Quarter Life Crisis

I'm in Quito, Ecuador. The one in South America.

It's only been six days since I returned to the país de mi alma. I don't think I can describe the completely strange feeling of walking into "my" house and not knowing where "my" bedroom was. It's odd, because as much as I love this new house, it still feels like we're staying in somebody else's home. I'm hoping that will change, that by the end of my time here, I'll actually be able to find my way to the laundry room. 

Flew in Thursday night. Thanked God for getting me to Quito without having to spend the night in Guayaquil (I would have hated that). Cried as soon as I saw my parents while riding the escalator out of the hallway at the airport. Jumped on my brother and sister while they were trying to sleep. Stayed up late just to revel in the newness of the new house.

Friday and Saturday: Alliance choir concert. Felt jittery at the notion of seeing people I hadn't seen in a year. Thankfully avoided too many awkward moments with said people. Laughed with my best friend one night, then flirted with my brother's underage friends the next. "Illegal" flirting is probably the best kind.

Sunday, went to the church that has been a part of my family for about 50 years. Reconnected with my youth pastor from Dana Point and finally met his wife. Felt jittery about that, too, until I realized that who I am, and who I was back then, is not made up of one person. Was filled with memories I kept to myself and feelings I hadn't thought of in a long time. Scored an age of 41 on the Wii fitness test.

Saw best friend number two on Monday afternoon. Visited my high school as a non-high school student and felt weird about it. Was almost not recognized as an alumni by the school nurse. Hung around the big soccer field and waited for first best friend to come on campus. Was 1/3 of 3/4 of a bear hug of a best friend reunion. Played Prince of Persia, Fable 2, and Halo 3 on the Xbox 360. I really missed that thing. 

Tuesday, wore pajamas, did nothing. Made sugar cookies and worked on Christmas presents. Quizzed my sister on her Science test (mitosis is the first and most important stage of cell division) and partook in a dinner party with people I didn't know so well. Am now sitting in my dad's office chair, trying to get sleepy enough to go to bed. 

Once the little bro and sis get out of school, I'll be more productive. I promise.

Eleven Things My Mama Should Have Taught Me

After one (happy, crazy, growthful, changing, difficult, spectacular, lovely, joyful, lonely) semester of college, I have come to understand these things:

1) Mostly, you relate to the people you knew previous to your first college experience in a completely different way after you've come home. To me, this means that I am officially an adult in the Cline/Scholl crowd; I partake in adult conversations, without fear of giving my own opinion or even telling Kevin to shut up. It also means that stupid high school cliques are no longer in control of my social life. (This is where I insert a five-minute long sigh of relief.)

2) People are hard to live with. It doesn't matter who they are, where they came from, how similar they are to your own personality; people are just hard to live with. And once you can master the "art of losing" all the things that make your life familiar, it is five hundred thousand times easier to live with another person.

3) Pop-tarts and string cheese can be a suitable meal for anytime of the day!

4) It is completely normal to eat by yourself, whether you're in the cafeteria or hiding out in your dorm room.

5) Friends require upkeep. After about six years of having three perfectly synced friends who practically fell into my life, this was the hardest for me to come to terms with. It takes time for faces to become acquaintances, acquaintances to become casual friends, casual friends to become close.

6) Facebook is a SICKNESS.

7) No matter how awkward I feel about the whole "Third Culture Kids of APU Unite!" thing, I have to admit that it does make me feel ten times more comfortable when I realize that a professor is a former MK or a classmate spent most of her life in a different country. It's not because I can't relate to your average American, it's because I can relate better to people who have had similar experiences to mine. And that's true for everyone, whether we're talking about the language you speak, or the kind of school you graduated from, or the place you grew up in. People are naturally drawn to those who are like themselves. And no matter how self-obsessive that might seem, it's good.

8) You are different. I am different. We are all freakin' different, so it's completely futile to go around acting like you're God's gift to society. Get over yourself.

9) 7:15 Walk/Jog classes are never a good idea.

10) Sometimes people suck. (That's why forgiveness is such an intense theme in the Bible.)

11) Tie-dye is way cool in college.



I started this blog entry about a month ago, but I got frustrated with how Blogger changes the language if you're in a different country and since I was in Ecuador (South America, not Africa), everything was in Spanish and it just bothered me. So even though the new semester has already started, pretend it hasn't.

p.s. it's raining

I met another homeless man today. His name was Ricky and he smiled at me in the most genuine way and said, "Merry Christmas!"

I was so nervous to talk to him. There's something that just makes it hard to look a person in the eye after you've walked past them, trying to forget their presence, a couple of times. Yeah, I walked right past him. And then I felt that tug on my heart again and I turned around and introduced myself.

We ended up talking for maybe 30 seconds. I was so afraid that I would say the wrong thing; I couldn't find any courage to ask him about his story, even though I knew that's what I was supposed to do.

So my prayer today is for courage, courage to do the things that God has pressed on my heart.



In other news, Rheanna's Quest Towards Being As Awkward As Possible is still going strong. I got lost in San Dimas after the "AH! You're running out of gas!" light came on in my car and I raced off the freeway in a panic, frantically searching for a gas station. I then proceeded to completely forget my zip code, which apparently you need to pay for gas with a debit card at certain gas stations.

No worries, though. Ugly Betty is full of gas and safe in the school parking lot. And I am safe in my dormroom, content after a night of music and poetry and bizarre Christmas antics.



The logs on the fire fill me with desire to see you and to say that I wish you Merry Christmas.