Monthly Archives: March 2011

In which she dreams scariness & wakes herself up

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Haven’t been sleeping well lately.  Insomnia is back again.  Actually having bad dreams and waking myself up.  I’m not a big dreamer, so it’s always shocking when I actually remember having one.

Lately they’ve been about death and suicide.  Horrible, right?  *wibble*

I looked up the meanings so I would quit scaring myself.  Here are some possible interpretations:

Dreams of Death

Symbolizes inner changes, transformation, self-discovery and positive development that is happening within you or your life.

You are undergoing a transitional phase and are becoming more enlightened or spiritual.

Although such a dream may bring about feelings of fear and anxiety, it is no cause for alarm as it is often considered a positive symbol.

Dreams of experiencing your own death usually means that big changes are ahead for you. You are moving on to new beginnings and leaving the past behind. It is symbolic of a personal transformation or a new stage in your life.

These changes do not necessarily imply a negative turn of events. Metaphorically, dying can be seen as an end or a termination to your old ways and habits. So, dying does not always mean a physical death, but an ending of something.

*****

Okay, yeah, this makes sense now.

What Is My Purpose In Life?

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This is a reprint (aka, my notes) of Jacob Sokol @ Sensophy’s awesome blog post of the same nameREAD IT! Copying it here so as not to lose it in the black hole that is my blog favorites.  I am and will continue to work on answering these questions for myself.  It’s a work in progress…

What is my purpose in life?

“Everyone has a purpose in life… a unique gift or special talent to give to others. And when we blend this unique talent with service to others, we experience the ecstasy and exultation of our own spirit, which is the ultimate goal of all goals.” –Deepak Chopra

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Quote of the Day

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WARNING

“If you are reading this then this warning is for you. Every word you read of this useless fine print is another second off your life. Don’t you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can’t think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all that claim it? Do you read everything you’re supposed to read? Do you think every thing you’re supposed to think? Buy what you’re told to want? Get out of your apartment. Meet a member of the opposite sex. Stop the excessive shopping and masturbation. Quit your job. Start a fight. Prove you’re alive. If you don’t claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned ….. Tyler”

—Fight Club

 

Fight Club

Have I mentioned I don’t like cars?

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So….today found me behind the wheel of a car….the steering wheel, that is.

*pout*

The concept of me actually driving hasn’t come up in about 4 years, so it was a bit of a surprise when the opportunity presented itself.  But since they don’t believe in alternative forms of transportation here, it was bound to come up one of these days.

On a semi-related note, I’ve been working on my ability to say “no”, to not agree to things that make me uncomfortable/unhappy/stressed/whatever, to react in my own manner instead of how I think other people want me to react.

So back to the driving incident…

I was happily enjoying the comfy chair at Starbucks, the reward for a long energetic walk down the trail, when I got a call from my sister.  With the help of a friend, she had delivered her car to the shop for whatever it is you do at the shop.  But after getting the call that the car was ready for pickup, was unable to find someone free to drive her back over there.

I was her last hope.  Like Luke Skywalker.

My sister asked me if there was any chance I would consider driving her over in the other car.  She knew I would probably be at my SBUX and was in the area.  I mumbled something about “maybe” and she promptly showed up to pick me up.

Yikes!

I got in the minivan (passenger side), and immediately started crying!

Wow, really?

Panicking at the possibility of maybe driving??

She drove us back over to the house and we sat in her driveway for quite awhile.  She brainstormed other ways of getting her car, while I went through tissue after tissue, as my brain processed the situation.

On one hand, I didn’t want to agree to something I was not comfortable with, just because I “should” do it.  I didn’t want to feel pressured by obligation – one of my big no-no’s.

But then again, it wasn’t like I didn’t know how to drive.  And it was only for a short distance.  (Now if it was a road trip to another city, then no, I couldn’t actually, physically, do that because driving puts me to sleep and that’s just dangerous.)  But it was only a few miles away, to the shop and back.  And I could drive my sister’s Subaru, which would be easier than the big minivan.

So what was the big hairy deal??

I’m scared of this city.  It’s a lawless place with dangerous and selfish drivers.  I would rather ride a scooter in Big City Asia.

But probably, mostly, I was just freaking myself out at the fear of the unknown.  I hadn’t driven a car in years, I didn’t know these streets, or the car, and I didn’t trust the drivers on the road.  Great Big Scary Unknown. This was NOT an acceptable reason to say no.

Thankfully my sister was very patient and understanding with my tears and thought process.  Never actually pressuring me to just Help Her Out, Dammit!

Finally put on my Big Girl Panties, took a deep breath, and made the oh-so-very-brave decision to Just Do It!

We drove out to the shop, I hopped in the Subaru, figured out what/where everything was, did a test drive around the block to make sure I knew what I was doing, and then we were off!

As soon as I was actually driving, I was fine.  No stress.  No tears.  I followed my sister all the way back to her house and didn’t get lost or run into anything.

It wasn’t until I parked (poorly) and got out of the car, that I realized my hands were shaking.  But I was proud of myself for doing something scary, for conquering my fear of that particular unknown.

My sis drove back to work (because she’s a crazy workaholic) and I WALKED the mile down the hill to the nearest pub.

I needed a drink!

Familia

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My home-sickness for Chile has gotten worse.

I’ve never had such a strong connection with a place before.  I’ve moved around a lot, loved many cities and communities.  Home is where I hang my hat.  But really fitting in?  That’s been few and far between.

