The move keeps on moving

I figure enough has gone on since I’ve arrived on the East Coast to warrant another update so here goes.

I got to New York City on January 11th and by the 16th, I had left again. I met up with Jarrett at Newark Airport after he flew in from Hawaii, and we rented a car and head up to Connecticut so that I could pick up my winter clothes and such. While we were there, an ice storm made us lose power for a night. Luckily, Jarrett “saved my life” by lighting a fire so we were able to stay warm until the power came back on. We had a nice time in Durham and Middletown. We ate out a few times, went to the movies and played Super Nintendo--my usual CT routine.

From there, we went to go see Jarrett's friend in Springfield, MA on the way up to Syracuse to meet his family. We went to Sunday pancakes at his grandfather's place, bowling, four-wheeling, and hung out a lot with his two (and a half) year-old nephew Jake. Jake and Teldyn Skyped one day, which was fun.

We spent a few days inside because single-digit temperatures kept us in hibernation, so we were excited and eager for a Day O Fun of snowboarding and a Syracuse basketball game. Jarrett is a skier, but after considering my knee problems, we decided to both look goofy by attempting to snowboard. We got to the slopes, purchased lessons and didn't want to sit around doing nothing for two hours until the lesson started, so we decided to give the bunny hill a foolhardy shot. Unfortunately, that was when I fell, put my arm out to stop my fall and POP out came my shoulder--"severely dislocated." I asked Jarrett to put it back but since neither of us had experienced anything like that before, we ultimately opted for professional medical attention. His Mom who works as a nurse came with us to the ER. So after four hours and some intravenous drugs, my shoulder was back in place and immobilized, and I was insistent that we try to salvage our Day O Fun with the SU game. We ended up attending one of the worst games Jarrett remembers seeing. The best part of the day was grabbing drinks after the game at the Blue Tusk bar nearby where my friend recommended the bloody marys. It was pretty good. Not as good as Emalee's, but then again, nothing is.

I stayed in Syracuse for another week to see a specialist about my shoulder. In that time, Jarrett and I were able to meet up with my good friends Lee and Connie who I knew in Hawaii and have since moved to Kingston, Canada, an hour north of the US border. The four of us shared a great dinner and reminisced about Hawaii.

So I saw the specialist on Tuesday, and he said that everything seems fine, but since I tore some ligaments in my shoulder, I have to wear the immobilizing brace for the next two weeks until they heal. Then I’ll be in physical therapy for three more weeks, and I should be back at 100%!

So finally on Tuesday (2/1) after my doctor’s appointment, Jarrett and I started making our way back to the city. We stopped in PA to see his friends on the way.

For those of you keeping track, Jarrett and I have been to Hawaii, Oregon, New Jersey, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New York, and Pennsylvania together in the past four weeks. So when people ask me how I like living in the city, I can't really say I've done a whole lot of that, but from the time I've been there, I've definitely liked it.

I did it!

I made it.  Here I am, sitting in my room in Astoria typing a blog post about how I've moved to New York.  Hard to believe that this is my new home.  It doesn't feel like reality yet.  I'm used to coming to New York and staying with my friend Liam, so it feels normal.  Although, I did have a moment as I was staring into my newly delivered boxes; part of me thought, "why didn't I just leave this stuff in Hawaii," while another part of me remembered, "oh yeah, it's not my home anymore."  Otherwise, I'm just taking each day as it comes and nothing feels too weird or out of place.

Going to Portland and hanging out with my friends for a few days helped me to not feel the sting of all that I was leaving behind, which was a heck of a lot.  And brings me to the very valid question that everyone is asking: why did I leave Hawaii and in the winter?  It doesn't make much sense.  I mean, I finally felt at home there after years of feeling like some kind of mainland invader and was even helping to raise Teldyn--one of the most valuable experiences of my life.  Well, I yearned to be more than an office manager living with my brother.  When I tried to branch out to find work that better suited my potential, my lack of a Master's degree continued to be a barrier.  So this summer I made the decision not only to return to school but to move to a place that would challenge me personally, professionally, and intellectually.  Wanting to live in New York since I was in high school, it seemed an obvious choice.  However, I want to be clear, leaving Hawaii and Teldyn is the hardest thing I remember ever having to do, and that's part of why I'm doing it.  I needed to step out of my comfort zone, to test myself, to grow.  Leaving Hawaii after I made it my home, feels like I've left on my own terms instead of running from something; and it provides me the added security and luxury of knowing that I have a whole life to go back to in Hawaii if and when I want to.

Now I'm applying to New York University, New School, and City University of New York for their programs in Public Policy.  I want to learn about what policies work, how they can work better, and the potential for applications.  In order to afford those first two schools, I'm applying for jobs there to get the benefit of free tuition after one year of employment.  And that, right there, is the reason why I made this move in January, of all months.  I'm hoping to get a job as soon as possible, so that when I start school in September, it won't be too long before I can get the tuition remission.

