Happily 'Til the Next One

“When you tell [grown-ups] that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you, ‘What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?’ Instead, they demand: ‘How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?’ Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him… you might say to them: ‘The proof that the little prince existed is that he was charming, that he laughed, and that he was looking for a sheep. If anybody wants a sheep, that is a proof that he exists.’ And what good would it do to tell them that? They would shrug their shoulders, and treat you like a child. But if you said to them: ‘The planet he came from is Asteroid B-612,’ then they would be convinced, and leave you in peace from their questions.”  --Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

 I went for coffee with Kate yesterday, and we realized we were both having similar fears and doubts about what we should do with ourselves.  We talked about our attempts at making the "right" choices in our lives, and how when you're afraid of making the wrong choice, it's generally due to the belief that there is a right one - that just around the corner, there will be a decision that will set off the grand chain of events that is your real life, and it will define who you become.  Do I want to be a teacher or a writer?  Speak Polish or Spanish?  A traveler or a mother?  And poof!  That's what you are.  But if you make the wrong choice, then you are (forever) the wrong thing. 

 But that's not the way it works, is it?  There is no final decision, the one that sets everything up.  One choice flows into another, and another, and another.  The most you can say, really, is that making a decision  is better than just letting things happen to you.  And that you really can't make more than one major choice at a time, make some master plan, and expect a good result.  Because the world you create with your first decision will change how you look at the second.  But despite all the pressure, does it somehow bring us comfort to believe that this majestic moment, this imposing decision, is out there, waiting for us?  That once we get it out of the way, we'll be all sorted out?  We'll know what we are?  Or to put it another way: Are we that ludicrous grown-up in our own lives who insists on knowing only the most inessential facts about ourselves? 

 For all I might say about not letting other people judge me, it has still been me, telling myself that I'm trying to become something that causes me most of my heartache when I try to slap some kind of label on myself and figure myself out.  Because even if I am a teacher, or a mother, or a traveler, what else does that say about me?  Does it change what my voice sounds like or what games I love best?  Or the fact that my best friend can still make me laugh so hard I snort?  Of course not.  Things change when you make any decision, but things change every day anyway.  A decision doesn't put me in a box where I have to be like all the other teachers, mothers, wives, single women or travelers in the world.  

Anyway, I guess my point is this: maybe it's not so comforting to think that I'll never quite be properly figured out, but it's more realistic and more forgiving.  And frankly, it feels kind of good.  I'm free to do whatever I want - I don't have to think about what it will make me, besides happier, or wiser, or at the very least, someone with a good story to tell.

Little Reminders

How many times do I have to learn the same thing over again?  I keep forgetting.  I've been stressed for weeks, trying to figure out what exactly I'm doing, where my life is heading, and how it's going to "turn out."  Then I was walking home from doing the shopping (and Spring has finally come to Szczecin, which brings me no end to joy) and I was listening to Iron & Wine, and I remembered the thing I don't want to have to keep learning the hard way:


Fuck happy endings.  It ends when you die.  
I'm gonna have a happy life.

Anyway, just thought I'd share, in case anyone else needed or wanted reminding.

A Guatemalan Summer

Casa Guatemala is a home and school for orphaned, abused and abandoned children.  The Children’s Village is located in the jungle on the banks of the Rio Dulce near the Caribbean coast in Eastern Guatemala.  It is accessible only by boat.  They care for over 250 children, relying on volunteers from around the world to do so.  Last week, I sent them a letter of application  to be a volunteer for the summer, and on Thursday I received a reply.  They want me to come.  I looked over their orientation guide for volunteers and today I wrote back, confirming with them my desire to go.  I will be spending three months there this summer, as soon as the school year is done here at the end of June.  It is an amazing organization that has been helping children for over thirty years in a country where many of the children desperately need help.

I don’t know for sure what my work will consist of, but probably I will do a variety of things.  They need people to do all of the things that parents usually do: wake the children up, get them ready for school, make sure they brush their teeth, eat, do their chores, etc.  They need people to help at the school.  They need help with their farm, and with the small hotel down the river that helps them to fund the Children’s Village.  I do know it won't be easy.  I’ll be living in the jungle.  Cold water, no electricity after 8pm, wild animals, simple living conditions.  Most of these children will have seen trouble I can’t begin to imagine.  And there are a lot of them.  But I think it will be incredibly fulfilling.  And even if it wasn’t, I’d still think it was important for me to do.

