On Embracing Distraction

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.

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.

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. 

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?

Light A Candle

I’m reassigned as an English teacher in Indonesia starting March 2014. Since I gave up my real job a month ago because I expected to leave for Kenya in October, I’ve been looking for seasonal and part-time work to keep me busy. So I applied for an activity aide position at a nursing home where my sister works, and I was basically hired. The job seemed super cool with lots of interaction with different kinds of people. I’d be leading BINGO games and doing sensory exercises with the residents. It all seemed like a productive use of my time for the next four months. The Activities Director approved of my choice to serve in the Peace Corps. She also really needed the help so didn’t mind my four-month stay. But when the HR manager found out how long I planned to stay, I was un-hired. 

In this unfortunate situation, I could do two things: move on or dwell.

I could have considered lying to the HR manager, saying I’d stay longer then quit when I eventually leave for Indonesia. But that would weigh on my conscience. I could have damned the whole facility and stayed angry for not being given the opportunity to grace its residents with my charisma. But would that solve anything?

A proverb:

“Look at what you’ve got and make the best of it. It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.”

But sometimes I pride myself for writing down every thought and emotion I have that I think it’s self-reflection when I'm really just over thinking. Ranting is not self-reflection. Dwelling on the past is not self-reflection. Looking to the past can be helpful if you're using those mistakes as a jumping off point to start negotiations with yourself. Is it time to change my behavior? What does this mistake mean for me in the long-run? 

It can be hard to spot the over thinking when emotions run high. I always thought it was a good thing to be aggressive when it came to expressing how I feel, but perhaps the aggression should be redirected in a positive way. Instead of plotting some grand revenge, I should be using that energy to thinking about the next opportunity. 

I’m still bummed I didn’t officially get the job, but it's no use letting the bitterness rule my life. Time to move on. Time to learn from my mistakes. Time to tweak my resume a bit more for the next interview. 

Afterward, I enjoyed some retail therapy. I went rogue and bought very trendy pants (I think they’re pants) from Forever 21. I typically wouldn’t buy pants there but until Indonesia, I will try to be more stylish. We all need roles to play to make life more interesting. And please take note that “try” is the keyword. I just hope I don’t look like I’m trying too hard.

Added Pressure

Our trip to Kenya has been indefinitely postponed. And all the volunteers who were supposed to go will be reassigned to different countries with different assignments. This process may take several months, so I’m sure I’m not the only one who is feeling the pressure to figure out what to do for the next several months. I keep telling myself:

“You have to let the added pressure move you forward, not drown you.”

But the setback has me drowning in pity for myself because I feel stuck. I should easily move on to the next leg of my career goal, which is graduate school. But I want to do the Peace Corps before graduate school because I expect the experience to mentally and emotionally prepare me for the new level of academic rigor that graduate school demands. Basically, I feel unproductive, which is a feeling I do not welcome.

To drag out this pity party, I still feel like a kid and I need to get over that by drastically changing how I live my life. But I can't really do that until I start this Peace Corps journey. I need to transform into a person who is ready to accept adulthood because I currently do not.

At my current mental state, I’m reminded by Robert Frost’s poem,

"Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"

Whose woods these are I think I know. 

His house is in the village though; 

He will not see me stopping here 

To watch his woods fill up with snow. 

My little horse must think it queer 

To stop without a farmhouse near 

Between the woods and frozen lake 

The darkest evening of the year. 

He gives his harness bells a shake 

To ask if there is some mistake. 

The only other sound’s the sweep 

Of easy wind and downy flake. 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. 

But I have promises to keep, 

And miles to go before I sleep, 

And miles to go before I sleep. 

I’m still committed to serve because I know Peace Corps will be worth the wait. And I expect the journey to be "dark and deep." I expect Peace Corps to challenge me in unexpected ways. I expect to develop new skills that could only develop from overcoming adversity. 

The only thing I wasn't expecting was the journey to the start of the real journey.

The Next Four Weeks

The Westgate Mall shooting delayed my trip to Kenya six weeks for security reasons. A terrible thing happened in the capital and I can’t help thinking:

“I just want to start my awesome Peace Corps adventure now!”

But I’m so thankful to have friends who give me reality checks. Some say:

“Everything happens for a reason.” While others say:

“You can still have meaningful experiences here before Kenya.”

