without putting all the cards on the table. I believe in honesty, have recently been made to consider that I come across much to strongly. Some of my friends know practically everything about me, while other close friends I can still confide in, but I think that it is wiser to avoid some subjects. I think we are all like that sometimes, though.

But I'm really lucky in the friends that I've made. I'm not going to list names, but you probably know who you are. A lot of you I haven't seen in several months anyway, and I want you to know that even though the dynamics have perhaps changed, I still miss you and am proud to be your friend. No matter what side of the country/ocean/planet you may be on.

It's actually late here now, so I think this would be a good time to stop. I'll write again eventually, and hopefully will have some access to Internet while in Peru, because I plan on maintaining my blog while living there.

Till then!

Hope all is well,
Tristan

To My Fellow Introverts

2008-05-26T21:11:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

I may have written on this topic before, but it merits mentioning again, even if I already did talk about it earlier in my blog.

Much of my life has been confused, and in this I'm sure I am not terribly unique. Everyone has their own puzzles to solve. One of my big ones was my social attitude. For my whole life I enjoyed spending time alone. I enjoyed being with friends, but my imagination, the source of my energy, was most fueled when I was solitary. Any yet, I somehow always felt guilty. I felt left out, and wondered why I never seemed to "get it" and often felt insecure. There were a lot of reasons for this, but one of the biggest was because I had yet to really come to grips with just what kind of person I am. I would notice how I act around people and felt like there was something broken in me, and yet it wasn't the case. There was nothing broken in me, and I was never socially crippled (aside from the awkwardness that haunts us all from time to time). I was, and always will be, an introvert.

People like me don't seem to have much instructions for life. You don't see very many movies about happiness signifying happiness, unless its in an art house film. Instead, you have the emotionally confused person eventually finding his or her way into the party scene and everything is happily ever more. When I came to college, I reflected on how popular culture shows college as parties with friends for fun. And it can be fun, but it wasn't for me. And yet I felt confused and empty.

I was empty because I wasn't being myself. I've tried to be that social person. I can't do it any more than I can pretend I'm an ostrich. It just isn't me. Today I was at the Boulder to Boulder race, in Boulder, a sleepy little village in Colorado, and I watched thousands of runners race by on their 10K jaunt. A few adventurous souls ran by wearing costumes ranging from dressing in drag, to Batman or Spider-Man, all the way to a full body gorilla suit, complete with mask, all of which I'm sure was peeled off that poor bastard when the race was over. And the thought jumped across my mind, Maybe I should wear a costume if I run this race. After all, I had briefly considered wearing an Indiana Jones costume to see the new movie (which was a very fun movie, by the way), but then I realized that isn't me. That's not my way of being me and attracting attention, if I want attention. I realized I didn't admire that person for wearing a costume, thus giving me the idea to; I admired him/her to be myself, just the way they were being their own quirky self.

See, those parties in those movies and so forth...They don't symbolize happiness because they are parties; the symbolize happiness because they represent human relationships, and for those, you need people. Introverts like myself need friends just like anyone else. But we need more time alone, probably more than others normally would, because simply that's how we are built.

It leaves me feeling confused and stressed. I like to be included in things. I am flattered and touched when my friends invite me to do something. But for the longest time I didn't know how to say no, if I just needed time alone. Last week I was offered the chance to go bowling, and I said yes, knowing I'd regret it. However, the way things worked out (the bowling alley was booked up) I asked my friends if I could be dropped off at the apartment, where I could spend some time with myself doing Tristan things (in this case, studying French for a couple of hours). I needed the break. My job in the library is rather quiet, but I needed time to do what I wanted to do. And afterwards, I was fine. I joined my friends at the bowling alley a couple of hours later and had a great time.

When I look at my friends who are able to get up and, for instance, dance around in front of us, I sometimes have a feeling of being a party pooper for not joining them (and sometimes I join and have fun), but I'm not the kind that gets up and dances around, or whatever. I still like spending time with them, I'd in fact not be very happy at all if I missed that, but I need to fill up my reserves. If not, I tend to get irritable and gloomy, and the weather, often quite cool and drizzly, which depresses me while at the same time delights everyone else, doesn't make matters simpler.

I miss swinging in parks. I spent so much time there as a little kid. Running is my meditation now, my time to be alone. That's one outlet I get.

So, to fellow introverts, it's OK, there's not a thing wrong with you. To my friends, thank you for accepting me for who I am. I don't mean to come off as a pessimist or anything when I'm around people a lot. Thank you for your patience.

While I'm on the subject of friends, I wonder sometimes at how relationships go. I know the distance hasn't been so friendly to those when they live far away. It is the way of things. Sometimes I wonder if they think of me as much as I think about them though. I miss you guys. Especially you fellow Americans, Dylon and Iona. You two are golden, and I hope we stay in touch. I love you guys.

I guess that's good for now. I successfully graduated, managing to get a B- on my thesis, which, considering I only had a semester to work on it and it usually requires at least a year, isn't bad at all.

And I went sky diving. Now that was butt-kicking.

Hope all is well.

Tristan

Graduated

2008-05-19T12:43:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

So I've done it. I graduated from from college with BAs in German and Global Studies, and my thesis I achieved a B- on, which I was happy with. I would have liked an A, of course, but the paper usually lasts more than a year, all said and told, and I have only one semester to write it, so a B- isn't half bad.

In the meantime I'm taking time off now for a few days before starting my new job at the campus library for the summer. I'm also hoping to hear from the Peace Corps soon. I've been medically approved, but other than that, I have no real news. I've been trying to prepare myself by reading memoirs from former Volunteers, but ultimately, every experience is unique.

What else have I to say? Not too much. The thing is, when I write, I have to be in the mood to write, and at the moment I haven't quite fallen into that hole, or gotten into the Zone, or however you want to put it. But I haven't written anything for a while, so I felt it was necessary to at least make an entry.

I am a bit nervous to see where my life will lead to next, although, if the past is any indicator of the future, as the cliche goes, things will work out for me. I still have no idea what I want to do professionally, but if I get into the Peace Corps, maybe I'll think of something then. I still think something to do with linguistics, but who knows.

I'm going to try to start writing more stories, now that I've gotten back into the practice of it since taking a fiction writing class. Over the years of observing humanity, I've found our traits to be funny, and although I've never been a fan of fantasy, sometimes the inventions of the human imagination are really amazing (human language for example) and I would like to incorporate more of that into what I write. I think the human soul is very beautiful, and some outlets are very helpful to me to see that, such as PostSecret, which I have become very interested in over the past few weeks.

Otherwise, I am afraid I don't have much more to add for the moment, so this is a short one.

Plans for the summer (outside of working):
Write more
Get through a few books (hopefully finish one today)
Study some French
Skydive

A short to-do list, and maybe I'll add to it, but it looks alright to me for now.

I'll probably have more to say next time!

Hope all is well!