The decision to do this has been incredibly easy in some ways and incredibly difficult in others.  There has been no doubt in my mind about wanting to work with these children, notwithstanding the challenges I mentioned above.  But it’s not without sacrifice.  It will cost money to get all the way to the Rio Dulce from Szczecin.  It will cost very little to get by once I’m there, but I am also foregoing the possibility to make money this summer.  I’m leaving a comfortable flat, friends, and the relative safety of Poland behind for something unknown.  It might turn out to be better for me – I have been awfully skeptical lately about just how much “developed” society has truly done to improve the quality of peoples’ lives – but it will certainly require adjustment.   All of that in mind, I’m genuinely excited about this.  It feels right. And if you know me, you know that though it may take some time for me to make up my mind, once I’ve decided on what I want, it takes something awfully strong to get in my way for me to give up.  So I will do this, whatever it takes.

I once read an interview with someone who had done amazing things to rebuild a small village in Africa that had been ravaged by war. He was asked how he’d managed to do as much as he had, and he said that it was thanks to all the help he got from friends and family, from strangers, from all over.  They asked him how he got all these people to get involved, and he said, “I asked them.”  Well, asking for help hasn’t always been by strong suit, but this is really important to me, so I’ve decided to start.  

Here goes: I could use some help.  So far, nearly everyone has been really supportive and positive about this, and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for that.  It’s probably the most important thing you can do to help me.  Honestly. 

But here are a few other things I’m concerned about:

• Airfare/living expenses:  This is probably my primary concern right now.  My plan is simply to save up money from work, and throw in my small tax return from 2010 to make up as much as I can, and make do with that. But you can help, too.  Maybe you (or someone you know) has airline miles you’re not using.  Maybe you know of the best website in the world for finding cheap travel deals.  Or where I can get some freelance writing or translating work on the internet (I can’t just wait tables here – my Polish isn’t good enough).  Or maybe you’ve always wanted to give me a birthday or Christmas present and never knew what to get.  Maybe you’d like to get me this year’s presents now, and have one less person on your list come December (I know, I know, it’s only March.  But I’m happy to forego gifts when these events come around in exchange for this opportunity.  There is nothing I am really lacking that can be wrapped up in paper and put under a tree.)  If you want to help me out with money, I have a paypal account under the email r.studinski (at) bellschools.pl.  Now, I know times are tough for everyone, especially in Wisconsin, right now, so I’m not expecting a lot of financial help, but I think it’s better to say this than leave it unsaid: in the event that your help (airline miles, money, etc.) allows me to come out of this with more than I need to get there and have my basic needs met, I will turn any leftover money into a direct financial contribution to Casa Guatemala.  It will not go into my bank account for beer or new shoes or whatever.
• Spanish lessons: I have exactly one year of junior high Spanish and a few months at a Milwaukee Community Center class.  I know at least some of the kids take English lessons, but they communicate in Spanish.  I’ve been working on brushing up (and learning new things), and my roommate Angela has been very encouraging and helpful, despite not speaking the language herself.  I know a few of you speak it, though. Maybe you want to write me emails in Spanish, or skype with me.  Maybe you don’t mind if I write you with random questions about the language.   Maybe you could come up with a list of useful expressions for me – you know, things like: “Give that back to him!” and “Take that out of your nose,” and “We don’t bite our friends!”
• A backpack: I will need to travel light, but I’m going to be in Guatemala for 3 months, and there are certain things I need to take.  I think a real backpackers pack is my best bet.  They are expensive.  I’m looking into buying one second-hand, but perhaps one of my readers has one I could borrow for the summer instead?  If you have to mail it to me, I can reimburse you for shipping, as it will still probably be cheaper than buying one.  I don’t mind if it’s not in brand-new condition or anything.  In fact, that’s probably better.  I don’t need to walk around looking like I have a lot of money.

OK, those are the main things I can think of right now that I have been concerned about. I’ll keep updating this blog as I make plans.  If you can help in any way, I’ll be forever indebted to you.  If you can’t, maybe you know someone who can, and you could pass this link on to them.  But as I said, the most important thing I can get from you is your support.  I'm sure this is the right thing to do, but it’s very different from anything I’ve ever done before.  So I'm a bit scared.  Maybe you have some experience that you think would be helpful for me to hear about, or you have some inspiring music for me, or you know of something that always makes you feel better when you’re nervous.  Maybe, somewhere along the way, you’ll just have a kind word for me when I get freaked out.  So far, you’ve been wonderful, and I couldn’t love you more for that.