They both hold some truth, but what are those meaningful experiences? I’ve already put my head in the Peace Corps game and now I need a new game plan for the next few weeks. How can I hope for meaning when I feel like I’m in limbo?

A friend sent me an article about meaning and happiness. Meaning and happiness seem exclusive from one another, but at the same time affect each other. For example, I’ve a lot of eggs in this Peace Corps basket. I want this experience to develop a lot of meaning in my life to the point where I feel comfortable seeking out experiences that make me happy.

This thinking may seem too linear and there’s obviously some overlap between meaning and happiness, but overall I see meaning as a requirement to finding happiness because having experiences that have meaning, like public service jobs, define who we are. Once we are defined, we’re able to stand on our own two feet, to make sound decisions by weighing the pros and cons, to practice empathy, and to know when to listen and when to talk.

How can we find happiness and do the things we really want if we don’t even know who we are first?

How can we seek out happiness if we first don’t know our own abilities and limits?

These meaningful experiences test our boundaries and let us know how well we function in different situations. And once we establish those boundaries, then we are able to stretch those boundaries with things that make us happy. We test our resiliency and expand our perspectives in hopes of widening those boundaries. We can’t test the strength of our resiliency if we’ve yet to establish the boundaries first.

So perhaps this waiting period is yet another meaningful link in the chain that defines who I am. Waiting requires flexibility and resilience. And if I want to widen my boundaries with things that make my happy as I hope to do, I have to practice these skills now. So yes, I can acknowledge that I’m impatient with the wait, but I also have to practice against the urge.

Supporting Unconditionally

Parents may love unconditionally, but that’s not the same as supporting unconditionally.

It was difficult to get my parents to understand my decision to serve in the Peace Corps. I was actually surprised when they asked me not to do it at first. They had always been on my side, cheering me on. But suddenly, they weren’t. It reminded me of that scene in the movie 10 Things I Hate About You where Mr. Stratford struggles with accepting his daughter’s college choice. Mr. Stratford says to his daughter, Kat:

“Fathers don't like to admit it when their daughters are capable of running their own lives. It means we've become spectators. [Your sister] still lets me play a few innings. You've had me on the bench for years. When you go to [college], I won't even be able to watch the game.” 

Maybe my parents just want to be part of the game. And when I’m in Kenya, they won’t even be able to watch the game. It’s hard to choose what I want when I know my parents may not approve. Yet they still love me.

Once the initial stage of apprehension wore off, my parents transformed into the rooting cheerleaders I remember them to be. They want to be a part of my life whether or not they agree with what they see. I always assumed it was an arduous and dreadful process to forgo personal expectations for the sake of maintaining good relationships, but they’ve showed that it is possible. It’s true they may not support all my decisions. Instead, they support me. So I just wanted to say thanks to my Mom and Dad, the heroes in my life. 

Thanks.

Mental Beasts

I will work at my current job tutoring autistic children for one more month. Although I am very excited to end this chapter of my life, some part of me doesn’t want to leave the job until I’ve transformed into some sort of mental beast. What I’ve learned from tutoring autistic children:

• I am no longer fazed by a crying child
• I’m pretty adept at figuring out why a child is crying (i.e. for attention or to escape a task) 
• Learning how to organize the world of chaos, according to a child, and figuring out what needs to be done, has helped organize my less chaotic life in more meaningful ways 

I used to think children were the scariest kinds of people because they often act on their instincts and sometimes act aggressively when an effective form of communication has not presented itself in times of deep emotion. We are taught to deal with our frustration and anxiety by using our words to express how we feel. Children are still learning how to do this and are, therefore, more prone to reacting physically to their emotions. Learning to interpret physical action as a cry for help or for something else proved challenging my first months on the job. But it did get easier as I learned to understand emotions in terms of pictures, rather than words. Then it was easier to respond to the children once I understood what they were trying to express in their own way.

I would imagine that mental beasts break communication barriers and easily find an access point to channel both what the person is trying to convey and what the mental beast chooses to respond. Though I haven’t yet donned the coveted role of mental beast, I do respond less negatively in times of crisis. But I wonder how much better I’d understand children that have an everyday struggle with expressing themselves if I stayed longer.

Regardless, maybe it’s time for a new struggle. Maybe moving to Kenya will provide me with another awesome opportunity to accept different forms of communication and learn to communicate in response.