Aqui y ahora, Ms. Beagan.
January is almost over, and January has been like a dream.
Que suenho!
So far, I have spent 2005 hovering between 3 inches and 3 feet above my body, just outside reality. I'm still physically in Chicago for the most part, but I have been behaving like I am not.
When you are so excited about the unknown just around the corner, it's a little hard to stay aqui y ahora. I feel like I did ten years ago, in January 1995 when I was a senior in high school and just SO done with both Coventry High School, and with Rhode Island in general. The months leading up to my September departure for college in Machias, Maine were spent in a haze of marijuana, disaffected adolescent malaise, and frequent escapes to Providence, Boston, or the beach.
And I'm guilty of the same behavior now, though I haven't been stoned in a while and I tend now to leave the country rather than the state for weekend adventuring. I have to admit, gentle reader, that I have been lazy at both of my jobs, just punching the clock and biding my time.
But it is NOT June yet. And dream though I may of flying away, I have to stay grounded and take care of what needs me. Thanks go out to JL, my maddeningly stable rock and voice of reason, for not giving me the vacation time to run off to Venezuela in three weeks. Financially it's not a good idea, and I really am needed at work right now. He suggested that I'll probably need a vacation more in April, and I can't help but agree. That's also his subtle way of telling me not to ask for any time off until then.
JL always reminds me to let reason, not emotion, lead me. He's right, and thanks to his influence I don't feel as prone to flights of irrationality as I used to be. But it's true, jaunting off to Venezuela or ANYWHERE right now is a bad idea. It's an emotional decision, not a rational one. I have bills to pay, I have things to do. I still live in Chicago and I still have responsibilities here.
And I need to remind myself of this when I'm sitting in a meeting, or in the office cafeteria; when conversation whirls around me, and I feel myself detaching, and rising up, and beginning to drift away just a little too soon.
1.26.2005
Passing Time
Last night Dustin came over for "girl talk" and pizza. It had been since New Years that we'd seen each other, and it was wonderful to catch up on jobs, boys, spirituality, and where we are both heading in general. My best girlfriend in Chicago is a gay man, and I love him to pieces. It's the 21st century, gentle reader, so get over it.
Tonight, CJ and JS from the office came over to watch "Office Space." Even without ever having squandered too many of your life's finite and precious hours in a cubicle, one may certainly appreciate the movie for its trenchant satire. But to watch it with my comrades-in-arms in Corporate America caused the movie to acquire an extra-special, almost manifesto quality.
And after this time passes, I will write the greatest book about it from L'Amerique du Sud.
Tonight, CJ and JS from the office came over to watch "Office Space." Even without ever having squandered too many of your life's finite and precious hours in a cubicle, one may certainly appreciate the movie for its trenchant satire. But to watch it with my comrades-in-arms in Corporate America caused the movie to acquire an extra-special, almost manifesto quality.
And after this time passes, I will write the greatest book about it from L'Amerique du Sud.
A Little Taste
I've just returned from a long weekend in Mexico, and it's given me a brief window into what I can expect once I leave the States this summer. Granted, a weekend trip is much different than spending weeks or months: the entire atmosphere is rarified and dreamlike as compared to the concrete frustrations and undulations of day-to-day life in an unfamiliar place. The first and most glaring lesson is that I MUST LEARN SPANISH. Now, this statement is both painfully obvious and much easier said than done. I know that when I get to Venezuela this summer, the immersion will lead first to facility and eventually fluency, after much time and much hard work. But I feel that I need the academic underpinnings of grammar and conversation before I try to navigate the multivalent slang and accents I'll find in country. I know that I am a visual learner, and remember new words best once I have seen and spelled them, so I will enroll this week in a local adult education course in Spanish 2. Two hours, one night a week for ten weeks. It's not ideal (I'd prefer 2 hours FIVE times a week until I can order food or ask for directions, then UNDERSTAND those directions), but it's a start.
