Real-Talk Time

12 August, 2013

Since I've started this blog I have filled your head with photos and ideas of what my current location is like. I've showed you the faces of the people I'm around every day. I've briefly (very briefly) described my adventure play by play...but I have yet to inform you of what's going on in my mind...like...what's really going on in my mind. 

So. With that being said, I have started a new part of my blog called Real-Talk Time...and I'll number it as I upload each entry (ex: the next time I get personal the title of the entry will be Real-Talk Time #2, then the next #3, etc...) Real-Talk Time is a place that I can dump out all my emotions. It's therapeutic for me...and could be entertaining for you...And who knows, maybe even helpful/useful/inspiring/whatever...But just know that this is basically a personal diary, and the Peace Corps is not responsible nor necessarily condones anything I say or feel. 

Okay. Lets talk.

I've been on an entirely new continent for exactly two weeks, and away from home for two and a half. And to be completely honest with you...I feel guilty for not really missing anyone. 

Wait. Before you get offended, let me explain.

We stay incredibly busy with training. There aren't many moments to stop and think. By the time I get home I have 3 little boys climbing on me wanting to play, and a host mom and sister to talk to. Somewhere in between that I have to eat dinner, clean up, and/or study my new language or other homework assignments for the next day. When all of that is done I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow. And when I do have down time, I'm usually with other Peace Corps Volunteers talking about training, Namibia, their lives, a brief history of my own, or about what we're getting ourselves into. 

As you can see, there isn't much time to sit here and deeply miss the people I love back home. That doesn't mean I won't miss anyone...and it doesn't mean I'm happier here than there. Right now I'm in what the Peace Corps calls the Honeymoon phase. Supposedly, for the first two months volunteers are too excited to feel sad, too busy to feel homesick. You have to realize that we are being bombarded with new information every second of each day. Absolutely nothing is familiar. 

So in other words, I don't not miss anyone because I've forgotten them, but rather I'm not missing anyone because I'm too distracted to miss them. I've never been one to get homesick to begin with....but here are a few things I find myself missing for a few seconds randomly throughout these past couple weeks:

1) Pizza delivery. The other night after training I thought I'd order a pizza so that we wouldn't have to really clean up after dinner. And then I remembered...oh yea...I'm in Namibia. 

2) A beer stocked fridge. I moved in with my parents about 3 months before my leave date to enjoy time  with family, and if there's one thing you can count on at my parents' house (besides an overflowing cup of love, of course) it's a fridge with a never ending supply of beer. 

3) Goofy family conversations. We always talked about the silliest things at home, and while I continue to do that with people here, there's just something different about being able to talk like that with your parents. Not many people experience the type of relationship I have with my family, and I'm very fortunate to be able to be myself around them. 

4) Timothy Patton's beard. I know, that's a strange thing to miss. But one of my favorite things about him was his incredible amount of tolerance of me playing with his facial hair. I don't know people well enough here to just walk up to them and tug on their beard...now that I think about it, I don't even think any of the volunteers have one. And even if they did, it wouldn't be the same. I could go for a good Tim hug, too.

5) Vince Waldo's superhuman friendship. I "miss" all of my friends. And I will "missmiss" all of my friends for real whenever everything finally settles in. But I miss Vince's ability to say what I need (not always want) to hear at any hour of the day/night. Any time I've ever needed someone to talk to, he has been there. And while I haven't needed to "talk" to anyone since I've been here, I know that I will need to eventually. And it's really going to affect me when I go to call him and then realize he's not just right down the road. 

6) Madame President. I miss my guitar. Two volunteers, a married couple, are letting me borrow their guitar that they brought (they don't know how to play...they brought it so they could learn). And while beggars can't be choosers, I can't help but think of my pretty Takamine while I'm playing their guitar. It just isn't the same. But it's better than nothing. (My new friend, Alex, also brought his guitar, and he's been super nice to let me play it. It's also great to just sit back and hear him play. My goal is to influence him to start writing his own music. He has incredible talent, and I know if someone helps build up his confidence, then he'll be an incredible song writer. Who knows, maybe I've found my new music partner.)

:Right now that is about all I have found myself missing for tiny increments of time, just to be quickly pushed aside in my mind by some more foreign language vocabulary words, or strange cultural concepts. My intention was not to make anyone feel neglected, but rather to express how I truly feel. After all, I can't properly document my experience without truth and honesty...I foresee many entries in the future with tears and "I miss you"s so stay tuned.

But for now I'm soaking up every second I possibly can. I've already begun forming friendships with volunteers that I know will last for a lifetime. I already feel like a part of the family with my host mom and sister. The three little boys (Zandler-6, Ziyad-4, and Geovanne-4) have become my best friends. Last night I said I will miss them when I go to site at the end of September and Zandler said in broken English, "We will miss you, too. We will cry." And I knew he meant it after they all piled on top of me on my bed and begged to sleep next to me last night. I've known these people for two weeks, but everyone I've talked to and everywhere I've been has seemed so familiar, as if I have walked a similar path before.

I'm exactly where I need to be. And I intend to keep going no matter how bumpy this road is about to get. And when I do start to feel that emptiness...that homesickness...I will let you know. But for now, in this moment, I am whole.