I have three more months until I leave for Indonesia. I feel much more emotionally prepared than I was for Kenya for some reason. I left my real job and am working a part-time retail job with lots of time on my hands. I feel guilty for having all that time though. I’ve been taught to build a life of meaning, but what I’m building now is a life of distraction.
Distractions can be good for you, too. They teach you what’s really important because they serve as a palette cleanser. Distractions can range from taking long and aimless walks through the town you grew up to sharing a meaningful night with a guy you barely knew a week ago. I typically do not subscribe to a life fulfilling all the basic and curious needs I’ve convinced myself I don’t need. It’s indulgent to live like that. I should feel guilty but can’t help but feel energized. Maybe living a life of distraction is what everyone needs to replenish a life that revolves around a proverbial work-hard-and-limit-pleasure ethic.
Basically, I think allowing yourself to enjoy life’s distractions can revive your love for life. And that love is meaning in itself.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Talk is Cheap
Since leaving my job tutoring autistic children, I’ve been looking for work. So I called my friend at Macy’s and now work in the jewelry section (in case anyone wants to buy some shiny, plastic thingamabobs). During one of my shift breaks I smoke in my favorite spot since first working here in college. The mall security comes up to me and tells me not to smoke in this now non-smoking section. I’m a little annoyed because this spot is secluded and I’ve probably worked here longer than this security guard. But I can’t be mad because he calls me “miss” instead of the “sir” I’ve expected since getting a pixie haircut. In a way, it’s kinda FTW! because I’ve been called “sir” so many times with this haircut.
But it also kinda bums me out because I must have put on enough make-up that day to prove I was a woman. The thing is I wasn’t going to cut my hair until I saw what was acceptable for women in Indonesia. I don’t want to offend anyone there by challenging gender norms. Because it's my job as a Peace Corps volunteer to not offend anyone. It’s not my job to change their way of thinking. It’s not to appear aggressive or intimidating. Instead, my job is to become a part of the community and to facilitate improvements in the community members’ lifestyle.
But it also kinda bums me out because I must have put on enough make-up that day to prove I was a woman. The thing is I wasn’t going to cut my hair until I saw what was acceptable for women in Indonesia. I don’t want to offend anyone there by challenging gender norms. Because it's my job as a Peace Corps volunteer to not offend anyone. It’s not my job to change their way of thinking. It’s not to appear aggressive or intimidating. Instead, my job is to become a part of the community and to facilitate improvements in the community members’ lifestyle.
Typically, being called “sir” wouldn’t bother me. My main concern is not offending anyone in Indonesia. Maybe I give that concern too much meaning. The liberal American in me says:
“What does it matter what I look like? As long as I do my job well, my appearance shouldn’t matter.”
But not everyone in the world shares that perspective.
In some ways, I think this short haircut will make my adjustment extra hard because now I have to convince them I’m woman enough to be treated as a woman. But the same kinda applies here, too. Right after getting my haircut, I immediately bought eyeliner and lipstick to somehow prove to everyone here that I’m in fact a woman.
I know true in my heart that it’s right to think I don’t have to prove myself to anyone but me, yet I still do. How do I recondition that thinking? One of the things I learned at a seminar called “Millionaire Mind Intensive” this past weekend in Anaheim is:
“Your actions are so loud I can barely hear a word you’re saying.”
Basically, talk is cheap. And my talk is cheap every morning when I apply that eyeliner. I think Indonesia will be a good test to see what I’m made of and what I want to be made of afterward. We all need to reconcile the contradictions that rule our lives. It’s all about taking the first step. My first step is to step away from the mirror and put down the eyeliner.
In some ways, I think this short haircut will make my adjustment extra hard because now I have to convince them I’m woman enough to be treated as a woman. But the same kinda applies here, too. Right after getting my haircut, I immediately bought eyeliner and lipstick to somehow prove to everyone here that I’m in fact a woman.
I know true in my heart that it’s right to think I don’t have to prove myself to anyone but me, yet I still do. How do I recondition that thinking? One of the things I learned at a seminar called “Millionaire Mind Intensive” this past weekend in Anaheim is:
“Your actions are so loud I can barely hear a word you’re saying.”
Basically, talk is cheap. And my talk is cheap every morning when I apply that eyeliner. I think Indonesia will be a good test to see what I’m made of and what I want to be made of afterward. We all need to reconcile the contradictions that rule our lives. It’s all about taking the first step. My first step is to step away from the mirror and put down the eyeliner.
But I'll take that first step after my stint with Macy's. Retail is already hard enough. Since my favorite smoke spot is now taken over by non-smokers, don't I deserve to put off actualizing my potential a few months?
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