Tristan

End of College Burnout

2008-04-12T14:58:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

The thing is, I need to just vent some stuff onto the wide web for my own therapeutic purposes. The end of school, at least until grad school, which at this point I'm not even thinking about, is just around the corner for me. And I am running out of gas. I am so tired of working on my thesis research and papers I just want to scream or cry. I put together my first draft earlier this week and now have to edit it and prepare a PowerPoint to defend it. It's hard to really do this because the work is daunting. In truth, I'm just tired of my major. I should have been something more artistic, like an English major or something along those lines. I don't enjoy processing the data that a Global Studies major is required to do. I'm just burned out with school, when you get down to the nitty-gritty of it, and I doubt I selected the correct field of study for me, now that I have the grace of being able to look back over things. Not to say that it is a bad major, it just isn't right for me. Thankfully, I will soon have my degree to literally do whatever I jolly well please, but I wish I had directed my energy elsewhere.

I wonder, did I go wrong somewhere? Did I yay when I should have nayed? Or is it just a trial and error thing? Probably some of both. In fairness, I honestly thought I would enjoy my degree throughly, seeing as how it had to do with a lot of things I liked (and still does, but not in the ways I like them, I guess). I wanted to give it an honest chance, but by the time I really knew, "Hey, this isn't working for me," it was too late if I wanted to get out in four years. What's the hurry? $$$ and my lack thereof once my scholarships run out on May 17th.

But here I am, wondering if I should be happy or disappointed, and wondering what it means that I even ask myself that.

This winter sure hasn't helped. This is the worst winter I can recall in my life. It just won't END. Please end! Jack Frost, bugger off! Slowly getting warmer, although these last few days have shown that winter has certainly been assertive in its mission, especially since it's spring now.

I feel guilty around roommates having to do all this work. They have finished their theses, or have not had as demanding courses, or simply don't have to do one at all, so they seem to be having a more stress-free way to look at things. I don't feel I have that luxury, and it makes me envious, so I don't think they understand exactly when they tease me about doing my work, it's a teasing that starts to get under my skin. I'd rather play video games with them, even though I'm not terribly good. It's a catch-22 for me. I'm not good at playing these games, so I start to get frustrated when I lose pitifully to them every time, when they do so much better, yet when I opt to not play to save myself the frustration, I end up feeling like I've left myself out of the group.

Same goes with cookouts. I like socializing, but I'm not a fan of cookout food like grilled steaks all the time (it just doesn't taste as exciting), yet feel obliged to participate for the sake of socializing.

I think I need to go brew a tea or something to cheer myself up. I don't understand why I'm so glum about things right now.

On the plus side, this is all almost over, and it will be behind me, one way or another. I'm on the road to healing myself from last semester, and have started to take more control of my life, like prioritizing better. Sometimes you just gotta do it.

Hope all is well.
Tristan

Home for Spring Break

2008-03-17T22:31:00.001-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

I have made it safely home for Spring Break. My plans are as follows: lots of homework and studying. I have two theses to write, and one of them will be in German. Thankfully, they are about the same topic, so by doing research for one, I am in fact doing it for both of them simultaneously. For those of you who may be interested (if I didn't state it earlier) my topic is "Die Vergangenheitsbewältigung Deutschlands wie mit deutsche Films gesehen" ("Germany's coming to terms with its past as seen through German cinema") and so I have several books to go through (as with most kinds of research, of course) but I also get to watch a slew of German movies, which is actually fun, and incidentally I just finished the first one ("Europa Europa") a little while ago. It's funny, but watching a movie in German does more than anything else (short of going to Germany) to get my mind back into German mode. I can still feel the sounds resonating through my jaws and teeth when I speak the language and imitate their accents. It's like savoring a delicious meal, to speak a language well. That's how it feels to me, at least.

But that's not what I really wanted to write about. Lord knows I'll be doing enough writing for my theses as it is.

I am at a confusing point in my life, and I don't know where to go. In my family I was raised Catholic, but I don't feel some of the Catholic values so strongly anymore. For example, my Mom seemed disappointed when I told her that for Lent I still ate meat on Fridays. That's a small example, but for me, really, a lot of it doesn't seem so important anymore. I still regard myself as a Christian, but as far as a denomination goes, I don't see it as so critical. At yet at the same time it makes me feel a bit empty inside. Catholic traditions seems too conservative for me, but I haven't found something that I'm happier with.

And I don't understand why I am rebelling against a lot of what I grew up with. Rebel is perhaps too strong of a word for a lot of it, but I'm a lot more stiff-necked and reluctant to agree with them a lot of items, and while speaking about this with my Mom, she didn't think that all of my reasons were the best, but rather I was rebelling just for the sake of it. But I'm trying to figure out where I stand in life. Or am I just being reckless? Actually I sort of forget about this when I come home, how these conversations with my parents can go. For most of my life I've held many Catholic values dear to my heart, but part of me wanted to see what else is out there.

It seems like I would have decided this all already, but I haven't all of it. I'm just confused by a lot of it instead.

I'm not trying to portray myself as someone who hasn't yet cut the apron strings. In some ways I'm not yet completely independent of my family, but there's a bond of communication that I don't ever want to lose. I talk to my friends the best I can, and my parents do not make my decisions for me (although often I do discuss troubling issues extensively with them), rather it's my parents that in many ways remain my most solid anchor for tough times....I guess it's just a tie back to the family. I can go and live abroad for a year or longer, but I still feel that bond. Yet about this it's hard for me to talk about because I feel that my life is taking me in a different direction, at least for a little bit, and I feel that I will follow it, but it also makes me sad at the same time. I guess, though I should be happy to have friends I can talk to as well as family.

It's like my young self is now as distant as a photograph sometimes. I have nothing against Catholics (or any religion or religious denomination), I'm just simply looking for what's right for me, and I ask myself, what am I trying to prove? And who am I seeking the approval of?

Hope all is well,
Tristan

And So It Goes....

2008-02-22T21:10:00.000-08:00

Dear Constant Readers,

I haven't written in my blog for a few weeks or so, so at the end of this very hectic and crazy week, here is finally something, to whom it may concern.

I started this week feeling very optimistic and productive, but somehow it didn't live up to those hopes. Not that I didn't get some stuff done, but not what I was hoping to accomplish.

A big event in my life has recently occurred. Well, maybe I should say potential big event. I have been nominated to work for two years in Central/South America with the Peace Corps. I didn't get into the program I wanted (Forestry) which was a little disappointing, but I did get nominated for a similar program, or seemingly similar one (Hygiene Education and Sanitation) which suggested I may be doing outdoor physical labor anyway, which really is what I wanted in the first place. If I officially get invited (which really I don't know if that will happen or not) I will go and not only get a chance to bump my Spanish up to possible native-near native level (it's already fluent, albeit rusty and not as idiomatic as I'd like) as well as work primarily in one of the Native languages of the area (from what I've read, most likely Quechua) which is also what I was really wanting to learn, language freak that I am.

I am nervous about it...can I live for two years in possible isolation in a culture completely different from my own with possibly no electricity, no running water, a mud/branch hut and internet/communication-to-outside-world-access-every-three-months-
if-I-am-lucky? A resounding...."Gee...." is my response to that scenario. I think I can. (I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, choo choo! -Anyone get that?-) I have thought about this before, but now that everything is becoming a reality, it's kind of a shock. But if I am given this chance, I think I really need to take it. I have been dreaming of this for years, and hell, I think it's normal to feel like this. That's a healthy sign of caution, methinks.

