Useless

I'm a teacher now. A neurotic, self-conscious, under-skilled, over-educated kid who is for some reason entrusted with molding young minds. This was not a good idea.

The reason I signed up to do this program was to travel, and to escape from a life I didn't like back in the States. But, to my surprise and disappointment, I am still the same person I was, just in another country this time. I am still lazy and unable to complete any of the projects I dream up. The staff and students at this school must be so disgusted with me.

desayuno- cafe con leche y dos rebanadas de platanos amarillos
(breakfast- coffee with milk and two slices of yellow plantain)

Then I had one class for the morning, half of which was students doing a pointless worksheet. After the worksheet I had no idea what to do so I let them run wild. They gossiped and played on their cell phones and horsed around. I feel terrible wasting their time this way, but I'm paralyzed. I have no idea what to teach them or how to keep them interested. When I speak to them I am so nervous I am shaking. Really I shouldn't be nervous at all, I could be speaking in gibberish and it wouldn't make a difference, they can't understand anything but the most basic of English phrases. But still, with all their eyes on me like that, I lose my cool (as if I had it to begin with) and start to stutter and stumble over everything. I can't fucking do this.

Now lunch time. I made mango juice and my host mom is making lentils and rice. At least it's healthy, if a bit more caloric than what I should be eating. I'll try to write again later, dear reader. If you exist, which I'm pretty sure you don't.

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Later...

In my afternoon class the teacher asked me if I "had gotten heavier" since I arrived. Then later the same guy told me "Yes, see you tomorrow. And enjoy your dinner, but don't eat too much." FML. I know it's a Colombia thing, they don't have the same sensitivities about weight that Americans do. But still. Ouch.  (and for the record, I've actually lost weight since I arrived here in Cartagena.)

Back again

Yeah. I'm back. New blog name and everything. I couldn't even tell you how many different names this thing has had since I started writing it back in high school. Now it's important to me to stay anonymous, but I'm sure it would be quite easy for anyone who knew me to figure out who I am. A risk I guess I'm willing to take to have this community back again.

I'm living in Colombia now as an English teacher. I have another, real life website where I'm completely honest about my identity but lie in every post I write. I write that I love it, only talk about the positive things. It's all very professional, but I feel strangled by trying to look polished and happy. Reality is that I'm drowning. I hate learning Spanish. I'm so stressed about making friends and my image that I've reverted back to old habits, knowing at the same time that it's terrible for me and that if I commit with enough fervor I could actually get there this time.

The scale in my host mom's room told me today that I weigh 140 lbs. But it's a new scale so I don't know what to compare that to, plus it's old and yellowed and untrustworthy. At least it's told me I've lost weight, though. Before I left the US I was somewhere around 150, so that's a good ten pounds down in a month and a half.

Here my diet is mainly fried things, but I don't binge in the same way I used to which has got to be helping me lose a little bit. On the other hand, I've almost completely stopped exercising. Lost my fitbit on the second or third day in country, but I somehow don't care about that at all. I just know that I'm walking drastically less than I did in Boston and there's almost no use in tracking the two or three thousand steps I take everyday.

Everything I eat is made by my sweet host mom, she's an excellent chef. Patacones, arroz con coco, cerdo frito, yuca, I could go on and on. She serves me far too much, but I've started complaining loudly that I'm very fat so she will feed me a bit less. I hate talking about my body image out loud, it's so gauche, but in this case I'm using my words as a tool. Colombians are so different from Americans in this way. They very openly tell others "you look fat" or "you've gained weight." But at the same time, that's not necessarily a bad thing to them. Today my host sister told me twice that I have a big butt and she wishes she could have a butt like mine. I'd trade for her 110 pound body in an instant. But I'll get there, this is the year I can focus and get thin for the first time in my life.

Fears

The fear of leaving, and staying in Colombia for so long, is really starting to set in. I dreamt all night that I was so sad I couldn't function. That I was lying alone in a dark place and lying to people I loved to avoid spending time with them. Who dreams about being depressed? I woke up sad, and full of intense fear about my trip.