The other thing I have to get used to is NOT blending in. At all. In my previous travels around the States and in Europe, the merging subtlety of my gringa features and admittedly Eurotrash fashion sense have permitted a certain amount of anonymity. This is so much the case that I have been stopped on the streets of London, Paris, Dublin, and Rome by individuals seeking directions from me. The wash of mild horror when I open my mouth and they realized they've just asked an American is priceless.
But down south, I do not blend in. Even if perfect Spanish could roll across my lips, I'm still a gringa: pale skin, pointy nose, green eyes, wrong clothes, "blonde" hair, etc. (PS. I'm so NOT blonde, but I wish I had a peso for every time someone called me "blonde" when I was in Mexico). And when AK and I talk about our "gringa pride" I forget that I WILL be a minority, and that there will be certain things about me that are betrayed and assumed simply from the first sight of me. Of course, this is part of the reason for making this move, but I feel a certain vulnerability about it and I want to be prepared. So, since I won't ever be able to change looking like a gringa, or BEING a gringa for that matter, I want to be armed with a functional knowledge of conversation and conjugation before getting thrown in altogether.
However, my trip this past weekend did not just illuminate all of my shortcomings and the challenges I will face. It also reminded me of the richness and excitement of going to Latin America. At times I felt like a baby: vulnerable and a little overwhelmed, but postively intoxicated with the newness of it all, and of learning learning learning.
The other thing I have to get used to is NOT blending in. At all. In my previous travels around the States and in Europe, the merging subtlety of my gringa features and admittedly Eurotrash fashion sense have permitted a certain amount of anonymity. This is so much the case that I have been stopped on the streets of London, Paris, Dublin, and Rome by individuals seeking directions from me. The wash of mild horror when I open my mouth and they realized they've just asked an American is priceless.
But down south, I do not blend in. Even if perfect Spanish could roll across my lips, I'm still a gringa: pale skin, pointy nose, green eyes, wrong clothes, "blonde" hair, etc. (PS. I'm so NOT blonde, but I wish I had a peso for every time someone called me "blonde" when I was in Mexico). And when AK and I talk about our "gringa pride" I forget that I WILL be a minority, and that there will be certain things about me that are betrayed and assumed simply from the first sight of me. Of course, this is part of the reason for making this move, but I feel a certain vulnerability about it and I want to be prepared. So, since I won't ever be able to change looking like a gringa, or BEING a gringa for that matter, I want to be armed with a functional knowledge of conversation and conjugation before getting thrown in altogether.
However, my trip this past weekend did not just illuminate all of my shortcomings and the challenges I will face. It also reminded me of the richness and excitement of going to Latin America. At times I felt like a baby: vulnerable and a little overwhelmed, but postively intoxicated with the newness of it all, and of learning learning learning.
1.17.2005
We Can't Get There Fast Enough
Now the impatience is setting in.
AK found a quote somewhere that says "Impatience is a form of unbelief." But seriously, at this point, the only source of unbelief is that I have so much friggin' waiting to do.
It's still five months until I leave my job.
I'm going away for the weekend in 75 hours, and I swear that around 2 pm today, time officially slowed by half.
It's been years of navel-gazing, self-discipline, and introspection. I WORK every single day to remember, to remind myself to live in the moment. The divine Miss Kate, my alpha, my mentor and sage during the lost days, she taught me this. Aqui y ahora, it's the first thing I learned in Venezuela. The best mantra I could ask for.
But tonight, it's 7 degrees Fahrenheit in Chicago, there is nothing on TV but crappy reality shows, and I want to get the hell going. There are stinky dishes in the sink, and the closet looks like it vomited shoes halfway across the bedroom.
There is so much waiting for me just a little south of here, in a few days, in a few months. Aqui, invierno, soledad. Ahora, espero.
AK found a quote somewhere that says "Impatience is a form of unbelief." But seriously, at this point, the only source of unbelief is that I have so much friggin' waiting to do.
