Moving day...

Today is moving day. Moving day #1, that is... and despite waking up very early (7:30am) and getting started almost immediately, I am only now finishing up. The clock says 5:24 pm. That means it took me a little less than 10 hours to pack up the life I had made for myself here in a year and a half. Would you say that is a lot, or a little?

As I'm sitting here now waiting for the owners to show up to look at the apartment and return my deposit, it feels so normal to me to be moving. Maybe the fact that I still have 2 weeks left here makes it that I don't feel sad, I mean I'm not leaving yet, I'm just moving house. And I'm ready to leave the apartment. For the past couple of months it has been nothing but noisy neighbors and now looking out of my door I have a view of a lovely cellphone tower that if I stretched my arm just a little farther than normal could quite literally touch. Ok, that's a slight exaggeration, but it is literally in my backyard.

But like I say, this is only move number 1. In 14 days I get to make move #2... and I'm not so sure its going to go as well as this one...

A little pessimism from a pessimist...

So the end is nigh (yes, I just said nigh) and it puts me in a very weird mood. Almost surreal... and bittersweet. It feels like there is no end, and yet I have to pack and go through 4 semesters of saved papers and homework. I'm going through the motions of yet again packing up my life and yet in the moment I feel like I'm doing it for no particular purpose at all. And then there are days when I wake up sad and spend 70% of my waking hours with tears in my eyes or streaming down my face. When I can't even think about, let alone look at, certain people because I end up using an entire roll of toilet paper just trying to make the waterworks stop. And then there are days, like today, when it all feels like a total reality. I'm packing up just like I did in January of 1999 to move to the United States, or in July of 2004 to move to Mars Hill. I'm sorting through homework and books just like I did in May 2008 when I left Mars Hill and moved to California. Funny, moving from California to Costa Rica never produced that 'I'm moving again and leaving people behind' feeling in me. And now, once again, I'm moving, and this time it really hurts, because I know this could be the end. This could be the last time I get to pack up and move on a whim. This is the last time I get to study anything (other than a doctorate... or another masters). This is when I have to grow up, fast, get a job, make a life, and begin the monotonous 8-5, 8-5, 8-5.

We spend our whole lives in school waiting for the day we finally get out and can be our own people, and then we find ourselves wasting away behind a computer at a desk that isn't ours, in an office that we didn't pay for, under a boss who we inevitably despise. And that to us is living?

I guess you can say that I woke up cynical today. Or maybe that just comes from a pessimistic personality. I should be excited to begin a new chapter in my life: no more homework; I can actually CHARGE for my translations now. And yet, the only thing I can think about, is having to leave behind people who have grown into family, knowing that in all probablility, in a year's time we will no longer have that relationship, and also leaving behind the one guy who was able to make an optimist out of a pessimist. The worst part of all is knowing that the time apart is going to be indefinite. And honestly, how many can say they know of a long distance relationship that worked out in the end? Seriuosly, if you do I'd like to hear stories! haha

Thesis Defense: Check!

I feel like I was counting down forever until the day of my thesis defense. I remember saying at the beginning of the semester: only 4 months until I defend! Aaaah! Then in August: 3 months left, I hope I'm ready. Then in September: wow, I can't believe there are only 2 months left... it's getting close; I'm getting nervous. Then in October: 1 month aaaah! Start practicing. Then... three weeks, two weeks, one week, bam! Thursday the 11th, 6pm. I begin, I speak, I defend, and then... it's over. All that time spend preparing, practicing, being nervous and before I knew it, almost as if I was on auto-pilot, it was over. A year and a half worth of work presented and defended in 50 minutes. And I kicked butt. Or at least that is what they told me. To be honest, I hardly remember it. I remember the first question, but from there nothing. I remember thinking when I arrived at the last part of my presentation, the conclusions: wow, that was quick, I hope I didn't speak to fast, was that really 23 minutes like I'd practiced it? Truth is, we spend so much time stressing and being nervous for something that will signify an end, in this case the end of a Master's degree in Translation, and what it all boils down to is 50 minutes of our lives.

