Bike to Work

I don’t have too many goals in my life right now. Sometimes that’s good, and sometimes it’s not too good. For the most part, it’s not so good for a person like me because I’m not a good planner (not am I driven/type A). I get all these ideas but I’m never good at following through with them. In any case, I want to share with you about a monthly goal I have.

My goal is to fill up the gas tank only once a month. I feel like I can really do it with work being so close by and I only take short trips to the grocery store, to my class in the hills, and then some stuff at night for this and that. I live really close to work, and I’ve started biking about a month or two ago. Granted, I don’t bike everyday, but I’d like to do so, especially before the weather gets too cold (and wet!). I actually think that I could possibly have left over gas each month.

This month (October) I failed my gas goal. I had to fill up on Saturday. So now it will make this month a tiny bit harder. Still, I think I can do it. A big factor is the weather. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to ride in the rain. Also, the cold makes me rethink riding my bike, and I can be lazy, so maybe I need to make mini-goals each week (like only drive once a week to work). We’ll see.

I wish more people biked and drove less. It doesn’t really work here in the USA, but if you really think about it, the bike’s like the ultimate transport vehicle. Human powered, it’s fast, and it helps you exercise. I also think I see things differently when I bike. I see buildings and people and roads. I see broken TVs, the same homeless guy on the corner near church, gangster dudes selling stuff in the main intersection, and the bright orange flowers that line the front of the old church. I feel the speed when I go downhill. I enjoy weaving through obstacles and passing by cars in traffic.

I also want to participate in Critical Mass sometime.

OK, it’s late again and I need to get to bed. I don’t know any of these people but I thought they looked funny. This entry’s not too deep. I’m just trying to write more often.

Good night.

Itchy

I woke up this morning with a buzz in my ear. I slapped my head, hoping to kill the bug. I knew it was a mosquito but in my tiredness, I chose to imagine it to be a fruit fly. My forehead was itchy and so was my arm. I turned on the light to hopefully attract the mosquito or at least give me some light so I could try to kill it.

I knew those were both stupid ideas because mosquitos really don’t give a rip about light, and also, it’s pretty hard to kill mosquitos when you’re tired. When you’re tired, you do stupid things.

I ended up pulling the blankets over my head, hoping that the mosquito would just disappear. I struggled to fall asleep for the next hour or so. My face itched and I was slightly paranoid that the bug was gonna add more damage to my beautiful skin.

When I was in Sierra Leone, my night time rituals were somewhat unusual. Each night, I would take a quick shower, and then jump into the rickety top bunk (above Micah), totally wet from my shower. It sounds gross, but I usually didn’t towel off after taking a bath. I actually wetted myself more when I got out of the shower so that my body would cool down enough to fall asleep. Matt was pretty amused by my African ritual of a wet bed, but it was the only way to fall asleep at night. He had some sort of amphibous nickname to give me that I’ve forgotten. I wish I could remember it. At some point, it was pretty much clockwork that I’d wake up at 4 or 5 in the morning to throw some cold water on my body and then slip into bed, wet and cooled for a couple more hours of sleep.

We also had to sleep under mosquito nets. It was one thing that I didn’t talk much about, but I really hated. After jumping up into the bunk, I’d make sure my net was covering me up and I tucked in the sides of the net under my mattress. Sometimes a bug would creep into my net it would have a great time sucking my blood in all sort of spots all night long. That was frustrating. I didn’t realize it, but I was actually really privileged to have a net. A lot of Africans didn’t have nets and they suffered from Malaria because of it.

Every morning, I’d gather my net and tie it up over my head. I’m not sure why it was such a big deal but I felt so much better when that thing was tied up. I couldn’t wait to come home and not have to sleep under a net. I couldn’t wait to not have to go to bed wet. I couldn’t wait to walk down the street unnoticed. I think there was a long list of “I couldn’t waits…” because I was uncomfortable. Not suffering, per se, just uncomfortable.

Here in America, our lives are built towards pursuing security and comfort. We make choices each day, and they often come back to those two things. I had a hard time dealing with being uncomfortable in light of my cultural upbringing. I secretly wished to throw my clothes in the washing machine and to have electricity whenever I needed it. Granted, there’s nothing wrong with being secure or comfortable, but I think we miss out on life when it’s such a big part of what drives our actions and decisions. I think I have a hard time with being comfortable here, but I can feel that quickly fading away.