I spent my very first day here (Wednesday) unpacking and cleaning.  The next day, I did some food shopping and met up with a friend in Manhattan where I was recognized by another friend who happened to be at the same bar.  (I guess this city isn't as big as people say it is.)  Yesterday and today, I took it easy.  I haven't been feeling very well (congestion, sore throat, slight fever), so it's been a good excuse to stay inside and sleep, which I'm much better at than I thought I'd be.

It's cold here.  The kind of cold that makes your eyes water, and since I haven't really experienced winter in four years, I'm approaching it the way a bear would--hibernation.  Luckily, staying warm and rested has meant that I'm kicking this cold pretty fast, and I'll be ready to get back in the city in no time.

I'm not really sure what this blog will look like now.  It's not going to be about my jaunts and travels (for a while), but if I keep up with it, it could be about my biggest adventure yet.  Are you ready?  'Cause I'm ready. 

Let's Talk Crazy

A woman in front of me on the bus is looking at her reflection in the window and mouthing an animated conversation to herself. And frankly, I'm jealous. I enjoy communicating and expressing my ideas verbally (in case you couldn't tell) and that doesn't change when I'm alone. Conversing is one of my favorite past times, so indeed I would enjoy spending my bus trips honing my vocalization skills. However, such an action would inevitably make me subject to the thoughts and judgements which I'm, of course, casting on her: craaaazy.

Now, we're told, "just do what makes you happy as long as you're not hurting others. Who cares what people think?" But crossing the crazy line is a step we don't mess with. Probably because there's little way to step back. Even if we only cross it once, we're still that person who went crazy that time; and that leads to those uncomfortable glances, judgmental glares, and hushed tones we fear the most. It's a really scary place to be. We can't reason our way out of it. I mean, since when was "I'm not crazy" a believable statement? Crazy is the social hole from which we never truly ascend.

Now, I suppose if I really wanted to engage in a self-chat, I could pretend to be on the phone, but to make it believable it's more disruptive and intrusive than the method chosen by my (slightly stinky) fellow rider. Plus, people might figure it out since I'd still likely carry on both sides myself.

So in a fit of jealousy and craving, I've opted for a more socially acceptable way to talk to myself: blog.

USA! USA! USA!

When I was in Guatemala, a Dutch woman asked me and Mike if we were proud to be American.  Mike then went on to explain the problems of that question; that being American is so inextricably linked to who we are--our identity--that a pride or shame about it would inevitably also reflect how we felt about ourselves and therefore, probably not what she really wanted to ask.  I disliked the question for another reason.  I am proud to be an American (because I'm proud of who I am), but I feel that comes with it the need to defend myself against foreigners and US citizens alike who think that means that I must then love everything our nation does.

I've traveled to over thirty countries and roughly as many US states, and I love the United States.  Now, that does not mean that I think it's "the best country in the world" (whatever that means).  It means that I love it.  Kind of like my parents.  I didn't get to choose them, but I am (largely) who I am because of them.  They're my favorite parents in the world--but really only 'cause their mine, not because I have any empirical evidence that they're superior to other parents.  And besides, that has nothing to do with why I love them.  They have traits that make them great parents and great people.  Similarly, the US has traits that make it a great place to live and a great country.

So, being that today is July 4th, I'm going to go on a bit about what I love about the United States and its people.  (Didn't see that one comin', did ya?)

US Americans maintain a reverence for the tenacious farmer, the enterprising business-owner, an infatuation with the intrepid explorer, and the determined immigrant.

We value the outdoors: barbecues, camping, sleds, mountains, lakes, pets...
physicality: baseball, football, basketball, and sportsmanship...
celebrations: parades, awards, roller coasters, bright lights, block parties, pies...
exploring: road trips, RVs, motorcycles...

The natural beauty, as revealed in they very concept of a National Park, is unparalleled not only in its ecological variety but in the nation's unified desire to protect it.

I love that we have no official national language.  We don't force people to learn English, limit its transformation, or guarantee that it will always be spoken by the majority of us.

I love how the diversity of our 300 million people also brings endless varieties of skin colors, food, traditions, rituals, music, dances, and seeming contradictory values.  

We value functionality over aesthetics and love frivolity and escapism.
We cheer for rebels and respect authority.
We stand against injustice and root for the underdog and maintain our global preeminence.
We cherish individualism and isolation and promote hospitality and community.
We resist government involvement and practice volunteerism and philanthropy.

I love that we were founded on principles and "universal truths."  We became a nation through great thought and planning, whether or not we live up to our forefathers' intentions, or even if their intentions were as pure as we like to imagine, those ideals bring great potential.  That's what I love most about our country, not so much what we are, but what we could be.  I can call, visit, and email my legislators, propose legislation, protest, and vote--and I have.  I will continue to question what our country does, how it spends my taxes, and whom it is genuinely helping; and for that ability to devote my life to helping my country be the best it can be, I love the United States of America.