The biggest fears are:
1) not knowing Spanish. (like, not at all. I can't understand anything people say, its all a big blur of syllables. Even the words I thought I knew make me confused, it's too difficult for me.
2) being fat. Everything I read says Colombians value image highly. This morning I weighed 153 pounds. A really high weight for me, I feel huge and my clothes fit tight. Because I'm fat and ugly no one will like me there and I'll never make any friends. I'll just be the fat american girl.
3) being alone. This is a combination of the first two, being isolated by language and disliked for my appearance.
4) not having any money. I didn't save enough of what I earned in Boston. I spent it all on binge food and now I'm fat and poor.
5) Being a bad teacher.
6) Missing home too much.

Ugly Girl

Negative thoughts keep running through my head. Ugly girl. Stupid bitch. Worthless. I hate living this way. But I am fat and talk too loudly about things I know nothing about. I need to sit quietly and listen, stop eating everything that's bad for me, and quit being such a lazy asshole.

I'm going to Colombia to volunteer because I have nothing else to do with my life. Sometimes I get waves of panic and anxiety about the year I'll spend there. But then I think about what I'd do if I weren't going, and I can't come up with anything. My resume is pitiful and I don't have much going for me skill-wise. And it's not as if I have a killer personality, I'm just sad and small and worthless.

Preparing for Colombia

Taking the shower the morning after a few days of being dirty is the most glorious feeling. Especially the moment when warm water hits your skin and all the dried sweat and dirt starts to rinse away. I love wrapping up in my towel with my fresh soft hair, smelling like flowers and soap.

I worked a double shift yesterday, and it was really hot out. When I biked to work at 9am the heat was bearable and there was a lovely cool breeze, but by noon any trace of the morning was gone. Just a week ago I had a coat on, and now I'm sweating in a cotton t shirt. There's a reason they say "If you don't like the weather in New England, just wait ten minutes." 

On my route from Allston to Cambridge where I work, I stopped at three places. First to the Walgreens where I bought four wallet-sized passport photos for my Colombian visa. Is there a rule somewhere that mandates all passport photos be ugly? I never have good luck with the pictures that go on my ID card. (Which then get flashed on a large screen every time I enter university buildings. How embarrassing!) The second place was the Au Bon Pain in Harvard Square for an iced coffee and a fruit cup. I sat on their patio for a few minutes and watched some graduates in their caps and gowns and regalia travel in smiling groups. (I did that just last week. What a happy occasion.) Finally, the third stop is the postoffice to buy express stamps and a padded envelope. All this so my Colombian visa can be made just in time, but not too early, for my departure on June 23.

Work was long and a little frustrating. Midway through the shift when it was slow, I did something I rarely do, grabbed my cell phone and took care of some emails and texts I'd been putting off. I texted a girl I had to tell wouldn't be getting my sublet after all. Then I had to text a good friend and roommate about why I was frustrated with her behavior recently. I hate confrontation and both virtual conversations ate at my brain for the rest of my shift.

Then a bike ride home to my bed. Sleep. And then being clean in the morning. Having the day off is a wonderful thing! I had a pedicure and bought 2 new blouses for teaching, then went to the organization's office to drop off my visa documents. Then I bought a new pair of shoes (great deal!) that will also go to good use at my new teaching job.

Highlight of my day was going to a Colombian restaurant that I'd never known was so close to my house. I got what the waitress suggested, chicken with mushroom sauce and a nice fruit smoothie. Everything was great! I hope food is this good when I get there. Contrast to that, though, was the bubble tea I got on my walk back from Harvard Square. I love bubble tea and I can only hope (but highly doubt) they have in Colombia.