And then it was over and I was left thinking: how anti-climatic. Now what? I have a week left of classes, final papers and final exams, but nothing holds the same weight to me anymore. I conquered my thesis defense. I defended my work with pride. What difference does a 5 minute oral exam in a Simultaneous Interpreting class really make? A week left of classes and its out into the real world, to once again begin fighting for my place in society. Isn't it strange, how it turns out that change really isn't that different after all?

Mommy came to visit me this past week. It was Mom's first time down in Costa Rica; she came down for my defense and we spent the week together doing touristy things. We went to the museums in San Jose, and drove up a very bad road to Poas volcano, only to see... clouds. And we went on the Cafe Britt coffee tour: definitely the highlight of her trip. Free coffee always makes me happy ;-). Mommy got to meet my old host family after so many years, she got to meet Rolito and his parents, and I finally got to show her the country that I love so much, my home away from home. My heart.

And now, as this chapter is closing in my life I get the exciting job of writing the next one. A job? A family? A new car? A new city? Not knowing the future is scary but exciting. Its like a suspense movie, a thriller. I don't know whether to cover my eyes with my fingers or clutch the hand beside me, my heart is racing as I try to predict what happens next. But we can never really know, because there is always a twist.

Pocket Change...

"The key to change... is to let go of fear."

We have heard it said many times that the only certainties in life are death and taxes. And change. Regardless of how hard we fight for things to always stay the same, change is inevitable, and truth is, 9 times out of 10 the change is better than anything we were trying to hold on to. So is this a brilliant epiphany? Or simply a realization of something I really knew all along and just chose to ignore?

The first example I would like to draw on is my thesis. At the start of semester three of working on what is to be the culmination of two years of diligent studying to obtain a Master's degree, my thesis lector told me straight out: This is crap. You need to reorganize it or else it doesn't make sense. (Ok, ok, clarification: he didn't actually say the word 'crap' but he did tell me it was very badly organized and didn't follow logically). I was... overwhelmed. How was I going to reorganize a work of over 100 pages in just a short couple of weeks to be able to turn it in for its first final revision? I complained, I was stressed, I drank an incredible amount of coffee, and the I complained some more, and at the end of those two weeks, my thesis turned out ten times better than it ever was before the change.

Change is always scary. But it is very seldom bad.

I have realized this now because recently in my life there have been many changes. And I tried so hard to avoid them that I lost sight of... everything. And especially, of who I was. Just months after moving to Costa Rica I met who would become my best friend. At first the friendship was normal, we played basketball, watched sports, he invited me for lunch with his family or to watch movies. But somewhere along the line the friendship took a turn towards unhealthy, and one day it left me completely devastated and him completely undeserving and unappreciative of me.

How it reached this point is still a mystery to be, but it became an obsession. As a friend I trusted, he somehow managed to take control of every aspect of my life. Who I was with, where I went, when I saw him. At his asking, I would change anything I had already planned just to spend the day, again, with him. I was obsessed with making him happy and he was obsessed with controlling me and lying. Looking back now, I knew all along they were lies, but I chose to blind myself to them so that things would not change. I had my perfect little family in Costa Rica. Los cuatro fantasticos. Every Sunday we would watch the NFL, throw the football, spend hours together. And accepting the reality of what was happening would have changed all that. I would have been left watching football alone on Sundays, no one to throw the ball to, no one to make me laugh until I snorted or to hit when they said something ridiculously stupid. I was so afraid of how lonely my life would be without them that I ignored all the signs and continued forward naively down a path I knew could only lead to tremendous pain.

Of course the inevitable happened and there was really only one path left to take: end any remote spark of a friendship that had once been and... accept the change. And what has happened in my life since making that decision is so much better than what I had before. I met someone so much more worth my time, someone I never gave an honest chance to before because of my unfounded obsession. After months of severing all contact, I have finally overcome the chains he had me under and we have started again, because at one point the friendship was too beautiful to destroy. And I am happy. Uncontrollably happy. I wake up smiling and I go to bed thanking the Lord for the change that I was too scared to embrace.

Honestly, I am a very private person. Very few people, if any, know exactly what happened and I like it that way. Its easier to forget it. And I'm independent. But not in the good way. I don't ask for help, ever, and if I had, none of this would have happened. But we live, and we learn, and as long as we learn not to make the same mistake twice, we'll come out triumphant and in the end we'll be better because it all.