I still don't know what I would like to do career-wise. Earlier this week I went to a career fair and saw damn near diddly squat about anything that looked interesting to me. That's not really a surprise though since most of it was a) mostly seemed very much business office-ish like or b) pertaining to the state, and I am not seeing myself in any of those two categories. I don't just want to get out of Nebraska, but after this winter, I don't want to be in cold again.

Winter is the depression of the seasons. For those of you who have not gone through depression (and I myself have never gone through a major one, thank Jesus) it is not just being sad. It's unique. It's forgetting what it's like to be happy, and that you can be happy. You may as well be on the dark side of Mars. It is truly fucked. And this winter sometimes feels like that. Think of it like this: walking down a given street when it is so cold it hurts your nostrils to breathe in, picture yourself wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Something about that sounds utterly ridiculous, and nearly impossible, eh? And picture yourself in summer enjoying the *perfect* evening, and imagine yourself all bundled up and feeling miserable and wondering when it will end. Nah...you'd say to that person. Go and pull the other one! That's so different it's surely gonna skip me, right?

That's an idea of how depression compares to...whatever the opposite is...peace of mind, I guess. And that's how this winter has felt like. Hasn't convinced me I want to stay around at all. I do love the storms in the summer though. The thunderheads are truly God kicking up dust, so to speak.

I have returned to fiction writing, something else that I didn't get done for class this week. I missed it, I had a case of writer's block, although that doesn't sound quite right. It's just that I didn't really have any urge strong enough to make me formulate a story.

But then, sometimes a story comes to you in the form of a $69 dollar fine. My first speeding ticket did just that, surely. It inspired a story that I wrote just for...fun...venting...? A bit of both, actually. It was a story about a person who gets a ticket, but instead of going quietly, decided to give the police a run for their money, so to speak. Of course, I didn't do that, I didn't even entertain it for my own amusement at the time it (which was 1.30 in the AM near the country side), but at least a story was sparked in my imagination.

But I was writing another story (also based a true story, but not about me) however I didn't get that finished for class because this week was somehow freakishly busy. Or was it? Maybe I'm just a poor manager of time. There's probably an element of that. So I submitted my police-chase story for class instead.

Now, I am also in the One-Acts. I am an actor now, and I love it. I have for many moons wondered what it would be like to be in stage. I admire actors who do damn good jobs, particularly when beautifully pull off non-native accents, because I am so damned in love with the human voice, I guess. I can, to a point, see sounds, I sometimes think. It sounds far-fetched, but some people actually do have this talent. I wonder if I do, because some sounds trigger consistent images of colors in my head.

But yes, the play. I was recently cast in a student-directed One-Act called "The Maker of Dreams," where I am this gentleman named the Manufacturer whose job it is to unite to destined love birds who are heading in the opposite direction. I don't really have much experience with this in real life, so getting into character is kind of a challenge, but it's fun. I want to see how natural I can make it.

Sometimes I wonder, could you, sir Tristan, be an actor? What would it be like to be in the movies? Could you pull it off? Actually, sometimes I think, with some training, I maybe could. I don't know, that's what I'm doing this play for...to see if I have any skill for it, and I think I might have some. But I don't think I'd want to do that professionally all the time. Even if I was in the 1% or so to make it big, I would shun fame. I like privacy. In some ways I'm very open (as this blog has shown) but I wouldn't want to live like that.

Now I am running out the things to say. My world was twice rocked in the space of about three minutes and it threw me into a writing mood as a result. Really lit a fire under my ass, it felt like. Maybe I'll think of some way to finish my other stories for class now.

Oh, and I think I want to get into watercolor painting. I did that as a kid and didn't really like it. I thought I could pull off some Bob Ross paintery but on his show it never showed pieces of the canvas shedding away, or him accidentally poking a hole through a part of it with his brush when a lot of paint had been applied.

But I have briefly rediscovered it, and actually was quite surprised to see how fun it was. I thought it would suck, but I was wrong. I have a couple ideas for some paintings I want to do...and actually both of the come from dreams I recently had. One of them is of Trier, where I lived in Germany, which was really really recognizable in my dream. But now that I'm awake and thinking back on it, it didn't look anything like Trier. For example, and I may have just not being very alert, but I don't think there were any volcanoes where I was living. Not in that corner of Germany/Luxembourg/France.

Both dreams were incredibly beautiful though. Sleep really can be an adventure. God, I wish I could go to those worlds sometimes. Maybe that's what makes up the rafters of Heaven.

Hope all is well!

Tristan

Out of the Mirror and Through a Window

2008-01-31T20:24:00.000-08:00

Dear Constant Readers,

We see people so often we take them for granted and forget they are there, and that they don't see things the same way we do, sort of in the way perhaps we see our pets and forget they aren't actually human, but another species entirely. We just grow so accustomed to what's around us we fail to see the wood for the trees.

There was a wonderful and beautiful quote I read from an author I don't particularly like. I'm paraphrasing, but it goes something like this: How do you know what is happening to you is bad? I guess this mostly applies when people are having bad days, but the point remains: if you are going through a trial, how can you know for sure it's actually bad? We don't have foresight, we can't see what will result as a cause of this. You can take the inverse, as well, but actually I have an optimistic outlook because in my experience, things always seem to work out, and the world is built more soundly than lots of people give it credit for.

What does this have to do with my first point about people around us? This...Each one of us is completely and individual, different from everyone else. You've probably been told that since you were a child: "It's OK to be yourself." But stop and think about it for a second. Think how incredibly complex each person is.

I know that I have lived through trials and pain in my life. This of course doesn't make me unique from you, but as I have been thinking about it, this has been a journey of mine, an adventure of sorts. I don't mean to say that I enjoy pain and difficulty, or that I look forward to it, but I do enjoy learning and I enjoy challenges. But perhaps more often in life, you don't choose what will challenge you, and when that is the case, when I have the right attitude, I do look with a healthy curiosity at how I will accept and handle the challenge, and how it will help me more deeply become who I am.

I used to think that you needed to go seek another part of the world to have an adventure, but you don't. You can find challenges within yourself. Personally, I need the adventure in the world. That's why I've globe trotted, why I've lived in France, Mexico, Germany, the US, and to a lesser extent, Denmark.

Each person is a breathing archive of events, a sum of their environments but even more than that, because it is their spin on that environment. We may share the same world, but see it with our own souls.

Still, even I forget this and become selfish sometimes. I think the world revolves around me and that you are all wallpaper. It's easy for us it slip into this mode.

I'm not saying in the scheme of things we are all so small we don't really matter. I'm saying we are all priceless masterpieces, and it is the so-called "flaws" and challenges that help makes us so.

Hope all is well.
Tristan

A Road in a Misty Forest

2008-01-14T21:20:00.000-08:00

Dear Constant Readers,

Who can say what the future holds? With one semester left, what I will be doing with my life is something that...how to say this...I've been paying more attention to. I haven't been worrying about it endlessly, but I'm not quite at peace with it. But I think in such a situation, you should be. I have been making some preparations, but I don't see the need to tie up in knots. I guess one of the most important things I have learned, and I'm sure I've said it before, is that life works out if you let it. You can't predict it. It's the like expressions go: "Put your faith in God, and keep your ammo dry," or "Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition." In other words, prepare for what you can, but trust always that things will be OK. Because they will be.