It's still five months until I leave my job.
I'm going away for the weekend in 75 hours, and I swear that around 2 pm today, time officially slowed by half.
It's been years of navel-gazing, self-discipline, and introspection. I WORK every single day to remember, to remind myself to live in the moment. The divine Miss Kate, my alpha, my mentor and sage during the lost days, she taught me this. Aqui y ahora, it's the first thing I learned in Venezuela. The best mantra I could ask for.
But tonight, it's 7 degrees Fahrenheit in Chicago, there is nothing on TV but crappy reality shows, and I want to get the hell going. There are stinky dishes in the sink, and the closet looks like it vomited shoes halfway across the bedroom.
There is so much waiting for me just a little south of here, in a few days, in a few months. Aqui, invierno, soledad. Ahora, espero.
1.15.2005
Swimming Upstream
It's Saturday, and it's time to recover from what has been a tough week.
As you know, I work in the Administration of an online university. My goal has always been to work in higher education, and I landed a very good job with my school. I was the fourth person hired in a department that is now home to over 40. Online education, though sometimes maligned, is the fastest-growing sector in higher education today, and there is a good reason for it. If you do not have a Bachelor's or even a Master's degree, you will eventually hit a ceiling in your career track. Schools like mine allow working adults an accelerated and convenient way to get the credentials and get on with it, in about 1/3 of the time.
The academe (ok, snob)in me bristled a bit when I was first recruited by the staffing agency about working for an online university. I had notions of Sally Struthers hawking some diploma program on cable, or of banner ads on MSN. While we do market agressively, the celebrity speakers at our graduation ceremonies are Neil Armstrong or Al Gore, not 1970's sitcom blondes. We have the same accreditation as the best universities in the country, including the ones you attended. And our attention to customer service (because let's face it, students are customers) is second to none.
Some critics will argue that online schools' only goal is to make money. Well, I defy you to find a school that is NOT out to make money. I have friends who are over $100,000 in debt for their education, and I myself owe over $50,000 for my terminal degree. And we all went to traditional schools.
Students pay for the opportunity to earn a degree when they attend ANY university. The difference between the online and the brick-and-mortar is that we are for profit, and with that philosophy comes a strong value on customer service. And yes, it does benefit the company's bottom line when our retention rates are high and students continue to attend school.
But the real winners here are the adult students who work hard, who figure out how to juggle their jobs, their families, and their education in order to reach their goals. And with an online school, they have top-notch faculty, a super-attentive student advising team, the freedom to work whenever and wherever, and the opportunity to get the job done.
So obviously, online higher education has struck a chord, and I've worked hard to help build what we have today at my school. The days and weeks are long, and there is a lot to manage. This past week in particular has been exhausting. We had a new class start. This is not uncommon, and it happens several times a year like clockwork. This also brings in a wave of frenzied activity. But while most universities have one freshman class a year, we have 8. Yes, 8. And these students all need to have their books, need to know how to navigate their new online learning environment, need to be coddled and reassured. After a few weeks, they either figure it out and take good care of themselves, or they withdraw. But it is those first tenuous days that require so much effort to take care of them and help them be successful.
Each class of students that begins with us is kind of like a spawn of salmon. Thousands of students will hatch and begin the long and arduous trip upstream toward getting their degree. My job, and that of my department, is to be an academic salmon weir, and assist the little buggers on their trip. We don't want too many of them to swim off course or get eaten. It's not easy, and we are often met with resistance on several fronts.
Obviously the 6-day weeks and 10-hour days can wear you down, especially in a week like the one that was. Administration runs at the same hyperspeed as the students, but we don't have graduation as our goal and terminus. So for today, I will read Neruda. I will clean my apartment. I will go have a manicure. And I will go back to work tomorrow, on Sunday, to make sure things are running smoothly for all those new little salmon trying to get upstream.
