Life B

(photo: all the beautiful happy people I watched, the wedding dance floor full of good energy. best music playlist ever.)

December 2006
Yesterday evening, as I was driven through Laguna Beach to meet some friends (the ones who can make living abroad make me feel some void, some sense of being incomplete), I emptied my head in the front seat onto my journal pages and felt see through. From my rambling mouth I learned that I had a lot on my mind about being back here, but had avoided staring it in the face.

Being here now is like stepping through the mirror to someone else's life. Like putting on a wig and costume, I feel like I'm sneaking in. An imposter with an appropriate life resume to fool everyone.

It feels like rereading a book years later. Suddenly I'm living like turning back time is as possible as picking up "Catcher in the Rye" again. I turn the pages quickly here- I have to finish this "story" in 8 days and there are so many red lights and voices to get to. So many lines to stand in. So many things to buy. A wedding to attend (the reason I came to California this second time around). The first of my closest friends gets married. A beautiful wedding. A concentrated catching up with many of my old high school friends in the happiest of settings and amidst such elegance. My surroundings have been drastically altered from my life just days before. My mind is in such a different place here.


I feel like I'm cheating in the game of life right now. And sometimes I breathe deep and feel a ball of guilt in my stomach for being able to just pick up and leave Belize.

I smile and laugh an awful lot somehow. Am I really that skilled at distracting myself from my tangled thoughts?

Once Home.

"Mental Reflection is so much more interesting than T.V., it's a shame more people don't switch over to it. They probably think what they hear is unimportant but it never is." -Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I'm in a moving car and it's dark. And I write down the thoughts of an anxious mind:

I'm impulsive. I look for the quick and painless way out. Maybe out of fear of panic. Thinking about, questioning about. Did I do the right thing?

Back in Belize the other day started with a sour morning. But the sun started to come out and I decided to try forgiveness instead of anger. I smiled about the present. Life is good. I took the long way to the library and then left the bike at home- traded it for a camera and walked through town. Blue skies and puddles. I took five pictures and felt quiet inside. Finally.

After waiting in an airport chair.

Sitting in the airport, thinking about what I'm going home to, about the past, my heart having shifted to a new place... thinking about what I'll come back to Belize to... I felt a lot of anxiety about this trip.

But now I'm gazing out the window at the Caribbean Sea, dotted with specks of land, scattered and dark. The sky is changing colors- the clouds look like fluffy scoops of washed out rainbow sherbet. The pools of water are reflecting pinks and blues.

It's so beautiful; I take about 10 pictures though none look like what I"m witnessing right now.
I feel at peace.

Real World, Belmopan

(two friends enjoy the mud. one of my favorite pictures.)

Another training over, I headed to the capital. It was a wonderfullly quiet evening of getting to know this new person, unwinding with music and conversation. Laughter and silence. Rest.

Saturday morning it rained hard and didn't let up for hours. Woke up slowly while the rain poured. Some male volunteers would be playing in a fubtol game this afternoon against the 4H team. The rain slowed. Covered in a raincoat and my umbrella at my side, I stood on the sidelines. They slipped and dove in mud, losing 7-0 as we cheered them on. Enjoyed lunch- cheap burritos and sugary sour lime juice. Relaxed away the late afternoon. The night held entertainment at friends' homes. Texas Hold'Em, vegetarian chili, music. In the attached apartment, dominoes were slammed on the table.

The next morning was rainy and slow. By the afternoon I had pulled myself onto a bus. Hopped from this hour and a half bus to the next, without waiting in the terminal. Oh joyous occasion! It's the little things that make a great weekend just that much better.
The bus played Bryan Adams and I mouthed the words. Finally I made it home, a little over 3 hours later. And I felt exhausted. Wonderfully exhausted.

Something told me this would be the first of many weekends in the capital.