Grace

I'm not sure that I believe in God (or god), but I do believe in Grace.

In my limited experience, I have come to believe that grace always exists, but we don't always see it. This week I experienced it twice.

On Saturday I sat at the feet of Lebanese woman as she "read" the gritty patterns left in my coffee cup. The mother of a dear friend of mine, she interpreted my destiny and her daughter translated, covered heads tilted together reading, then back laughing. We sat and giggled together the way that women have always done everywhere.

This morning I had coffee with a new friend and connected like old souls.

hmmmm.... I don't know that grace always involves coffee; but I can't rule it out.

Incoherent musings after prolonged silence

Call it the mind-numbing boredom of my summer job, or the not-so-summer-like weather we are experiencing, but I decided to post again. It has been quite some time. I feel like the past however long that I've left silent could be summed up in few words. "Failed attempt at love" or "Failed attempt at being loved", but more likely the truth is less fatalistic and more like; "An exploration of my expectations", or simply; "Hiding." Whatever it is/was, I find myself suddenly alive again, re-animated like a revived cylon emerging from the birthing pool.

Put the good my pocket and set the rest down. Lesson learned.

Ojala (Inshallah)

So I am facing the summer. No travel plans in the immediate future, though Mexico sits, waiting in the fall. I'm good with that. Summer in Colorado. New bike and endless trails. Good friends, good family. No illusions. Renewed hope. There are definitely worse things in the world. I could list them if you would like; but not just now...

Random thoughts in/on America

The following is adapted from a letter to a dear friend I thought I should post to maybe get me posting more again....

On the million everyday luxuries:

I think the hardest thing for me to adjust to, is that I REALLY enjoy those things. I think I've made peace with it though. I think it's about appreciating and enjoying those things and understanding that they are luxuries and not necessities, and trying to never take them for granted. I have to say, I love the trails here, being able to run in the fresh, clean air and not worry about traffic or gangsters. There is still a lot of stuff that I don't love, the rat race, the commute, the lack of public transport, American Idol. But I also feel a lot more ownership here, like it or not, this is my country, the politics, the society that we make here is my responsibility. I can't escape it, I shouldn't be able to escape it. But at the same time, it feels somehow disrespectful to discard the privileges that come with it, as if they didn't matter. Because if I didn't have them, they would matter very much. I don't know... I guess now, reflecting back, I really believe that more than any ideology, political system, philosophy or belief system, things work or don't, based on how emotionally, and spiritually sound the people in power are. In a nutshell, how comfortable they are in their own skin. What I am trying to say, is that I no longer have that secret wish that I were not American. I am no longer ashamed. Not because I think that everything is perfect here, or that I am perfect, but because we, like every other culture and country are extremely human: perfectly flawed.

On being American:

I just took a walk with a couple I was able to get into our transitional housing program. The father is Iraqi, the mother is Lebonese. I was pointing out their neighbors, one woman is Indian and the other family is Mexican. "It's a very American neighborhood," I said.

On freedom, love and the freedom to love:

I went to a Brandi Carlisle concert Friday night at the Aggie Theatre in Fort Collins. It was a great concert, despite the fact that a big chunk of ceiling fell through during the opening act. No worries, the show must go on. Anyway, I was thinking of my absent someone and how much it would have been nice for him to be there with me. I noticed the couple on my right, two girls, and I thought about how much worse it would be to have my someone there and not be able to hold his hand or touch his face, like they were doing now but not so long ago couldn't have (and in some places still can't). Maybe the most beautiful part of falling in love, is wishing it for everyone.

That settles it....

...nothing is settled. Not yet.... I am officially in the vortex of transitioning transitional transitions. I did finally get an office in which to work. I even got my name on the door. It's a temporary position, but at least providing a bit of stability. Other than that, still living in my brother's unfinished basement next to the ferret cage. That's right, I'm a glamour girl.