As you know, I work in the Administration of an online university. My goal has always been to work in higher education, and I landed a very good job with my school. I was the fourth person hired in a department that is now home to over 40. Online education, though sometimes maligned, is the fastest-growing sector in higher education today, and there is a good reason for it. If you do not have a Bachelor's or even a Master's degree, you will eventually hit a ceiling in your career track. Schools like mine allow working adults an accelerated and convenient way to get the credentials and get on with it, in about 1/3 of the time.
The academe (ok, snob)in me bristled a bit when I was first recruited by the staffing agency about working for an online university. I had notions of Sally Struthers hawking some diploma program on cable, or of banner ads on MSN. While we do market agressively, the celebrity speakers at our graduation ceremonies are Neil Armstrong or Al Gore, not 1970's sitcom blondes. We have the same accreditation as the best universities in the country, including the ones you attended. And our attention to customer service (because let's face it, students are customers) is second to none.
Some critics will argue that online schools' only goal is to make money. Well, I defy you to find a school that is NOT out to make money. I have friends who are over $100,000 in debt for their education, and I myself owe over $50,000 for my terminal degree. And we all went to traditional schools.
Students pay for the opportunity to earn a degree when they attend ANY university. The difference between the online and the brick-and-mortar is that we are for profit, and with that philosophy comes a strong value on customer service. And yes, it does benefit the company's bottom line when our retention rates are high and students continue to attend school.
But the real winners here are the adult students who work hard, who figure out how to juggle their jobs, their families, and their education in order to reach their goals. And with an online school, they have top-notch faculty, a super-attentive student advising team, the freedom to work whenever and wherever, and the opportunity to get the job done.
So obviously, online higher education has struck a chord, and I've worked hard to help build what we have today at my school. The days and weeks are long, and there is a lot to manage. This past week in particular has been exhausting. We had a new class start. This is not uncommon, and it happens several times a year like clockwork. This also brings in a wave of frenzied activity. But while most universities have one freshman class a year, we have 8. Yes, 8. And these students all need to have their books, need to know how to navigate their new online learning environment, need to be coddled and reassured. After a few weeks, they either figure it out and take good care of themselves, or they withdraw. But it is those first tenuous days that require so much effort to take care of them and help them be successful.
Each class of students that begins with us is kind of like a spawn of salmon. Thousands of students will hatch and begin the long and arduous trip upstream toward getting their degree. My job, and that of my department, is to be an academic salmon weir, and assist the little buggers on their trip. We don't want too many of them to swim off course or get eaten. It's not easy, and we are often met with resistance on several fronts.
Obviously the 6-day weeks and 10-hour days can wear you down, especially in a week like the one that was. Administration runs at the same hyperspeed as the students, but we don't have graduation as our goal and terminus. So for today, I will read Neruda. I will clean my apartment. I will go have a manicure. And I will go back to work tomorrow, on Sunday, to make sure things are running smoothly for all those new little salmon trying to get upstream.
1.13.2005
My arm hurts
I had to get my Hepatitis A booster shot, una vacuna, today. I got the first one back in June 2004, (along with shots for Tetanus/Diptheria, Yellow Fever, and Typhus) before going to Venezuela for the first time, and now I'm superimmune for 20 years. The idea of not needing another HepA vacuna until I'm 46 is kind of nice. Though the idea of being 46 is downright terrifying.
The nurse at the travel clinic at Glenbrook Hospital, Glenbrook Illinios, filled out my Yellow Card and told me when I would need to be vaccinated again for all of the above. I've got ten years on the tetanus and yellow fever, but only three on the typhus. I lucked out with Glenbrook, and found the only place in the Chicagoland area who billed my insurance company for the first round of jabs. Out of a $476 tab, I paid a $76 consultation fee and the insurance picked up the rest. With any luck, lightning will strike twice and today's shot will be covered too.
So, prospective expat, I suggest doing the legwork to find a travel clinic that will bill the man for your essential immunizations. It's not easy, as most travel clinics will not bother with insurance billing and just force you to pay out of pocket, figuring that if you can afford to travel abroad, you can afford the Benjamins for the shots. Screw that. I pay enough in health insurance premiums every month.