So, thank you.  Again, and in advance, for helping me live my dreams.

Open Letter Home

Sat. 12 March 2011
I wrote this entry Thursday afternoon, just after I read the news from Wisconsin, when I was in the full swing of my rage about what's happened there.  As a result, it is full of anger and sarcasm.  I can think of one person I know who would almost certainly say it is downright bitter. 
Firstly, that's not necessarily who I want to be.  And secondly, I know a lot of my readers back home in Wisconsin are probably getting plenty of rage and hatred and spewing, both on the news and in personal conversations.  So I've considered taking it down entirely.  But I felt it, I wrote it, and a lot of you read it, so instead I'm putting it behind this warning: It's pretty angry.  
The end is hopeful, though, I think.  So, if you're up for it:

Llego a ser alguien

The last few days, I’ve been talking to people about my desire to go to Guatemala this summer to work with the orphans at the children’s village I’ve been learning about.  I’ve been congratulated, and I’ve been scolded.  I’ve been offered support and encouragement, and I’ve heard questions and suggestions.  Why Guatemala? Is it safe there?  You should try to find a safer country, a position where you’ll get paid to do good things.  Wouldn’t it be cheaper just to send them money?  I welcome these questions, because it is an  exceptionally difficult thing to do, and I should be damn sure I really want to do it before I get on that plane.  I should make sure I’ve thought of things that could go wrong.  I should make sure I know why I really want to do this.

And in all of this, it’s occurred to me that Evie’s been right all this time, going on about the self-esteem movement gone too far.  I think a lot of people in my generation grow up expecting that by the age of 30 they will either be Bill Gates or Ghandi.  So many people I know who can’t decide what to do with their lives – not even because they don’t know what they want, but because they can’t decide if it’s what they deserve, or what is the best use of their many talents, or if it’s “good enough.”  Like if they can’t do the exact thing they want to right now, they might as well not even try.  Myself included.  Maybe myself most of all.  But it’s pretty obvious to me when I see Wisconsin assemblymen and women holding meetings out in the freezing cold and snow,  or when I see how my grandmother cooks and bakes for her neighbors when they’re ill, or how my brother and sister (in-law…psh) have gone about raising my niece to be such a beautiful, caring person – and my young nephew well on his way – that there are so many ways to make a better world.  And these are only three examples of the many things we all take for granted.  Not just when other people do them, but when we do them ourselves.  I know sometimes each of these people I just described must feel like they haven’t done enough.  But if there are a million ways to make things better, we should do the one that feels right on us.  If we try to force ourselves to do it in a way that “looks” right, we’ll never be able to do it well.

So why do I want to go and do this?  Because if it’s about my perception of myself as “loving,” or “giving,” then I need to think harder, because that’s not going to get me through the tough days.  But I don’t think it is.  In the end, I really do want to do this because some very basic part of me believes in re-kindling the inherent trust and innocence of children.  Not just giving them concrete things like food and clothing and an education (though of course you can’t do much without those things. You must begin, as Lewis Carroll said, “at the beginning”), but also showing them that someone cares about them.  That they have worthwhile hopes, familiar fears, and achievable dreams.  That even as relatively powerless children, they have value and they deserve to be heard, and there is something in them to love.  That their best is nothing short of miraculous.  And there are a million ways to do this work.  The best way I think I can do it, with my temperament and my abilities, is to be there.  To look them in the eyes and be with them while they eat breakfast, get ready for class, do their chores.  To scold them when they lie, or fight, or steal.  To tuck them into bed at night.

Why does it have to be Guatemala?  It doesn’t.  But reading about this place struck something in my heart, and I haven’t been able to let it go.  Why three months?  Because it’s how much time I have away from my job.  And because kids need some semblance of stability.  Not just a week here and a week there.  And after a few months with the children (because you have to compromise, and I can’t live there full time) I will come back to my work for a while.  Be “reasonable.” Pay my bills.  Maybe save up for a chance to do it (or something like it) again next summer.  Is it safe?  Parts of Guatemala are, parts aren’t.  Like any country.  Also, see my last post.  I don’t have all the answers, and I know it will be hard, but my conviction gets stronger by the hour.  If there’s any way to make it happen by the end of June, you’ll know where to find me then.

And hey, don’t worry, Mom.  Maybe I’ll come home someday.  If Scott Walker gets his way, I’ll be talking about helping all the needy people in 3^rd world Wisconsin soon.

Too far?