But what kind of plans have I been making? Well, I'm applying for Peace Corps, so I hope that works out. It's temporary, of course, but I'm hoping it will give me some time to figure things out a bit. Eventually I'd like to go onto graduate school but I don't know what I'd like to pursue there. I've considered archeology, but I'm not sure it actually sounds like the life for me. I've spoken to a few people about it, and some of it sounds interesting, but ultimately I'm not sure it's really the life I want to lead. When I listen to my heart, I think I really just want to do something more intensely with languages. I don't know what, though.

I'm considering again being a translator, if only for a few years. I guess I just need to plan out the next five years or so anyway. Take it in more manageable bites. I suppose if I could find a job where I could travel around and learn people's languages, I would be set. If you know of such a job, drop me a comment please! That's not a joke.

I've also considered going to other countries for a stretch, especially Japan since I've had a curiosity about that place for many years now, and teaching English.

Jobs that I have considered (and rejected) at other points in my life: Being a bear. That was brief, I've never been really fascinated by bears, but my parents said I could be anything I wanted to be. Being a garbage truck driver (as a little kid, I was totally fascinated by the colors of garbage, the smell of garbage and diesel, and wondering what secret world was in the back of that huge truck with the enormous crushing jaws), firefighter, police care or ambulance driver (flashing lights, man!), or being an archaeologist. I have Indiana Jones to thank for that. It was my Coptic language class in Germany that reignited my age-old interest, but again, that's the language passion going on.

For a long time I wanted to be a movie maker. Originally I wanted to be the guy who designed the explosions for movies. Back in the days when they used more models and optical effects. I loved behind-the-scenes shows, like Movie Magic, and Hollywood's Greatest Stunts. Nowadays I prefer not to have the magic ruined for me, for example with scenes where the special effects are so thorough you don't even notice them, like how some of the dining rooms in "Titanic" were just computer images of miniatures. But I still find it beautiful...how everything comes together for a picture. I miss those old effects, computers are good, but sometimes it's so sleek it still looks cartoon-ish. I guess in a way I prefer the look of the old "Star Wars" to the new ones that tell the back story. That's the best way I can explain it.

And then I wanted to be a cinematographer, the guy who works the cameras in the movies. Maybe even the director of cinematography. In all honesty, this is by far one of my top favorite arts, and something I pay attention to more than anything else in a movie. I like angles and sweeps and rich colors, the feel the camera makes. Like the way "Fargo" looked so cold and impressive (especially well-done for a low budget movie, that was the first thing I noticed). Or how "Saving Private Ryan" and "Schindler's List" had an in-your-face gritty real look to them. Or how in "Das Boot" you really feel claustrophobic inside the tiny walls of the submarine hundreds of feet under the cold dark Atlantic with explosions rattling you.

Finally, I just decided I wanted complete control and wanted to be a director. And this is a passion I followed until I discovered languages from my auntie. And after that, well, I've traveled a good chunk of the world so far, and had great and trying experiences, and so forth. I wanted to be an interpreter for the United Nations. And I maintained that until I realized I wanted more adventure than just sitting in a booth translating other people's words.

Unfortunately, that was the last thing I really thought I wanted to be. Ever since then, I've been wandering quite a bit. I thought about being an anthropologist, or a writer for National Geographic. Even a professor of linguistics. But nothing has really come close like those earlier ideas did. I miss the simplicity of it. I have a dream, but somehow it still seems foggy (oddly, also like a dream!) I know I don't need to figure out the rest of my life yet, but I think it's human to wonder at least. What is my dream job? It involves languages, extended travel, living among cultures, getting down and dirty with them, so to speak, rather than watching them from an embassy window. I hope to be quite financially successful, but I wouldn't show it off, I just want to know I'm comfortable. I don't want that to be just the deciding factor, though. I want to spend lots of time outdoors, out in the field, in the forest, in the mountains. My dream job would involve adventure. Where is it?

Well, I guess I've spoken my piece for now. Hope 2008 is going well so far!

Oh, and I probably wanted to be a storm chaser, too. I've lived damn near most of my life in Nebraska, and have never, not once, ever seen a real, live tornado on the ground. I'm kind of disappointed by that fact, actually (as long as it's away from a populated area, of course!)

Tristan

From Out of Winter

2007-12-27T19:27:00.000-08:00

Dear Constant Readers,

First, a merry Christmas to everyone. For me the semester is over and I am at home with my family for the time being, resting up for my last semester in college.

As is self-evident from the notes I've written, this last semester hasn't been terribly easy for me. In fact it has been one of the most trying periods so far in my life.

And so it goes. Life can be a difficult from time to time. When things get hard, it is difficult to believe that life will ever get better, and when you are in misery, it's easy to forget about happier times.

But they do get better. Life is beautiful, and for all the pain there is in the world, life is a path of exploration, and full of healing power. Like the world itself, storms will pass, the sun will rise, and winter will thaw to a new beginning.

And like the world has a large population, so it is in life that we aren't alone in either good times or challenging times.

To me it a small wonder that Christmas comes at the time when it does. For many, if not most people who celebrate Christmas, it comes in the darkest, coldest time of the year, the winter solstice (ironically, not the middle of winter, in the strictest sense of the meaning, but the beginning). Apparently Christ was actually born in the springtime, but traditionally it is celebrated in December, and either if it was intentional or accidental, it strikes me as completely appropriate one of the most important times for millions of people comes at a time when the world is seemingly forgotten and alone.

I see theological meaning in this, as well, with people going through the darkness of Advent before being saved by the light of Jesus' birth, but even from a non-religious point of view, I still find this parallel interesting.

Misery does not last, although sometimes we think it does, because pain leaves such a deep impression. From a personal standpoint, I've had to recognize some problems I have and seek help to heal, and for those of you who have listened to me try to sort my life out, I thank you. Thankfully, I am on the road of healing now. It won't be an easy road, but life isn't easy. Life is supposed to be challenging, but it isn't supposed to be a misery. That is the difference. There is always hope, and there is always an improvement and healing coming. If you chop down a forest to build a road, that road's ditch and openness might be providing the necessary conditions for a plant to grow that previously could not.

So anyway, those are my thoughts for now. I plan on spending the rest of break in a fairly relaxed manner, because I know I have a busy semester coming up.

Hope all is well.

Tristan

To Tip the Scales

2007-12-10T20:29:00.000-08:00

Dear Constant Readers,

I thought that since my last few entries have been kind of heavy, I would tip the scales a bit and write some more cheerful things. I have a bit of anxiety about what the future holds, but it is a silly thing to get anxious about, I think. What if the future is an illusion? i.e. we put things off till tomorrow and yet tomorrow never really comes.

The idea of what I will do when I'm done with college is a bit of a daunting concept, but I'm not done with college yet. I've got a lot to do before that time. People say it goes fast...but it won't go any faster that time has gone for the past eternity. It's a matter of perception. Is it good when we say how fast time flies? I'm not sure, but I hear it a lot. I don't think it should really matter though, because we are in it for the long haul, and I think it's more important to work with what we can rather than be worried about a one (or a few) of a million possibilities that can be influenced by nearly anything. It is so out of our power it makes worrying about it seem kind of ridiculous. We prepare for what we can, and hope for the best. There's only so much we can do.