~para mi Rolito, gracias por hacerme tan feliz.

Dear America...

Dear America,

STOP TRYING TO PLEASE EVERYONE AND STAND UP FOR YOURSELVES.

Sincerely,

A-soon-to-be concerned citizen.

This morning, while wasting time because I was unable to sleep, I read something that at first made me roll my eyes, and then made me wonder why the US doesn't realize that 1. they are the laughing stock of the world at the moment and 2. they are setting themselves up to be destroyed as a country. What was it you may ask? The headline: Spat errups on 'The View'. The picture, which caught my attention was of Bill O'Reilly and the older redheaded View hostess... My first thought was "oh great, now what did O'Reilly say?" But after reading the article I have to say, I agree with him. Yes, we all love to hate O'Reilly, but he is one of the few public figures that could give a sh*$ about being politically correct, an American concept that will lead to its demise as a world power, and later as a nation.

The topic turned to the Mosque that is planned for Ground Zero and when asked why he was against it, Bill replied "Because they killed us on 9/11". Was he wrong? Was it another extremist religion that flew two gigantic feul-filled airplanes into the World Trade Center buildings at the busiest time of the morning when the most people would be killed? If I'm wrong, please correct me. Here in lies the problem: America wants so badly to make everyone happy that they are willing to "re-write" history so that it doesn't make any one side look bad. Instead of being Muslim extremists, now they are just "extremists" as Whoopi put it, so as not to point a figure. I really wouldn't be surprised if one day someone were to actually say: well, we sort of deserved it.

Let me clarify that yes America protects the right to practice any religion, and I am NOT in ANYWAY saying Muslims do not have the right to build a Mosque. I might not agree with their beliefs, but according to the Constitution they have as much right to be there as us Christians do, what I DO NOT agree with is the slap in the face that building a Mosque right at Ground Zero will give to all the families who lost loved one's that day. How fair is that? Why will someone not stand up and say: by all means, build your Mosque, but go build it somewhere else. The AMERICANS who lost their lives that day deserve more respect than to be remembered by a building being built for the very extremists that killed them that day. And that is what happened: 9/11 was the mass murder of more than 3000 unsuspecting, innocent individuals simply because the Muslim extremists did not, do not, BELIEVE in the politics of our United States.

America, instead of cowarding behind words of BS political correctness, stand up for yourselves. No one deserves the beating that America took on the 11th of September, regardless of what they stand for. Don't remember those innocently killed by erecting a place of worship to the very people who pray for the fall of this great country.

Yes, I am criticizing. And yes, this may offend some of you. I am not apologizing for anything I've said. I am taking a stand for the country I want to live in for the rest of my life, because if someone doesn't do it, this country will cease to exist in its entirety.

Original article: http://social.entertainment.msn.com/tv/blogs/tv-buzz-blog.aspx?blog=1746&feat=1b4206e4-4fc8-4e99-a8e8-5dc25c71c760&GT1=28103

Home is what the heart grows accustomed to...

This afternoon I asked myself the question, How the hell do I leave? My flight "home" to California is in exactly 3 months from today. 3 months. Thats just 91 days; 5400 hours. That's just a season, like Spring or Summer; a quarter of a year; only 3 new moons. How do I give this up?

I've tasted independence, adulthood. I've grown a love for this country that I have never experienced anywhere before. And even if I complain daily about the black soot clouds rising from the back of cars that should have been yanked off the road decades ago, there is a charm to Costa Rica that is hard to beat. Where else will I find the warm friendliness that surrounds me in any tico home I may enter? Where else will I become part of a new family, accepted equally by grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, nephrews?

How do I pack up the life I have build in the past two years?

But what makes this life any different? Why is this one so hard to give up?

I remember crying the first time I left Costa Rica in 2007. I cried so hard as the plane took off that the woman beside me asked if I was having a panic attack. I cried so hard my eyes were still red as I walked off the plane at LAX. And that was only after a stay of 5 months. I promised I would come back, and I did. Can I promise the same thing again?