In fact, I'm going to compile a master listing of all possible necessary vacunas, and make myself another appointment with the friendly Nurse at Glenbrook, before I take my leave of my corporate job and my beefy health insurance. Sure, I probably won't need to prevent against Ebola or Smallpox any time soon, but if the Nurse is sticking, and sticking it to Blue Cross, I'll be their pincushion. You just never know where in the world you might end up.
The nurse at the travel clinic at Glenbrook Hospital, Glenbrook Illinios, filled out my Yellow Card and told me when I would need to be vaccinated again for all of the above. I've got ten years on the tetanus and yellow fever, but only three on the typhus. I lucked out with Glenbrook, and found the only place in the Chicagoland area who billed my insurance company for the first round of jabs. Out of a $476 tab, I paid a $76 consultation fee and the insurance picked up the rest. With any luck, lightning will strike twice and today's shot will be covered too.
So, prospective expat, I suggest doing the legwork to find a travel clinic that will bill the man for your essential immunizations. It's not easy, as most travel clinics will not bother with insurance billing and just force you to pay out of pocket, figuring that if you can afford to travel abroad, you can afford the Benjamins for the shots. Screw that. I pay enough in health insurance premiums every month.
In fact, I'm going to compile a master listing of all possible necessary vacunas, and make myself another appointment with the friendly Nurse at Glenbrook, before I take my leave of my corporate job and my beefy health insurance. Sure, I probably won't need to prevent against Ebola or Smallpox any time soon, but if the Nurse is sticking, and sticking it to Blue Cross, I'll be their pincushion. You just never know where in the world you might end up.
Essential Communication
Instant Messenger is perhaps the greatest invention ever. I know that numerous significant relationships in my life have evolved, continued, reconnected, or even started via IM. I used to believe that IM was a little dangerous. In the early days of using it, I would offend or be offended much too easily. I think that this is because all of the cues that we seek in face-to-face human communication, the body language, gestures, expressions, and syntax, are all gone. Only the words on the screen remain between the people trying to make themselves be understood. It's gotten better since a type of IM-specific syntax has emerged (God bless Emoticons), and overall we've all grown a little more used to relating to our friends this way.
Tonight, IM allowed me a four-way conversation in three languages between participants in three different countries: AK and me in the US, Orlando in Venezuela, and Francisco in Peru. The lively brew of Espanglish was dizzying and exuberant, as were the asides in French between AK and me. The two guys, acquaintances from their school days, caught up in full Venezuelan slang, NONE of which they teach you in the rarified world of "Buenos dias. Me llama Jessica. Como estas?" like you learn in school.
And amongst these essentials of communication, Venezuelan-style, was my education in speaking "de la calle." People love to hear non-native speakers swear in the unfamiliar tongue, and so I learned words like "cono" (sorry, no tilde on this English keyboard) and "naguevonada". ("Shit" and "Holy Fuck" respectively. My apologies if anyone is offended.) Chino and AK hashed out the meanings in a hilarious bout of etymology, again in Espanglish, for our collective benefit.
But the best part about learning to swear like a Venezuelan, or to watch Fran and Chino talking like old school friends, was to see the exchanges between all of us, the way the cultures mingled and wrapped around one another like clothes agitating gently in a washing machine. To sit back and listen, to get thrown in, to observe tangents in Spanish or take off on them in English, to engage and acquire and interact. All of this is so thrilling to me. We can see each other on web cams and we can hear each other's voices(in a manner of speaking), all in real time from across thousands of miles and two very different cultural perspectives. Access to the language is my ultimate access to Venezuela, South American in general, and my acclimatization starts here, in Chicago, online.