I have some goals this week, and I thought I'd share them. One of them was to write in my blog, so I'm doing that. :-D

I am going to get my German and Shakespeare papers done this week! (I kind of have to.) Finally after a semester of worrying about them and procrastinating (see above). I got the research done, now I just need to write them. Dr. Cognard, the Shakespeare professor, actually gave us another week today (till the 21st) but I'm still going to try to have it done by Friday.

For the first time I'm going to be getting that scary thing called a resume done. I've already begun it, and by Thursday I'm hoping to have it done. It is also necessary now because it means

I'm going to finally finish my Peace Corps application hopefully by Friday. I'm putting a lot of weight on this, which is perhaps not a good idea. I've looked into some other possibilities for work, but I'm banking on this one the most. It's kind of a scary thought, but I think I'll like it. I'm looking forward to the adventure in it, namely.

I want to get more photos put up. I still have photos from Germany (and now from America), and no, I have not forgotten them, but it takes a lot of time for me to put them up and put comments to them, and since college has begun I haven't done it or even really wanted to bother with it frankly. But I promise (to those who want to see them) I will get them up sometime soon. I see it glaring at me from my to-do list everyday.

Those are the biggies. I would like to see some movies that have been sitting on my list for a long time to watch, but I just haven't gotten around to it at all. I also have plenty of books I want to read. I'm on book five of "The Chronicles of Narnia," "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader." I began them over Thanksgiving break, so I'm making some good headway in them.

I can't think of what else I was going to say, so that'll be it for now.

I wanted to thank everyone who responded to my last entry...I wasn't really expecting so many replies, and it was really touching. Thanks! :-)

Hope all is well!

Tristan

Ugh Venting

2007-11-23T20:51:00.000-08:00

Dear Constant Readers,

The transition to adulthood can be from time to time stressful and scary. I would say "is" but it's not always like that.

But right now I certainly feel beaten down. It really seems like it's hard to get ahead in life sometimes. I just figured out to a comfortable level what it means to be an adolescent, and already I'm stepping into the adult world, and once again I feel unprepared and very vulnerable. Stressed and anxious, and full of questions. I feel at the moment so scared at somethings I don't have time to enjoy the wonder of it all. I don't know what I want to do with my life. I just got done looking through a book with a couple of pages about archeology and contact information concerning where I can gain experience. I don't know if that's the path I want. I know so little about it. But I know so little about practically everything.

And besides that, besides looking up information for archeology experience, I'm still working on gathering research for two projects, two of my final projects this semester. Once I get rolling, and I have already started with one of them, things tend to move quickly for me. But on top of that, I have to submit my proposals for my final papers for my two majors, and start researching that probably over Christmas Break. Not to mention my Peace Corps application, which is nearing completion, but still hangs over me. I decided to jet the JET program for now. I'll think about going to Japan in a few years, but right now I just didn't feel up to it.

My energy is sapped, and I need this semester to be over. I'm tired, and in mostly good spirits, but feeling overall frazzled. I really want a hug, actually. I just don't feel at rest right now, and I don't know where or who to go to. My God, I've learned so much about myself this year, and surprisingly good things, but there are still obstacles out there that try to trip me up (take that how you will), and sometimes it feels like everyday is a battle.

So this is a short note, but I needed to get this out of me.

Hope all is well,
Tristan

More Thoughts From This Side

2007-11-13T20:12:00.000-08:00

Dear Constant Readers,

The last couple of weeks I haven't written mainly because I haven't been sure what to say. There were a couple of times I felt I wanted to say something, but didn't know if I really should, or how it would sound. Which is really a silly thought. We as individuals should be free to express ourselves and how we think, and if other people don't like us being ourselves, than that is not our problem, or so I understand it.

I was thinking about writing more about religion, actually. Even though there are other things I'd like to talk about it, in my life somehow it affects much of what I do and who I am and how I try to live. The fact is, the topic is so broad, that in fact many people follow probably something of a religion, even if it is not recognized as much. I may have said already in an earlier entry that I think sports is a religion in many senses of the word, in that it has a large following, loyalty for teams unite and divide perfect strangers, people follow their teams "religiously" (no pun intended, but that term was coined for a good reason) and so forth.

Anyway, the point is is that many of us have something of religion in our life, but I'm already writing a post I didn't really want to write. In all honesty I wanted to turn the lens around and look at things around me, but in truth when I did, I saw more elements of religion, or at least spirituality, or at least faith, or at least trust in something, or at least acceptance of something, or at least some philosophical question. The other night I was having a very late dinner with a friend and she told me about how life sometimes gets so complicated, and if only things were just different somehow. And why do loved ones have to suffer alone and wonder why things are so confused and frightening, and why to good people this all happens.

These are human questions, and they need to be asked. I felt a bit empty when she asked them...I know she wasn't asking me, or even really asking, but at the same time, by observing them, I think there were questions there. I didn't have any answers. There's the old cliches about how it's all for the best, or everything in some great plan or whatever, and while I believe in master plans and am a fatalist of sorts, those are small comforts. The beach and towel surely exist and are warm and comforting, but when you are in the cold lake, it doesn't help much.

This is just how things go, and it's something everyone experiences. I think in some of our moments where we feel most lonely, we'd be surprised to see how not alone we are, in that so many others feel the same way. So why is this?

And these are questions beyond me, and no answer really answers them. They have to be learned and experienced. I guess that's part of being human.

I just read a book I initially had so little interest in reading the first time it was recommended to me I promptly forgot about it, to be perfectly blunt. It's called "Wild at Heart" by John Eldredge, and it talks about the male heart and soul from a Christian perspective. The reason I didn't pay much attention the first time around was simply because I figured it would be a rather shameless self-help book, not too insightful, and basically have the feel of TV evangelism. But while going through a hard time my friend suggested again I read it (she had never read it, but had read the version for women called "Captivating," which is equally good). So I picked it up and much to my surprise it has been one of the best books I've read. I literally could not put it down. Although I felt at first it was going to be a bit sexist, I found it to be quite down-to-earth, accurate of how I felt about a lot of things, and for a Christian book, surprisingly non-preachy, which probably would have kept me away the most. In fact, it viewed Christianity not so much as a religion (the author even mentioned problems with the Church as it is these days), but as a way of life. I'm not trying to plug the book on my blog, but I do recommend it to anyone, not as a source of spoon-feed or trick anyone into reading a religion book, but simply because I found the book quite moving and insightful, and think others might, as well.

In any case, I have found myself to be at a much more relaxed state. I've gotten over my fear of our bathtub in the apartment (something about soaking in it initially weirded me out) and have been generally in a much more peaceful state.

Not to say there are not anxieties. I've been trying to put together a college schedule for next semester, and it's proving to be a challenge to get some of the classes I wanted. For example, I wanted to take some art classes, which I never have, and it appears now I won't get a chance to do that. I feel burned out on my majors, and really don't know where I want to go with my life. I'm looking into some options to do after I graduate, but there is lots of uncertainty in my life right now, and while I don't lose sleep over it, I do feel I am in some kind of limbo.