Sitting here now, thinking about the day I'll get on the plane with an 'indefinite goodbye' drying on my lips, my eyes well up. This is my home. This is where my heart is.

A country with the longest lasting tradition of peace and that for centuries hasn't had or needed a military. A country of unprecedented scenic beauty in its mountains and beaches, volcanos and waterfalls. A country with potholes so big an entire car can vanish from sight; where a 4 km drive by car can take up to 15 minutes by bus. A country that after 50 years of planning finally builds a decent highway from its capital city to the closest beach, but then opens only two lanes, when road traffic has more than doubled since the year they began planning. A country where an avocado can cost less than 20 cents and where mangos rot on the ground because people can't eat them fast enough. A country whose local football league plays worse than a pack of monkeys, but whose fans bleed purple, or red and yellow, or red and black. A country where instead of having a Starbucks on every street corner, there is a church... even if its Catholic. A country that wholeheartedly believes in God.

This is my home. And yet part of me is scared I might not even miss it.

Ode to the first 8 months of the year...

Wow, hello mid-September. Where the hell did you come from? Gone is August and the start of my fourth (and final) semester. Gone is month 1 of the last 5 months I will ever (possibly) spend at a university. Gone is month 2 of my new (and somewhat exciting) job of being an English teacher. Gone are the 7 looooooong months spent waiting for the new NFL season to begin. Gone is the first week of the 2010 season. Gone, again, is September 11, thankfully with no repeat of that terrible day that we all no doubt remember like it was yesterday. And gone, as well, is the 12th, 13th, and 14th (although, I really don't know of anything exciting that has happened previously on those days hehe).

September 15. In Costa Rica and I believe all of Central and some of South America today is Independence Day. As in the US, every store, house, car, post box, light post, etc. has the Costa Rican flag displayed from it. Families are getting together for lunch; everyone has the day off. There are parades during the day (there was even one at 5:30 this morning I believe. I did not see it, I was just awoken by the heavy beating of drums and wind instruments), fireworks at night, food as far as the eye can see. I suppose every country celebrates their independence in a similar manner. And today is gorgeous. The sky is a blue I haven't seen since the rainy season began 6 months ago, the clouds are white and puffy and not gray and menacing (although I don't know how long that will last for). Sitting in my room, I hear my neighbour's music. Everything just seems different today. Uplifing. The world, or at least Costa Rica, is happy.

In other news, I have a date for the final presentation and defense of my thesis: November 11. Just less than 2 months away now. Have a set date makes the time between now and then seem waaaaay less though. When I think about what I still have to do: present the first final draft to my tutor, make the corrections he suggests, turn in a second draft, correct the translation yet again, turn in a final draft... and then, I present and have two weeks to again make corrections before turning in the final final draft. All of that before the end of November. And just in case you think there can't be that many corrections: my translation is 85 pages and my analysis close to 100. Of course maybe I did everything right the first time around... ha, wishful thinking.

Thankfully, the other 3 classes I have are very non-demanding this semester, so I can focus more of my time on making sure my thesis is 100%. And of course it gives me the extra time to work without going out of my mind. I'm enjoying teaching, all except 1 course that is. Adolecents aren't the greatest age, and with my utter lack of patience, we don't get along all that well. I think we've come to a mutual agreement: you talk your junk in English and I won't hassle you; lets just get through the next hour and a half and we'll all be happier for it. All of my classes are a different levels of English, which is somewhat a challenge. Its hard to go from one class with which I can speak perfect English and a normal pace, to having to explain everything in very short sentences and even Spanish, to once again being able to speak semi-normal English with very little or next to nothing of Spanish and then the next day having pure pure beginning where everything little topic is a challenge to get across, for example the verb To Be (I am, you are, he is etc.) and then to complicate matters even more, making QUESTIONS with the verb to be! (am I, are you, is he?). Just when they finally understand to use 'are' with 'you' they get the question where ___ your pencil? and suddently it isn't 'are' but 'is'. Ask me to explain THAT difference! Its fun though, as I have to start thinking about all the rules for English grammar that I have taken for granted since I was, well, born. Its fun though, and I really don't think I could have picked a better part time job while I was here...