Sleepless in Springfield.

How long can one stare at the dimly lit shadows of your childhood bedroom before your mind and body give up out of sheer boredom? Apparently a long time. There's just too much on my mind lately. I have been stressing out over this job situation. I've been waiting for 3 months for South Korea and I just don't know if it will pay off. I started applying to other positions a couple weeks ago and I've been offered a position in Russia. I don't know if I should take it. I've wanted to go to Russia for a long time now but I have put so much time, money, and energy into SK that I want to feel it's worth something. Plus I would really like to go back to school. SK would help me get there a lot faster even though I think I would much rather enjoy Russia.

You know that question people ask about changing one thing about yourself? I wish I could be less emotional. I know I shouldn't say things like that but I really do. I can't help it. It's like a wave that consumes you and you don't know how to swim so you struggle until it washes you ashore. I really wish that sometimes I could switch off my emotion center of my brain and not care or at least be better at hiding my emotions. I would sleep so much easier.

I really do feel like Kolya sometimes. A lost, helpless little kid who doesn't understand anything about the real world. Maybe it's just because I'm still in my childhood bedroom.

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. 

Rocket launchers and sailboat crew.

This summer my older sister Kyla asked me to take care of her 1-year-old son, Anas, a few days a week since the babysitter requested Ramadan off. The boy is cuter than a box of puppies and I wanted to help out around the house so of course I agreed to fulfilling my aunt duties. I did, however, have my hesitations. I've taught children before and made sure they didn't injure themselves or each other for 45-minutes once a week but I've never cared for a single child for an entire morning.

"Don't worry," Kyla said. "I'll be up to feed him breakfast and then you can get him dressed and play with him, give him snacks when he asks for them." Those issues were the farthest from my mind. Dressing a kid, I can do. I tell my students all the time to put their shirts back on and to pull up their pants and help with the occasional shoe. Playing with a kid...that's my job. Giving him snacks...I can cut grapes and pour out peanuts and cheerios. I was not worried about that part. The diaper changing and my gag reflex when it comes to human feces and the constant crying and trying to put a less-than-willing toddler down for a nap were all different stories.

The first day was okay minus the fact that I forgot to change him out of his pajamas all day. Worse things could have happened. Days passed by and I found his unending energy was a lot to handle while fasting and trying to feel awake at 8:30 in the morning with my usual caffeinated aid. I tried my hardest nonetheless, finding games to play that both of us could enjoy equally. The Sleeping Game is a favorite of mine. I "pretend" to fall asleep, as does he, and within a minute or two the silence is too much and he squeals out of delight and we start the game all over again. I also enjoy pulling him around on his tricycle outside and making pitstops at pretend shops around town so aunty can catch her breath and not overexert herself while fasting in the the humid New England summer.

Last weekend, my younger sister came home for a visit. Amber and I are close so I was excited to see her but a little someone was way more excited to see her. As soon as she came home, all you could hear were shouts of "Aunty Bee! Aunty Ambee!" No more shouts and giggles of "Aunty Ah-wee?" No more interest in popping his head in my room, ogling me and then running out of the room giggling. My hug requests were rejected. My lego ships were uninteresting. My attempts at Little Piggies were denied and requested by another. It was the longest weekend of abandonment. I sought solace in my room and books and in the company of other members of our family. I should have learned through countless experiences by now not to get too attached to people.

The weekend came and went and Amber went back to her apartment in Boston and I was faced with the challenge of trying to be an rational adult and still do my best job as caretaker. I decided to take Anas out for a few walks so he didn't bother my sleeping father and brother-in-law too much. I got him dressed after an agonizing 45 minutes of trying to convince him to eat his breakfast, packed some snacks, put on some baby sunblock and headed out into the neighborhood. I took him around as he named everything he could remember, avoiding holding my hand to point out things and ask what they were. He pointed out the beautiful flowers and the various fascinating bugs, waved to school buses and acknowledged each animal "over there." We arrived home later and my father put him down for his nap.

I took a break to take a nap myself and later in the evening when my mother and sister came home from work, I woke Anas up to greet his favored family members. I collapsed on the couch next to my mother as my Kyla went downstairs. Anas climbed on the couch in between us. He went over to nana, fell onto her, hugging her and said, "I love you, nana." Just stab me in the heart. Then he got up, turned to me and collapsed on me, hugging me and said, "I love you, Aunty Ah-wee." My exhaustion faded and I said, "I love you too, Munchkin." He got up from my lap, turned toward his nana and repeated the hugging and "I love you" process between the two of us four times for good measure before scampering off to find his trucks.