About a decade ago, I attempted a move to southern California to try to “connect” with my birthplace.  That did not go well at all.  But if I hadn’t tried, I wouldn’t have experienced that “absence of connection”. That was important.

A totally different story with Chile, my mother’s country, el país de mis parientes.  I didn’t need to “try to find a connection”, it came naturally.  Even more surprising, never having been much of a family type person, was the realization on how well I connected with my family there.

“Chilean me” finally found a place where she fits in!

And then I up and leave.  *facepalm*  What the hell was I thinking?!?

I’m gonna go cry in my pillow now.

Just a small family get-together.

Spring forward!

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Yay time change!

This has always been my favorite time change of the year.  Why?  More sun!!!

In light of this “Spring Forward” season, I choose to work harder with my goal of moving forward with my goals – not backwards, sideways, or sitting still, but forward.  Nothing is going to happen if I don’t do it.

“Dare to live the life you have dreamed for yourself. Go forward and make your dreams come true.”   — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Who doesn’t love a good parade?

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Gotta say…I love a good parade.  Especially for St. Patrick’s Day!  I’ve celebrated in five different cities so far.  I look forward to experiencing other celebrations in cities around the world….like Ireland!

The amazing parade floats, drinking in public, and avoiding the flying cabbage on the streets of New Orleans is fun times!  My favorite, so far, has been the giant parade in Denver, one of the biggest celebrations in the US.  I also love small town parades, like in Fort Collins, which are all about the community.  Last year was definitely the weirdest, being in another country.  Chile obviously doesn’t celebrate the holiday, or even understand what the big deal is.  Gotta love it!  🙂

This year’s parade time found me in Colorado Springs.  Definitely a different experience.  I got to enjoy the festivities with a sister and brother who live here, as well as with a new friend I’ve made.  The “holiday vibe” was very different here.  The police presence was pretty huge (this town has violent tendencies).  The parade was more of a big advertisement opportunity, rather than the community participation that I prefer to see.

Usually, I would hit up an Irish pub with friends, but today I ended up at a Jamaican restaurant for lunch, with a Red Stripe in my hand instead of a Guinness.  But that’s okay, it’s all good.  I’ll save the Irish Stout for the 17th!

Here’s a couple snapshots I took today with my phone:

Bagpipers marching in the Springs parade

Llamas! And baby llamas!!!

Quite a big difference from last year.  No parades, of course, but I did find an Expat pub, in Santiago, Chile, that was celebrating the holiday.  Had a fabulous time and ended up meeting a ton of amazing people, both expat and local.  Since I don’t have many pics, I’ll throw in some pictures from last year’s celebration at California Cantina ….

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Lonely stuff

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“Stuff” has turned into a dirty word for me.  It haunts me.

My stuff has been sitting in a friend’s basement for 19 months, being all lonely.  I miss my stuff.  Well…I miss the idea of my stuff.  I had some good stuff.

(Could I say “stuff” any more times?! 😉 )

Anyway… back in January, I needed to get away for the weekend.  So I abandoned my big suitcase, packed a little travel bag, and took 4 buses and 9 hours to travel from northern Colorado to southern Colorado to visit family (CO is not big on their public travel options).  One thing led to another and that weekend turned into 5 weeks and counting!

*waves*

Obviously I packed light, for a weekend.  Here’s what I’ve been living with for the last month+:

  • 1 brown t-shirt
  • 1 white short-sleeved blouse
  • 1 pair jeans
  • 1 brown fleece sweater
  • 1 black hoody
  • 1 cream corduroy coat, w/ matching scarf, hat, gloves
  • jammies & slipper socks
  • some undies & 3 pairs socks
  • 1 pair black Dansko walking shoes
  • bathroom bag with travel-size necessities
  • hair brush & flat iron
  • netbook & external drive
  • little blue journal & pen
  • 1 library book (overdue now!)
  • camera (forgot the cord)
  • cell phone & charger
  • small travel duffle bag
  • and the ever-present messenger

My constant companion

I’ve been living out of my big red suitcase for a year & a half (which some may think of as extreme in itself), but now after living for over a month with 20-some items, minimalism is sounding so much easier!  Except I wouldn’t mind having more than 2 outfits, and another pair of shoes!  I really could have used my winter boots during the month of February, just sayin’. Oh, and a hairdryer would be nice.

The “right” dream

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“What’s your dream, your passion, what do you want to ‘be’ when you grown up?”

Biggest question ever, and always beyond my reach.  It never occurred to me that “travel” was a valid response!

Travel is what you do for vacation, your reward for suffering through a shitty, soul-sucking job. You still have to live in the “real world” and follow some kind of career plan like everyone else.

That’s all I ever heard. But it never sat well with me.

Then again, I was never one to take a “relaxing” vacation.  Taking time off and staying home would NEVER occur to me.  What is that about?!  I always had to GO somewhere, anywhere, the farther the better.  I would booked myself so solid, every traveling minute filled, because I never knew when I’d be able to travel again.  I’d barely leave myself enough time to fly home, change clothes, and get back to work on time.  I didn’t have time for jetlag.

I didn’t “live to work”.  I “put up with work” and lived for the days when I could travel.  And continued, year after year, to figure out something brilliant to do with my life.  To find that acceptable dream/passion/job that could materialize into the perfect career for me.

It’s not that I couldn’t realize my dreams, I just never realized I was “allowed” to dream of travel.

The world = that’s my passion!