I've been doing a lot, A LOT of thinking lately. Some of it even rational. I'm now past the three month mark back in Gringolandia. El Salvador recently elected my ex-imaginary-novio, Maricio Funes, as president. I commute an hour each way to work and have even been spotted at Starbucks. (gasp!) I listen to a LOT of NPR. I'm beginning to etch a groove here. The strange thing, is that my itching feet have been itching to bury themselves in the dirt. It may be the ferret-fumes talking, but the idea of settling seems more and more appealing. Is it time to let the world come to me for a while? Just need to find that balance...

Or maybe we all just want what we don't have.. how many times have I had someone express their envy of my adventure. Don't get me wrong, I love my life, but I know what must be sacrificed to live it and sometimes I look back and wonder why they don't sufficiently appreciate what they have.

A big comfy chair and....

Campo Colorado

I spent last weekend in Grand Junction, CO. For those of you not familiar with the area, GJ is the largest town on the Western side of Colorado, or the conservative side. I lived there most recently for a couple years before I went to Peace Corps and I got my second bachelor's degree in Sociology at Mesa State College. I worked at a juvenile detention center for a bit and at a residential treatment center for kids for most of my time there.

Grand Junction is and interesting place. I used to joke that the best thing about it is that you can be out of it in 20 minutes. It is surrounded by some of the best terrain for outdoor activities. You have the Monument (Colorado National Monument) which holds some great sandstone formations, the Mesa which is higher in elevation so it has evergreen forests and ski slopes, Mt. Garfield, a crazy hike with incredible views of the valley, and the rest was desert, unforgiving, spectacular desert. You could drive for a couple hours to the West and end up in Moab and Arches National Park for some really amazing rock formations.

I was pondering as I was driving over, how different, and also how similar campo (rural) Colorado is to campo Central America. In some ways, there is just no comparison. I think that the poorest, most isolated inhabitant of CO campo still has more resources than the 99% of CA campo residents. Yet, there are a lot of similarities. There absolutely exists in both societies a distinct social divide between the urban and rural communities. The urbanites look down on campo people as uneducated hicks and the campesinos disdain the urbanites for their fast lifestyles, crime-ridden societies and disconnect from life. There is a palpable difference when you drive to the Western Slope. Whereas in many of the mountain towns, tourism drives the economy and the inhabitants cater to big city tastes for quaint amenities, GJ's economy, especially recently, is supported by natural gas drilling and exploration. It's hard to believe that it is the same state as Fort Collins, or even the same planet as Boulder. It's literally the hybrid vs. diesel, tofu vs. beef, marijuana vs. tobacco. I couldn't help but chuckle at the incredible irony of the situation, on both sides. The liberals romanticize the rural poor in every country but our own, and the conservatives vilify them... and they are both too invested in their own version of the story to look at it from a different angle. Me, I am somewhere in between... I would drive a hybrid if I could afford it, and I think one of the best sounds in the world is a Ford diesel engine idling on a cold winter morning.

I met up with some girls that I used to work with and caught up. We went through the list of co-workers and residents and exchanged gossip. More than a few of "my boys" have been committed, some of them have slipped into the category of "no news is good news." There are even a few of them that have been proclaimed "functional" (hallelujah!). I was upset, though not surprised, to hear that one of my boys, Kody, one of my favorites, died about a year and half ago. He was really a great kid that got a lousy shake in life. (That statement could describe nearly every one of those kids.) In Kody's case, he was introduced to methamphetamine by his mom, had buried his kid sister a few months earlier, and, understandably, struggled with depression. I saw Kody through two programs, the detention center and the substance abuse center. When he entered the substance abuse center, he had just graduated from Outward Bound, where they take troubled kids and teach them to survive alone in the desert. He taught me to build a fire by making a bow out of a branch. I taught him to put out his arms and spin til he fell to the ground. He graduated the treatment center successfully, and I tried to tell him that he'd succeeded, even if he screwed up in the future, that he had proved he knew how to turn it around again.