I have to also be real with my own life in regards to pursuing comfort and security. I’ve been thinking a lot about what to do next with my life. I have a lot of time to think about it when I sit at my office at work with very little to do. There are different threads that I’m looking into. Graduate School. Art School. Some sort of artistic vocation. Something stable and practical like nursing? I’ve been thinking again about picking it all up and moving to somewhere either new or with some familiar faces. ( I want to shake that thought really badly but it seems to keep coming back ) I’ve thought a bit about being more commited to service, especially in this Oakland neighborhood. I’ve thought a bit about being more commited to service, and maybe going back to Africa.

At church, Linda said something to me that really made sense. I asked her what she thought about living in this neighborhood, and about community here. She answered that it’s not all that great all the time, but her lacking isn’t all-together a bad thing. There are parts of living in this community and neighborhood that are uncomfortable at times: physical safety, freedom to do things, community support, access, or familiarity. But she said at least it makes her needy and uncomfortable, and therefore she has to turn to God. That in itself is important to her.

That was really deep. And I was humbled by her answer. I was humbled because I realized that this is how I’ve wanted to respond to my uncomfortable transition back here in Oakland. This is how I’ve wanted to respond to all of my questions and longings for my 20s. Longings that I feel have lasted so long.

People ask me if I’d go back to Africa, and I usually struggle to answer as I consider the uncomfortable things that “I couldn’t wait” to leave. I’m not sure if I really want to go back to that place. At the same time, I struggle with my current life where swiping a card or quick and cheap entertainment like espn.com satisfies me quickly but leaves me a bit empty once it’s said and done. I know that my own independence and self-sufficiency leads to a emptier and restless soul.

I don’t have a clever way to wrap this all up. I have been having dreams and little moments that have reminded me of Sierra Leone. It’s strange because I usually don’t dream that much.

Good night.

Culture S(h)ock

Man, I can’t believe I’m still up. I’ve been messing around with this design of mine, but I can’t seem to get it the way I like it. Oh well, I guess my perfectionist tendencies still haven’t left me, even after 26 years. (yikes!) I’m gonna seriously die tommorow with work and art class! If you’re not too lazy, let me know what you think.

It feels good to be back in the saddle, so to speak, with designing and being creative, especially with this computer. I’ve mostly been surfing and emailing with this computer, which is kind of lame because this thing’s pretty capable for doing graphics stuff. It’s O.K. though because that’s been a lot of life right now: showing up and putting myself in a position to grow. I think that’s why I’m taking this class, playing ultimate on tuesdays, and going to church. I’m not always into it, but it usually turns out to be good and worth it once I’m there.

I had a good conversation with Avery a little while back about blogging and stuff. I basically said that I like comments and that’s what I gun for every time I write. Well, not really, but they help. So, he said he’d write a crazy post that just says to check out my website. He actually did better than that, and wrote something nice about me. Thanks bro!

I’ve had a lot of thoughts, but I haven’t had much motivation to write them down. I feel like I’m beginning to turn the corner on some of the adjustment/depression/anxiety/loneliness funkosity that I’ve been wrestling with since I got back to the Divided States of America. And trust me, it gets pretty darn funky ’round here. I’m pretty impressed by how quick some folks get over or recover from ‘culture shock’ after returning from being in a really different culture. It’s been about 4 months since I’ve got back from my trip and I’m still really lost about it.

One thing’s for sure: I officially hate the term ‘culture shock’. I think I’ve heard about 3.6 billion people diagnose my life by those 2 words. Whenever I hear it, I get mad inside and have an imaginary monologue in my head. It goes like this:
I ask them: “Are you hungry? Cuz this cafeteria’s serving a killer knuckle sandwich!” Then I rear back and sock em right in the mouth, sending ‘culture shock’ back to where it came from. Boo Yeah! (Take note, I don’t allow them to answer yes or no to my question because there’s too much of a chance that they’ll answer no, and I’ll be stuck with an uneaten sandwich)

Don’t worry, I won’t slug you if you diagnose me. But if I snap one day and I start rearing back, know what’s coming! You can’t say that I haven’t warned you.