But I've learned a couple of lessons over the years. College has been by far my most educational time of my life, and I'm sure it's no coincidence that it's also been the most challenging, scariest, and confusing time so far in my life. And it's about to end, which actually makes me feel like I'm going on a spacewalk. But one thing I've learned that gives me some solace is simply to be responsible with what is given to you, and the rest will work itself out. People stress a lot, but the world actually works out if you let it. Sounds weird, but the world is a lot better made than I've heard it given credit for. I think a lot of stress comes from people trying to control things they really cannot control, or were made to control, in the first place. We have this illusion before us that we have power, can control our careers, and so forth, but we really can't. We can choose a path, and just meet it little at a time. Just because you choose a path doesn't mean you have any control whatsoever if there is a boulder in the way around the bend, or if it starts to rain, or who else you might meet on it.

So anyway, that's what I have to say.

Hope all is well, and if it applies to you, in case I don't write again in time, have a happy Thanksgiving!

Tristan

Gratitude to a Friend

2007-10-27T20:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

It's said that comedy, in the sense of a happy ending, is tragedy narrowly avoided. How can there be a happy ending without first difficulty? How would that be a happy ending in the first place? How would the characters in the story become the mature characters they are supposed to be, or be strong enough to be able to accept the difficulties that will come, so that they can be happy later?

Healing, growing, self-acceptance is one of the hardest things to do. In some ways it's like breaking a bad habit. I recently told a friend that it has been one of the hardest habits I have ever broken, but at the same time the easiest, because there has never been something I've wanted more.

I've been going through a very, very difficult time in my life, a spiritual and mental crisis, only to discover on the other side, that I'm normal. And that there is not, and never was, anything wrong with me, and nothing at all to be afraid of.

I think there is a reason why we cannot read other people's minds, and it's not a gift I would ever want (sorry ladies, I'm not that kind of man), but if we could, I think we'd find we all share a lot of the same insecurities, even if they are somehow differently manifested. Two different stories are still, in fact the same story, in the end. Maybe fears are like that, too.

I believe in spirituality, and that it is connected to everything we do. I'm not saying what you have to believe, but this is what I do.

Crying out for help is the hardest thing sometimes, when we are even afraid of the help. But there is nothing to be afraid of. Life is like an epic, and even in those it seems that the darkest is here and there is no hope....but there is. Is it a coincidence that the stories that have survived the test of time were epics like "The Lord of the Rings," "The Chronicles of Narnia," and even books like the Bible? And is it a coincidence these works reflect our own lives and world?

I'm not speaking to just Christians or religious people, I'm talking to anyone who stakes a claim on this planet, anyone who's ever sniffed O2.

The storm passes, God helps, whoever God is. I feel I know him (I'll say him, I hope you don't mind). But you know, healing is a tough thing at times. But it's not the pain that is important. Like a friend told me: A man was walking and saw a butterfly crawling out of its cocoon. The butterfly was struggling to squeeze itself through its impossibly small hole, so the man cut open the cocoon. But the butterfly needed to squeeze throw the cocoon to complete its metamorphosis, and thus was crippled.

We have to pull ourselves through life sometimes, but every pain we go through has a reason. There are no accidents in this world. Even in a world where a terrible tragedy occurs, whatever that may be, and God, if he's so powerful and good didn't want it to happen, free will that we have allowed it, but there is still good that can come from it. We don't have the whole picture, we don't know what's on the other side of life, and in the case of death why some people are taken. But on this planet, tragedy doesn't kill us, it shapes us. I can't explain a lot of things, I can't say "Because" to a "Why". But life isn't made of up answers anymore than a river is made up of puddles.

A personal example: A couple of years ago I applied to study in Japan. It had been my dream for years. I got accepted to spend a year in Japan, and everything was in order. Maybe even God willed it, you could say.

I was set to leave in August. In late-ish June to July I discovered that I had not been awarded a particular scholarship, and thus couldn't afford to go. I was frustrated and angered and sad. It was an easy decision to make, because I simply didn't have the money, so that was considerably comforting as the majority of the weight was taken off my decision, but it was a lousy turn of events.

It was the best thing that has ever in 22 years of life happened to me. I would never trade that refusal for all the riches in the world, because I found them later, and more than I could have imagined in all the Japanese words in the world. It was because of that refusal that I met some of the greatest human beings I have ever been honored to meet, all of them who have affected more more profoundly than anything so far in my life, both in my later trip to Germany and especially here on campus. I don't even fantasize about how it would have been otherwise, had I been able to go, or chosen to. It wasn't an accident, it was a gift, and one of the best I'm sure I will ever receive in this life. My friends, even if I don't name you or list you, you know all who you are.

I've found that pray helps, I'm not ashamed to say that, although to say it publicly, I admit, does take some getting used to for me. But prayer doesn't make life easier anymore than taking Aspirin makes a wound healthier. It does, however make it easier to deal with when times are tough. I don't think we should just pray when things *are* tough, but that's often when it's most intense.

We aren't alone, even if you are not religious, that's still true. People are here, and we are social creatures. My whole life I always figured myself as a loner, and loved the remark "Every feel lonely? -Only around people" (from The Thin Red Line, by the way). Recently I discovered how much that is so untrue about myself. I hate being alone sometimes! I really really hate it. We all need me-time, but I'm a hell of a lot more social than I thought. I'll be damned.

For years I have suffered. I think it's coming to a head, or has even come to a head already. I'm glad. I'm not asking for an easy life. I want one where I am challenged. I've faced depression, heartbreak, failing grades, homesickness, loneliness, insecurity and doubt about damn near EVERYTHING (that applies to me so far in life), professional councilors, the prospect of taking medication, anger, what I believe to be spiritual attacks, guilt, and so on. And I'll be damned if I'm not just like you. We grow up thinking these things are bad. These are phases, I think. We are all at different stages of them. Losing our teeth is not bad. It's a physical phase. We all need mental and spiritual ones as well. And we all get them. And we can handle them. It's not easy, but it will pass.

We have to pull ourselves through it, ultimately we *do* have to save ourselves. But we don't have to do it alone. There is a world of difference. If we are social creatures, then we draw our strength from others as well as ourselves. But it is up to us how we use that strength, if we use that strength, and even if we seek it out.

Reality looked at straight on would drive us mad. We cannot handle reality without help. We aren't meant to, we weren't built for it. And reality is neutral anyway. We all see clouds. I see a dragon, you see a giraffe. Do we see the world for what it really is? We see what we can, but we don't have the whole picture.

I have to say, a lot of this I'm telling you was first told to me from a friend when I was going through a hell of a time...last Thursday. But we all have our own experiences and can express them uniquely. Healing can't be forced, but it can be helped along, and its own time, things do mend. And life goes one, with yes new challenges, and it's even nerve-wracking opening one's eyes after a very good day, wondering if it was just a fluke, and if more bad days are to come. It wasn't a fluke. It was a good sign you are in the right direction.

Hope all is well.