Tonight, IM allowed me a four-way conversation in three languages between participants in three different countries: AK and me in the US, Orlando in Venezuela, and Francisco in Peru. The lively brew of Espanglish was dizzying and exuberant, as were the asides in French between AK and me. The two guys, acquaintances from their school days, caught up in full Venezuelan slang, NONE of which they teach you in the rarified world of "Buenos dias. Me llama Jessica. Como estas?" like you learn in school.
And amongst these essentials of communication, Venezuelan-style, was my education in speaking "de la calle." People love to hear non-native speakers swear in the unfamiliar tongue, and so I learned words like "cono" (sorry, no tilde on this English keyboard) and "naguevonada". ("Shit" and "Holy Fuck" respectively. My apologies if anyone is offended.) Chino and AK hashed out the meanings in a hilarious bout of etymology, again in Espanglish, for our collective benefit.
But the best part about learning to swear like a Venezuelan, or to watch Fran and Chino talking like old school friends, was to see the exchanges between all of us, the way the cultures mingled and wrapped around one another like clothes agitating gently in a washing machine. To sit back and listen, to get thrown in, to observe tangents in Spanish or take off on them in English, to engage and acquire and interact. All of this is so thrilling to me. We can see each other on web cams and we can hear each other's voices(in a manner of speaking), all in real time from across thousands of miles and two very different cultural perspectives. Access to the language is my ultimate access to Venezuela, South American in general, and my acclimatization starts here, in Chicago, online.
1.12.2005
So why am I doing this?
A list of reasons, excuses, and justifications, in no particular order:
I am 26 years old, not married, and do not have children.
Statistically, this is a singular, unique state that is not likely to persist for much longer.
I want to learn Spanish.
I want to live outside the United States.
I'm tired of cold winters.
"I do not want to die pale and lifeless" -- AK
Though I really lucked out by getting a large cubicle with a window, it's still a cubicle.
I recently got hooked on salsa dancing.
I have friends in Colombia, Peru, Bolivia, Chile, and Venezuela whom I can visit.
I still enjoy shocking my family.
I recently held my 57-year old aunt four days before died a miserable, painful, and undignified death.
I do not want to regret not having done this when I had the chance.
I am 26 years old, not married, and do not have children.
Statistically, this is a singular, unique state that is not likely to persist for much longer.
I want to learn Spanish.
I want to live outside the United States.
I'm tired of cold winters.
"I do not want to die pale and lifeless" -- AK
Though I really lucked out by getting a large cubicle with a window, it's still a cubicle.
I recently got hooked on salsa dancing.
I have friends in Colombia, Peru, Bolivia, Chile, and Venezuela whom I can visit.
I still enjoy shocking my family.
I recently held my 57-year old aunt four days before died a miserable, painful, and undignified death.
I do not want to regret not having done this when I had the chance.
I have completely lost my mind . . .
Or have I? I have decided that I am moving to South America this summer.
I'm leaving my fast-paced career track as an administrator at an online university, the rapid growth of which is rivaled only by mold spores and other such microorganisms. I'm leaving the security of a culture with which I am familiar, and the only language I speak fluently.
I know NOTHING about what I am about to do. Sure, plenty of friends of mine have done this, and I am sure they will be a major part of my support network in making this move. Special consideration goes to AK, who has lived in Venezuela and who will be making this move with me.
The intention of this blog is to help me to think out loud, to perhaps receive some feedback, and maybe even to help others who are similiarly inspired, and who like me have no idea where to begin.
I'm leaving my fast-paced career track as an administrator at an online university, the rapid growth of which is rivaled only by mold spores and other such microorganisms. I'm leaving the security of a culture with which I am familiar, and the only language I speak fluently.
I know NOTHING about what I am about to do. Sure, plenty of friends of mine have done this, and I am sure they will be a major part of my support network in making this move. Special consideration goes to AK, who has lived in Venezuela and who will be making this move with me.
The intention of this blog is to help me to think out loud, to perhaps receive some feedback, and maybe even to help others who are similiarly inspired, and who like me have no idea where to begin.
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