At 8pm there was an online meeting for the volunteers to ask the field staff questions. I was really looking forward to this and I feel really good after the meeting. I got to see the faces I'll meet when I start orientation and ask really direct questions about the details of the trip. What kind of shoes should I wear when I teach? What credit card should I get? What's the weather like? It was nice to hear the answers to al the little details I'm unsure of. The planning makes it feel so real, and it brings up all the fears I have about leaving my life in Boston. But then I immediately have to remind myself- this is the chance of a lifetime and I'll be so glad to have done it. I'm going to help a community and learn so much more than I ever could staying here in the States. I'm nervous about my host family and new boss at the school, speaking Spanish, and feeling alone in a foreign place. But all that is so small compared to the benefits of lunging out of my comfort zone. Maybe I sound naive, but the only way I know to actually do this is to be optimistic and enthusiastic.

We didn't find out our placements or any details about our host families yet, only generalizations of what its like to live on the coast. I can't wait to know all about my new host family and where I'll be living. All day I've been smiling while I imagine my new life in Colombia.

Highgate

It took 10 minutes for me to bike from the restaurant I work at to the frat house where my friend had invited me to a party. This was one of the very few times I rode my bike at night, but I felt more comfortable on the dark empty streets than in the bright daytime traffic. Black jacket, black leggings, not a good outfit for alerting drivers to my presence, peddling furiously in my tiny designated lane alongside them. A light grey helmet and neon pink shoes helped to increase my visibility.

When I got to the party, my helmet made me stand out in a funnier way. "Ready for anything!" I joked when people asked what I was carrying. Not that I need a conversation starter, tonight I feel like a celebrity. I used to come to these parties often, different houses over the years, a new theme each night, but the same party when you come down to it. Our brothers set up a pong table and a playlist, make strict rules about who is allowed in (which they almost always break) and point the scantily dressed girls towards the 3 or 4 boxes of cheap beer. Since I pledged a sorority in my freshman year I must have attended at least two dozen iterations of this scene. But I graduated a semester early and all at once fell out of this social group. Now I was back, seemingly out of the blue, and old friends were delighted and surprised to see me.

"Hey! I didn't know you were here! How have you been?"

I beamed at each one of them and hugged them tight. "I miss you," I told them. Nostalgia and warm memories came flooding back, a familiar feeling of belonging I had forgotten. These faces knew me and were glad to have me back for the night. It was almost enough for me to feel like a returning hero, doing a victory lap of my old stomping grounds. Almost. All my old insecurities came back to me just as quickly.

It's a natural and obvious question, but "how have you been?" makes me squirm now. I'm "fine" like everyone else who answers that question automatically, but really I'm searching and insecure and floundering for something more impressive to say about my life post-graduation. My degree was in journalism, but I spend forty hours a week as a waitress in a sports themed restaurant. "I'm working and looking for a job in my field" I say, trying to explain away my unimpressive life. But I'm not looking for a job in my field, not actively anyway. I'm paralyzed in that arena by self-doubt and an intense fear of embarrassing myself.

Almost but not quite the oldest person at this party, I look around and realize I have only a few precious months left of attending this kind of thing without being weird. I'm an alum now. Already the new pledges brush me off, introducing themselves but not really looking me in the eye. I remember meeting older girls like this when I was in their shoes. I didn't care who they were, I cared about my new friends and how to get the boys to notice me. Not that I don't still care about that too, it's just that after a few years experience I can see the story play out before it starts.

The end of things

I've been thinking about breaking up with my boyfriend. After a month or more of fighting and tension, I'm reaching the end of my patience with him. More than once this week he's gotten insanely drunk and belligerent, especially towards me. Don't worry, nothing violent, he's just purposefully mean. He scolds me harshly for the tiniest of mistakes, his tone a baseline angry one that only get louder.

The most recent episode of this was in the worst place.

Normally we see each other everyday, on the few days we don't we're still texting and talking. It's comforting to me to have a constant companion in this way. He's someone who I walk alongside everyday, spending enough time together to start a life. But we hadn't spoken for 24 hours when he texted me something sweet and asked me to come out and see him. I agreed to see him, but I feel guilty. My head is completely sure this is over but my heart doesn't agree. This is about to hurt really bad, I can tell.