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.

Step Class

Purple v-neck tee, black crop leggings, florescent pink and blue sneakers. I look like an average girl at the gym. Then why do I feel so out of place here? I don't actually go often enough that's definitely a reason. But it's also because I believe myself to be unathletic, which I've found to be more hindering than any other factor keeping me from physical fitness. Gym class was never a place where I shined, or even enjoyed myself. It was a source of dread and shame. Now here I am, a college graduate and actually paying to do the classes I used to hate.

This evening's class was step aerobics. I arrived a little early, just enough time to put my coat in a locker and watch the end of the class before. It was a bootcamp with a large black man with a booming voice. I liked him, he seemed encouraging and jolly. As it turned out he was the teacher for my class, too. As soon as everyone had said hello to each other (they seemed to all know each other! I felt conspicuously new) George bellowed to the class to get ready and with no further introduction started a very fast step workout. Everyone in the room started doing these step moves to his directions, lunging and kicking and stepping and grape-vining and sashaying almost in unison. I was constantly four or five steps behind and embarrassingly moving in the wrong direction constantly. The older woman behind me gave me some pointers over the break and I tried to concentrate on being as dancerly as possible to keep up with these insane step workout people. 

I'm proud of myself for actually going, and I did a pilates class last week. Last night I did some lifting with L and his buddy, and my arms and thighs are definitely sore. Trying to keep up an actual fitness routine, I want to take up hiking in the spring. 

L isn't here at the moment and I feel his absence acutely. We've been spending days on end here, ordering in food and watching ridiculous television. Smoking and going out to parties, wild sex at all hours. Then there's the fighting, the worrying, the lies and truths all muddled up. And the love, the sweet, true, exhilarating love. My heart flutters when he says nice things, refers to our future together, when he smiles at me with his doe eyes. It sinks and shrivels and dies in my chest when he turns away from me cold, offended by my applications to faraway jobs. I love him, I need him by my side. 

Shouldn't Have

These size 6R American Eagle "super skinny" jeans are cutting into my fat rolls. This pair fit me fine at 130 and even 138, but started to get uncomfortable after I got past 140 and then 145. 148 this morning, I am a disgrace.

I joined a gym that's just down the street but I've used it no more than 5 times so far. I have to cancel it for my finances sake, it's dumb to pay for something I almost never use.

Yesterday and the day before were lost days. My city was sent back into lock down mode because of yet another snow storm. So I spent all day monday with my boyfriend, watching movies and having sex and eating pizza and chinese. Tuesday I was alone, but I repeated monday's activities except for the sex. Now, two days later I am awakening from my hazy marathon binge and I feel awful about myself. why do I keep doing this?

I cannot wait for summer to come.