Yours,
Tristan

Tristan Needs Adventure

2007-10-16T21:36:00.001-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

First off I want to say that things are going a hell of a lot better than they were for me the last time I wrote. Much much much better, and I owe a lot of that to people who would listen some friends who I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. I still have things to...how to say it?....let heal while I contemplate life, but I'm not trying to contemplate too much, or rather, I'm trying to change the diet of the mind in what I contemplate. It's kind of like working out. It's hard when you get started, and you need a lot of encouragement from time to time, but in time, things start to take care of themselves.

Thank you, all of you who have either spoken with me, or prayed for me, or listened to me. You really are the best things in my life.

Now, while I munch this dark chocolate Snickers Mini, I wanted to say a couple of other things, in a lighter fashion.

I like making lists. I have lists for all sorts of stuff. I have lists for books I want to read, movies I want to see, an at-one-time-comprehensive list of what movies I owned including summary, awards and nominations, if I had it on DVD or VHS and so forth, and of course languages I want to learn, and in what particular order (I've re-written that one several times).

While I was out jogging yesterday, I was thinking about some of the goals I'd like to reach in life, and thought I'd write them here. I read somewhere that when you make a goal, tell everyone you can about it, because somehow that motivates you, so here goes.

Someday I'd like to run the original marathon course in Greece. This is more of a lukewarm goal at the moment, but it has stuck with me over the years since I first got the idea, so maybe there is something to it. As of now, the farthest I have ever run (that I'm aware of) in one go is 10 miles (16.1 Km.), and that was yesterday, although I've done it before. My next goal is to gradually increase that to 20 (32.2) miles, and see what happens from there. However, I'm not officially training for anything, I'm just running for fun.

Climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. That's a volcano in Africa. I know nothing about climbing, and I've read that this one is fairly easy for amateurs like myself. I think it would be a fun adventure, and it would give me an excuse to learn Swahili (as if I'd need an excuse to learn it). Still, I'd like to take some climbing lessons someday, because I'd think it would be fun, and perhaps even

Climb Mt. Everest. Fat chance, I don't really like the cold. But I hopefully have a lot of years of life left in me, and I'm open to the (eventual) possibility, however remote, of being enticed by this adventure. At the very least I'd like to visit Nepal.

Sky Dive. Definitely do this one. I don't like heights, but not to the point where it's a real phobia. Still, I'm curious about this one, and will probably jump out of an airplane. Base jumping? Maybe later, I'm not too concerned about that.

Become qualified to Night Dive, and Deep Sea Dive. I actually am already a qualified scuba diver, which is a bit ironic because I freeze my ass off in anything that's colder than bathwater, and also because I'm not a fan of being wet at all. But my sense of adventure overruled all that, and besides, I want to learn dry suit diving so I can stay warm on deeper dives.

Participate in the Iditarod. Of all of my goals, this is really perhaps the least likely, because A) I don't like the cold that much (although in fairness, I appreciate it a lot lot more than I used to, and I can see myself liking it even more. I already love the outdoors much more than I used to), and B) I'm not much of a dog person. That's probably what would get me there. But why rule it out yet? If I were offered the chance to tag along, I might take it.

Drive to Alaska. Just because.

Drive the Pan-American Highway. This road goes from the Arctic Circle of Alaska all the way to the tip of Argentina, rolling in at nearly 48,000 kilometres (29,800 miles), including the unofficial routes through Canada and the US. I've heard it takes about two years to drive, I'm not sure about that. However, apparently one fellow set a record in doing it in 24 days. I'd rather take things slower. If I can find the time to do this, and I don't see why I shouldn't, this will be a big definite.

Learn Irish, Scottish Gaelic, and Polish. The languages of my ancestry.

Learn the piano. I'm working on it, actually.

Publish a novel. I'm not too worried about this one. I love to write, but similar to running and language-learning, I don't have any professional angle in mind, so there's no real pressure.

See the Great Wall of China. Because with a list like this, you have to.

A guy I know just rode his bike from Nebraska to San Fransisco. Maybe I'd like to do that, too, but we'll see. Chalk that up to "maybe."

I could list off the languages I want to learn, but that would be silly, and kinda against my principles. I do in fact have a set number in mind, but I don't plan on stopping at that number, it's just a goal to shoot for for the time being. When I learn as many languages as I hope to, I actually don't want anyone to know about it. What I mean is, I'm not doing it for attention. Today a classmate of mine was impressed when a girl in our class said she learned Spanish from her mom and had taken a semester of German and a semester of French, in addition to her English. To that classmate, that was surely impressive, and that's fine. I didn't see it as prudent to open my mouth and say what I could have said. It would have cheapened all of my hard work and passion, plus what the girl said wasn't wrong at all. She's already accomplished more than what many people will.

Retrace Lewis and Clarke's trail. I've heard of people doing that. I'd also like to retrace the Oregon Trail. Those are things I'd like to do, but aren't really goals yet.

Retrace Marco Polo's trail. Is this possible? I don't know. Perhaps not. But if it were, it could be fun.

Become more of an outdoors man. That means, learn about outdoor survival, and take in more scenery. Maybe this fits me since one thing I'd like to do is visit Canada and Alaska.

Well, anyway, these are some of the things I'd like to do. Not all of them are official goals yet, but more like dreams. Some of them have higher priority than others. I have a few ideas about the kind of life I want to live, and I don't want it to be clean, wear a suit, 9:00-5:00. I recognize the importance of work, of course, but I don't see why it has to be something everyone else is doing. I don't know what I want, maybe I want to be an archaeologist, though. Perhaps I could get some of these goals in there with that profession. When I think about how I'm shaping my life, one thing to me is apparent. I really need adventure, at least for the time being. I need to get out of here. Out of Nebraska, and out into the paths less traveled. I really have to do that.

Hope all is well.

Tristan

Through Mountains and Fog

2007-10-05T22:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

Initially, I wanted to write about a post a week. I still have not given up on this goal, but it seems to be one that for some reason has been hard to meet. But the last few weeks have been very tough for me. Considerably so. I've been stressed out with school, I've been stressed with myself, I've been torn by worries and anxieties. So a) I'm trying to vent this all and b) I'm trying to put it behind me and move on with life.

I hold onto things to tightly. I dwell on things, and when I get an notion in my head I obsess over it. Sometimes I think an obsession can be good, at least within boundaries. I am shameless over my obsession with languages, as I've written about many times here, but I also recognize the fact that there are other things in life. I'm learning the piano; I'm (trying) to get into working out more, and of course I have my course work. I have my friends to stay in touch with, which I think is probably more important than all of these others. Languages don't fulfill me, and I doubt none of this other stuff can either. I could speak a thousand, or compose beautiful symphonies (fat chance though, I don't have much of an interest in that) or whatever, but when I'm having a bad day, they aren't going to put their arm around me and cheer me up.

I haven't stayed in very good touch with a few people: Maren, Dylon, Judith, for example. I'm not going to go through lists tonight, but even if I don't say your name, I still think of you, Ily and Elena, for example.

Not all of this is my fault, but if I haven't been making a good effort, I apologize. But on the other hand, I'm not going to fret over it. I can only try so far, and the rest is up to the others. I can't rule people's lives for them, the way I think they should live it. I've tried it before, and it's a selfish, ugly thing to do. What I want to do now is try to be a kind person when they need one, if they should happen to open up to me.

