Sometimes I like to facebook stalk old pictures of myself and remember a time when I was clean, and I smelled good, and had long pretty hair, was (somewhat) fashionable, and wasn’t sweating 24 hours a day.
Sometimes I like to read other Peace Corps blogs/journals and remind myself that I’m not as alone as I sometimes feel.
Sometimes, actually all the time, I like to facebook stalk RPCVs (returned peace corps volunteers) and think to myself … “they did this too. And now they’re home.” I don’t know why that makes me feel good.
Sometimes I pretend I don’t speak Portuguese when I find someone extremely irritating and want to run away from them, ASAP.
Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about L.A. and what must be happening there.
Sometimes I miss my Mom (& family) so much that I …… cry… a little. Ahaha. Ok, a lot. Sorta.
Sometimes I wish I was in another place- although I don’t know where.
Sometimes I think back on the first few groups of Peace Corps volunteers that lived out in the bush with no electricity, cell phones, or internet and it makes me feel like a wuss. Talk about ‘Posh Corps.’
Sometimes I feel really proud of myself for leaving behind everything I once knew to come to a world unknown to me…
Sometimes I feel really motivated.
Sometimes, other times… I don’t give a f@#k about anything.
Sometimes I am amazed by the beauty of Mozambique and I feel like I landed in a tropical paradise.
Sometimes I can’t seem to figure out how I blew through my entire living allowance.
Sometimes I get really bored.
Sometimes I stress about shit I can’t control.
Sometimes I feel like I never want to have kids. Crianças in Mozambique will do that.
Sometimes I like to think about my friends serving in The Gambia, Ukraine, and Panama and wonder how they’re doing and what their experience must be like…
Sometimes I judge people and think to myself, “if they can get through this- I can too!”
Sometimes, I try to convince myself that he’s forgotten about me … as if doing this will lessen the blow when he actually does, “se que ya no volveras, se que muy lejos estas, que buscas otro lugar…”
Sometimes I find myself waiting and counting down the hours until the sun goes down.
Sometimes, actually, all the time- I think “It must be _:__ o’clock in L.A..” I find the 10 hour time difference really inconvenient.
Sometimes I second guess myself.
Sometimes I feel like a fucking badass >:D ahah.
Sometimes I wonder if I can stick this out.
Sometimes, 2 years seems like an eternity.
Sometimes, I feel really lucky to be here.
… and even though my work as a volunteer hasn’t hit full mode yet, and I sometimes feel like I’m so unproductive and a waste of tax payer dollars, … I am relieved to not be stuck in that tedious, hourly-job- grind back home and happy to be exploring a place that I would've never had the chance to if I wasn't a PCV.
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