When times stops.

My Uncle Endang passed away today. He was in a motorcycle accident recently, got a concussion, was in a coma, and seemed to be doing okay and then just wasn't.

I don't know how to react in situations like this. When some conversation leads to the air suddenly leaving the room. My muscles are stunned into a blank space. Everything turns blinding white. I don't know what to do or what to say. Sometimes I cry, but mostly I just need to feel something solid underneath my feet and I leave.

I panic.

Binge-eating Cheddar Bunnies

I am so nervous about all this paperwork for South Korea and I'm taking it out of these poor, defenseless creatures.

I sent out my "red documents" today and my recruiter emailed me about public school positions starting in November and December. Great except I need 2 letter of recommendation plus a "PTE" (Proof of Teaching Experience). I have one letter of recommendation but it doesn't have a professional letter head. A public school position would be ideal but I realize given the timing of my application, a public school position is unlikely. This is why this is an amazing, rare opportunity. I emailed people about the letters but I don't know how likely it is to get a response in time. I can't even concentrate on studying Spanish right now. Blergh

The definitions of words.

I'm turning 26 tomorrow. It's a weird feeling getting older. It's not a bad feeling, to be quite honest, I get more and more excited about life the older I get. I know we have this idea that getting older is a sign of weakness. I know plenty of people still clinging to the invincibility they felt in their teenage years, trying to relive "the glory days" of their youth but I guess my youth was not that glorious. But getting older, nonetheless, is strange. I feel like by now I should be able to call myself an adult. By society rules and laws of being considered a dependent on your parent's medical insurance and car rental agreements, I'm an adult. But I don't necessarily feel that way. I guess I still believe the idea of mid-twenties as it was seen fifty or more years ago. That I should be settled in a career, starting a family and such. I'm not as bothered by it as I used to be but I still wonder if I can consider myself an adult-- a self-sufficient, fully functional human being of society. But if I think about the realistically these days, when do you ever stop needing help? I realize this ties into a much larger discussion about community and society and helping one another, but where is that line?

I guess I'm feeling this way since I've been home without a job and my parents are supporting and throwing me some pity money so I don't go to crazy with cabin fever.

Maybe I feel better once I start working again, have my own medical insurance and can afford to pay my bills without having an panic attack about money, I'll rest a little easier.

Trying to remember why my memories were so great.

Being back in Boston has been a weird experience. It's been great seeing old friends but it feels like so much has changed. I feel like I don't belong here anymore. I thought I missed it so much but I guess in comparison with my life over the past couple years, my world has expanded so greatly that Boston seems to be a little blip. I guess the question that remains is: where do I belong?

I'm ready to head to South Korea and keep looking.

Hormigas en mi culo. Ants in my...you know where.

I know I must be very frustrating to my family and friends. They should know by now that I've never been one to sit still. I can't stand being in one place for too long with the same people for too long. I get uncomfortable, agitated, and feel trapped. I guess you could call it something like cabin fever. I think spending so much time at home all the time when I was a kid made me this way. But actually I've always been like this. Ever since I was a kid I was always wandering off and doing things on my own. It terrified my parents, of course, but I did it regardless. I need to be somewhere I have a lot of freedom. Freedom to walk, freedom to explore on my own, freedom to see friends when I want to, not according to anyone's schedule but mine and my friend's. I guess in that way I'm selfish. It's not personal to anyone. I feel this way with everyone and everywhere. I need my me time and me time doesn't just mean being by myself. It means mental and physical distance not just from people but from a place.

I wonder what this means for any potential suitors. That what I always think of when someone inquires about me (for marriage, I mean). For example, an older guy asked my father about whether I would be interested in him or not. Age aside, I know my personality is too crazy to settle down in quiet little Western Massachusetts. If I were to marry a man settled in a place like this I think I might actually go crazy and make married life hell. I itch to move, I want to run. I always like being somewhere I know I can easily leave. I can't help but need to always have something new. I need someone who can keep up because I can't slow down. Just because I seem so flighty doesn't mean my absence is permanent, as long as there are people I love, I always come back. 

It's just who I am.