I skipped my German homework last night, and instead drank some beers and had a barbecue with my roommates and some friends. It fuckin kicked ass, I dare say. This semester I'm sick of a lot of bullshit. I'm sick of classes, and stressing over my classes in Germany is now a lesson learned, because really, it turns out it didn't matter anyway. With the classes I have now, I'll get the work done, I always do, and doubtless there'll be some stress, but I'm not going to make it any worse than it is. I have to give a presentation about Germany at the end of this month, and I have been tempted to say, "I didn't go there just so I could get in front of a group of people to talk about it!! You go and have your own experiences!" Ahhh, that felt good. Now, I'm all for the spreading of knowledge, especially about other cultures, but I felt irritated that I was being told about certain things I might be expected to address. Ultimately, they might help give me some guidance, but at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if I jettisoned a lot of those questions.

I give up. I have been trying to sort shit out in my life and analyze myself and figure out why this bothers me or that upsets me or why I feel like crap a lot. I can't do it on my own. I'm talking to someone now just to get a professional opinion about why I'm so tense and anxious. Why am I? I don't think it matters. I think it's because I just get obsessive and convince myself to worry or that something is the matter. Anyone else have days like that?

The last few days I have been trying to ignore a lot of things I've been worrying about, and actually I feel better now. But it's hard, it's so motherfucking hard to do. But you know, you can't win battles like this in a few days. I want the self-confidence not to worry, to believe in myself and follow my instincts, not to have that little drone in my head going "Uh-uh. I'm gonna make you doubt yourself, you cheeky little fucker" (reels me back in with fishing rod).

I am a healthy person. I just need that healthiness to grow inside of me, and plow through these weeds of confusion. But I can feel it inside of me. It's like a lantern in the fog.

I want PEACE of mind. Someone, I'm told, once drew a picture of peace being a raging waterfall with a little branch sticking out of the cliff side where the water was frothing over. On the end of the branch was a bird, just minding its own business, couldn't-be-bothered. I want to be like that. I can't control the world, but I want to be at peace with myself, and I'm working really hard at it. Ironically, it's like something you have to work really hard at not working really hard at. If you work too hard at it, you stress at finding peace. Maybe it's kinda like the Tao.

If you pray, give me your prayers. (Or if you have money, give me your cash, I'll take that too! :-P)

Hope things are going well. I'm going to go to bed and have a nice weekend.

Yours,
Tristan

Still Goin'

2007-09-25T21:30:00.000-07:00

Dear Constant Readers,

Last week was one where I felt a bit overwhelmed with homework, anxieties, angst, just a bit of everything. Things have kind of been rather exhausting for me, enough to have reduced me to tears a couple of times. I took some career consoling to see what might be good for me down the road. It wasn't really a surprise when the tests told me I have a rather narrow field of interests. I've known this my whole life. Nothing on the list of suggested careers really jumped out at me, either, however in the state I've been in for the past couple of weeks, I have a hard time picturing any career jumping out at me saying "Here I am!" Some of my friends seem to be figuring things out. I don't want to compare myself to them, but at the same time, to hear about things falling in place for them, it makes one wonder, "Is my time ever going to come?" I suppose it will, but I have a lot of shit to get together before I can start to figure out what is right for me.

On the other hand, I do have some ideas of what I might like. Archeology or anthropology are interesting to me. Writing is, as well, but not as a profession. So I was a bit stunned when the career test said I would be most suitable as a musician. Aside from wanting to learn the piano, which I am doing, I have really no active interest in music, choreography, composing, or so forth. Not an inkling other than a *nuance* at best of curiosity.

But regardless, the piano is going well for me. It's a beautiful new challenge, and unfortunately I didn't get a good chance to practice today. But I am enjoying working my way through my exercises under the guidance of a music major on campus. She told me I am progressing fast and seem to have natural rhythm; on the other hand my finger posturing needs some work. But this hasn't hindered me from learning "Hickory Dickory Dock" or "Pop! Goes the Weasel". I'm enjoying this change of pace for me, and look forward to more complicated pieces. However, last night I found myself equating language to it as well: learning the grammar of the piano, but in my philosophy, grammar is ultimately as limited as a pile of bones, and so look forward to creating some more complex sounds.

Things are going OK at the apartment, despite the fact that I am sometimes amazed, sometimes frustrated by my roommates' approach to life. The one that I spend the most time with, I admire is lack of stress level, but sometimes think it's too much of a lack. There's too little structure for me; if I lived the way he did I'd go nuts for not having something of a plan to get stuff done instead of a by-the-moment manner.

Off of that, I've started taking my lists more seriously to get stuff done. I find that they are helping me, too. Last weekend I ended up having the apartment to myself, so I got quite a bit of homework done, got the bathroom clean, and went to a movie by myself ("3:10 to Yuma"). I have always disliked going to movies by myself, but I think I can start getting into it more now: It seems that my taste in movies have more than not strayed away from my family's and friends' anyways.

I have also been working out more: Today I ran 9 miles, and I've been doing sets of push-ups, crunches, and leg lifts everyday. However, I don't think my body is used to this, or doesn't want to go at the rate I'm pushing it, because on Saturday I hurt my arm. Consequently I think I'm going to cut back from daily to every other day after my arm stops hurting. It's good to have the mornings to do other things, though. I like working out to wake up, I'm finding, but I'm also using it to do a bit more reading. Earlier this week I finally read "The Lord of the Flies" after years of wanting to read it. I will say it was a well-written book, but I was hoping for more of an adventure story. Currently I'm not sure what to do next. My options are: read another book I've been wanting to for years, namely "King Solomon's Mines", or continue reading a book I've already chosen to read in Esperanto, to further improve my knowledge of the language. I don't feel fluent in it yet, but I think I know basically all I need to know to get there, I just need the practice, now, and I can't find it. I had wanted to see if I could find a group in a nearby town to meet and speak with, but as busy as I've been, that would probably cause me more stress than it's worth. So I'm on my own again, which in some ways is how I prefer it, at least once in a while. My third option is to continue with my Norwegian, and this is what I'm considering, because, as with my Esperanto, I think I can get to a good level just with my grammar book, and from there, it'd just be active practice, not so painful. But the deciding factor will be how much time I have, so it might be a mishmash of all of the above. Hopefully it will be at least some of it. I need a break from the grind of this work I've been doing.

I've been wanting to write more creatively, outside of my blog. I've started putting a few things on paper, hoping that maybe hand-writing will jog my mind a bit.

In the midst of the chaos of confusion in my life, there is something I found that I want to point out: Things always work out in some way. Even I have a hard time believing it, but they do. This universe isn't ours, but we are here regardless, and somehow, if you give things a chance, I think they'll work out. I guess that means to me that there's either a loving God or that the earth is better-made than people give it credit for. Either option I find comforting.

I'm still not feeling it with the notes. Sometimes I write something and think I've really spoken my heart. With the last few entries I haven't felt that. I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong. Maybe I'm listing things too much, instead of pouring my heart out. Maybe some people wouldn't want to hear that anyway. I guess right now there are probably things I just don't want to put out there, at least not until I find out better who I am. Lately I haven't been sure of that. I've somehow/somewhat lost track of who I am and what I believe, and I don't know why.

Hope things are well.

Tristan