March 21, 2004

Have you ever thought maybe you could change who you were? That, if only for a few minutes, hours, days, you could pull off being someone you aren't? I mean, you think about it a lot, you plan, you prepare, you commit yourself to a situation that you would never be in under normal are as ready as you can be to put on a mask and play the role.

I tried. It didn't work. Trust me on this one: We are who we are for a reason. A damn good one. Just accept it and forget about trying to live like the other half, which ever half that may be. Oh, go ahead and try it, but I doubt you will have any better results than I did.

I know I am melodramatic. That's just the way I write, I think. Perhaps it comes from my penchant for thinking something to death before I ever put the proverbial pen to paper. Over-thinking makes me come off as a whiney, moody, and somewhat hopelessly romantic soul. Maybe I am all these things. But only if I think about it too much.

Last week, someone accused me of trying to figure things out too much.

"What are you doing?", said Arrogant Boy. [who I still think had the sexiest mouth I've ever seen (despite the things that came out of it).]

"Oh, just trying to figure out _____, " replied I, with a slight laugh.

"You do that a lot, huh?" , he asked with a raised eyebrow as he walked past me, as if to dismiss me and my reply. [insert mocking, scornful tone; as if to say, 'you do that a lot, you pathetic loser who thinks too much and says too little']

"Yeah. I guess I do," I stupidly reply. [thinks, 'You got a problem with that, you jerk?'] {still thinks he has the sexiest mouth ever.}

Yeah. Don't Mess With Texas. That's all I got to say.

Actually, that's not all I have to say...but that's all I'm going to say about my very interesting/frustrating/miserable/fun/disappointing Spring Break trip to Texas. It had it's highlights, the best being seeing a good friend who has been too far away for too long.

I've forgotten how much I like to write. I think I've forgotten a lot of things about myself. As usually happens after I see a good movie or read a good book, I get all introspective and analytical. I'm not even sure this movie counts as being "good." It was ok, as far as movies go....but it did strike a chord in me. I'm not going into details because the train of thought that began while I watched the movie has made many twists and turns during the ride and now it would be too tedius to backtrack through all the meanderings of my mind. I'll just skip you ahead to the depot that it has brought me to: doubt.

Doubt is a horrible curse. And it really is a curse. It's hard to shake. It barges in at the most inconvenient times and is always rude and inconsiderate. It's like a neighbor who just doesn't know when to leave her nose on the other side of the fence. It's always rooting it's way into your business, and settling in for a nice long visit.

I got a job this week. A real bonafide job. Doing exactly what I think I'm supposed to do. I am excited. It will begin almost exactly one week after I graduate from college. (sidenote: Do all graduations bring about this melancholy and anxiety? Is this part of the process? "Here's your cap, gown, and ulcer medication.")

I should be insanely happy that I got this job. It's what I wanted. Well, actually, it's not. But I didn't get what I wanted. Some Chilean chick got that. But it was 2nd runner up in the what-I-wanted competition.

But tonight, doubt began to creep in. All that restlessness. The wanderlust. It came back. And all of a sudden, a job that is only 13 hours away from my comfort zone isn't enough. I want to go....well, just to go. To see, to live, to experience. I want to see it all. But I don't know how to do that. I can't live for myself. I would be miserable. I could find some job serving mocha latte's to London's finest or waiting tables in South America. I could backpack through Europe and never even touch American soul again. I could travel anywhere.

But I wouldn't be happy.

In the end, I would be empty. I never feel more alive or fulfilled than when I am working with teenagers; When I'm getting covered in flour and hit over the head with water balloons; When I look in a 15 yr old girl's eyes and see that she is finally going to open up to me and let me help, that I've finally won her trust; When I get to see the look that comes across a kid's face when they finally understand what grace means. Oh, these things fill me up.

Except for that part of my heart that always pushes me out of my nest. I could handle it before. All I had to do was find a summer camp in some crazy place to go work. But the problem with summer camps are that they tend to close up shop as soon as little things like fall and school and responsibilty come on the horizon.

I thought I had figured out how to reconcile these two parts of me. I thought that I had found the solution. But apparently God didn't agree with me. So, here I am....with an internship. In Texas.

And with a heart full of doubt. Is this the right thing?