Being Satisfied...or not
Feeling the need to write it all down. To remember how thankful I am for so many loving people and incredible opportunities in my life. Write it all down in order to preserve what might be lost to the daily regiment that we often find ourselves in. This idea of being satisfied continues to resurface in my mind. My thoughts are often trickling back to this notion of "enough". What is enough? A roof over one's head. Enough food to be healthy? The means for a daily laugh, intellectual stimulation? or a big house and a fancy car, countless friends and a full social calender?
I would guess as in all things, enough too is a matter of perspective and unless one sees another's perspective the measurement of enough will never be equal. I have had more than enough in many ways at many times throughout my life. Thank God. Yet, at times I have sunk to the thoughts involving: I Want More. Why is that?
I am facing a crossroads in my life. A major decision. Sure I've been at this sort of impasse before, but somehow this time it feels like it isn't as much about me as it was 15 or 10 years ago. This time it seems that no matter what decision I make, somehow someone will not be happy, including me. How does one begin to even think about what to do? When there is no one right answer but 100 possible right answers. I guess I could stop fretting and look at that as a blessing since many people don't even have 1 right answer to choose at times in life.
Here's the deal: I have to leave EARJ after this year. I will have fulfilled the 5 years alotted as an expat teacher with the school. I cannot continue directly. I have the option, after a minimum of 6 months, of reapplying and returning, pending vacancy, to the school. But I cannot continue as is after June 2011.
What do I do?
I am happier and halthier in Brasil than I have ever been in my lifetime. I guess I sorta saw that coming when we moved here in 2006, but I had no idea it would be this influential. I knew then what I know now about how much this country feels like where I belong, but I had no idea it would get into my soul the way it has.
Do I stay? Pound the pavement. Push my professional life in another direction? Feed creative energies and return to writing? Publish the book I've always wanted to publish? Do I seek another international post? There are a lot of places in the world. A lot of great schools around the globe looking for educators. Living in another country would be a worthy experience for my daughter. It would be a financially comfortable life. It would be stimulating. It would be challenging.
What do you do when you don't have control? Or you don't feel like you have control? When you can't see the answers to the questions that are floating around in your head. When you would like to know the future. When you are forced to make a change that you don't necessarily want to make? The truth is that the options are limitless. That's what makes it so hard. There are too many options and I have no guarantee what the outcome of any one of the options will be.
I want to be 5 again. I want to hear: You can have the grape popsicle or the orange popsicle. You pick. I want the choice to be that easy.
But it's not...
Monday, May 31, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Riding a Bicycle
Writing is kinda like riding a bicycle. Ok, not really. Maybe it's more like driving a car. It's something you learn through concentrated, deliberate, hopefully well guided practice before you can consider yourself versed in the task. I used to be a writer. But I haven't been practicing. And now being out of practice makes me envy all those beautiful things I read for the talent portrayed in the work.
I just spent 30 minutes reading other people's blogs (there are some beautiful things written on some of these blogs. Some real talent that would sell if transformed into print). At least they are people I know. It's not like I was surfing random blogs. It left me with this feeling of loss, emptiness...I used to do that. I used to be good at that. I'm not feeling very good at it anymore. Why not? Because I don't do it anymore, and I'm fighting this language war inside my head almost 24 hours a day. Thinking in English, speaking in Portuguese, dreaming in English, retelling the dream in Portuguese, working in English, socializing in Portuguese. It's like having two little armies between my ears battling it out for ownership of the podium. Once in awhile Captain Port. wins the battle and both the thoughts and the words end up in his mother's tongue. Most of the time, it's a clustered, confused combination of two languages and some garble.
In the end, this language acquisition experience of the past 4 years has left me feeling slightly less intelligent and hugely less verbose. I used to be characterized as verbose. Ask me where something is and I'll explain to you how it was built and arrived at its current state. Not anymore. Hey, Sara, where's the extra garrafa of agua (see the mixture of language there). My answer would be: in the cozinha. Some days I feel ill-prepared to formulate even one complete sentence.
I'm a writing teacher. And a pretty good one if I do say so myself. My students generally improve their writing skills by 3-4 years as a result of having my class. How can I be so good at telling other people what to do, but so bad at doing it myself? Practice, or lack there of. I know what it takes to be a good writer. I know training and determination makes you a better writer, but I don't have anyone hanging the "A" over my head for producing the next great blog post. So, I don't practice and I don't train. But I sure know how to tell my students they need more organization. Maybe that means it is more about the pressure and needing external stimulation...hmmm, that sounds like a totally different topic and perhaps one that would be appropriately discussed with my shrink (if I had one, which I don't but am now considering hiring).
Why isn't riding a bike the same as writing? You can learn to ride when you're 5 years old, ride like the wind until your 15 and start driving and not get on a single bicycle again for 20 years, but still ride like the wind without a moment hesitation when you do. Is it the pure motor memory that kicks in and leaves out any real need for intelligence? I don't know. Hopefully driving a car is the same because I just bought one and get to pick it up in 3 days. Let's hope I remember how to do that.
Writing is kinda like riding a bicycle. Ok, not really. Maybe it's more like driving a car. It's something you learn through concentrated, deliberate, hopefully well guided practice before you can consider yourself versed in the task. I used to be a writer. But I haven't been practicing. And now being out of practice makes me envy all those beautiful things I read for the talent portrayed in the work.
I just spent 30 minutes reading other people's blogs (there are some beautiful things written on some of these blogs. Some real talent that would sell if transformed into print). At least they are people I know. It's not like I was surfing random blogs. It left me with this feeling of loss, emptiness...I used to do that. I used to be good at that. I'm not feeling very good at it anymore. Why not? Because I don't do it anymore, and I'm fighting this language war inside my head almost 24 hours a day. Thinking in English, speaking in Portuguese, dreaming in English, retelling the dream in Portuguese, working in English, socializing in Portuguese. It's like having two little armies between my ears battling it out for ownership of the podium. Once in awhile Captain Port. wins the battle and both the thoughts and the words end up in his mother's tongue. Most of the time, it's a clustered, confused combination of two languages and some garble.
In the end, this language acquisition experience of the past 4 years has left me feeling slightly less intelligent and hugely less verbose. I used to be characterized as verbose. Ask me where something is and I'll explain to you how it was built and arrived at its current state. Not anymore. Hey, Sara, where's the extra garrafa of agua (see the mixture of language there). My answer would be: in the cozinha. Some days I feel ill-prepared to formulate even one complete sentence.
I'm a writing teacher. And a pretty good one if I do say so myself. My students generally improve their writing skills by 3-4 years as a result of having my class. How can I be so good at telling other people what to do, but so bad at doing it myself? Practice, or lack there of. I know what it takes to be a good writer. I know training and determination makes you a better writer, but I don't have anyone hanging the "A" over my head for producing the next great blog post. So, I don't practice and I don't train. But I sure know how to tell my students they need more organization. Maybe that means it is more about the pressure and needing external stimulation...hmmm, that sounds like a totally different topic and perhaps one that would be appropriately discussed with my shrink (if I had one, which I don't but am now considering hiring).
Why isn't riding a bike the same as writing? You can learn to ride when you're 5 years old, ride like the wind until your 15 and start driving and not get on a single bicycle again for 20 years, but still ride like the wind without a moment hesitation when you do. Is it the pure motor memory that kicks in and leaves out any real need for intelligence? I don't know. Hopefully driving a car is the same because I just bought one and get to pick it up in 3 days. Let's hope I remember how to do that.
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