I'm not sure how he died. I'm afraid it was in a dark place that won't let in the light no matter how bright it shines. When I found out, I toked in his honor, partly because it was completely inappropriate and because he would laugh his ass off, but mostly, cuz sometimes real life is unfair and fucked up and the respite of a cloudy haze, seems like the only sane response.

DU Bound

Okay... so I have been horrible about keeping up my blog since I have been back. I will really, work at doing better because I think it helps me keep what is left of my sanity. So I apologize to all my loyal readers.... both of you. jajajaja

So, updates: To my pleasant surprise I was accepted into both of the grad programs that I really wanted. The joint Social Work/International Development degree at the University of Denver and the joint Social Work/Public Health degree at Tulane in New Orleans. WOW!!!! I am especially amazed cuz I really, REALLY bombed the GRE. I am ecstatic that I don't have to take it again. So I guess they do look at more than just test scores and GPAs. Gracias a Dios! So, program wise, I think the Tulane program eeks out just ahead of the DU one, primarily because I am really interested in health issues, and I would love to experience New Orleans. But the DU program is also exceptional (the Int'l Dev program is in the top 10 in the country. Diay!)

I have decided though that I am going to enter the DU program. It basically came down to the fact that though I would LOVE to experience New Orleans and the program is exceptional, I want to be close to home for a while. One of my greatest joys in life is getting to know a new city and a new culture, and I think New Orleans would definitely qualify, but the truth is, at the same time that it is exhilarating and soul sustaining, it is also disorienting and excruciatingly lonely. I think it's time for me to find some sort of balance between home and away. Byron and Dara (bro and sis-in-law) are in the process of adopting and I want to be part of that. I am sure I will travel again, especially with an International Development degree, so now is time to be home.

Anyway, I feel amazingly grateful to have options. I don't, for a minute, take them for granted. I do also understand that every choice we make means sacrificing what may have been had we chosen differently. So looking forward, carrying on and crossing my fingers that I have chosen well. But what an honor to have that choice....

PS: Suck it GRE! HA!

The Road to the Whitehouse takes a detour

Okay, so I have gotten really, really behind in my blogging lately. There has actually been quite a few significant developments in my life as of late. I am not going to even attempt to get them all in in one giant excruciating blog, so I will divide them up and hopefully get myself caught up here. (Blogs have been back dated to feign accuracy)

First of all, I have already written about my being chosen to march in the inauguration parade, so I will now write about a slight detour I took in getting to DC that ran, directly through the Loveland, ER on the way to financial ruin.

So, I had my plane ticket and was set to fly out around noon the Saturday before the inauguration. About 4 am that morning I woke up with a severe pain just inside of my ribs. The pain was not so bad as long as I did not breath, but as I was having a hard time avoiding breathing, while maintaining life, it was quite painful. As my insurance had expired, literally, two days earlier, I thought about riding it out, but then I remembered a family history of blood clots and decided that I really wasn't sure that I wanted to die yet, I woke my brother and asked him to take me to the ER.

They gave me pain meds that made me nauseous. I developed a negative association to hiccups and peeing as both actions seemed to trigger vomiting. They asked questions, and ran a couple of tests. The daytime doc came on shift and said that his best guess, was that that I had gall stones and would need a surgery. So I called United airlines, and told them that I wasn't going to make my flight. I also started the mourning process for any dreams I had of grad school, as I was expecting tens of thousands of dollars in medical bills. I had a job so I wouldn't qualify for any indigent programs and stupid me, financially responsible saving would disqualify me from most forms of assistance. There are definately worse cases, I don't have a house to lose.

Anyway, they ran a CT scan ($2,000) and found nothing, two ultrasounds ($700) and still nothing. So I was released from the hospital at 3pm, a medical mystery. I received my bill this week and I am down just over $7,000.

God Bless America.

(on a side note, I was able to rebook my ticket, though United charged me $150 for the favor. I argued that I was in the Emergency Room and that it was an unavoidable miss, they told me that the only way they would waive the charge would be if I could provide a death certificate. May they rot in hell.)