Twenty-Six

Posted on October 2, 2015 by Jett

Today I am officially closer to 30 than 20. Thirty-year-old guys aren’t too old. In fact, not only are they a good age for a possible significant other, they are basically my peers. I’m almost old enough to be my high school students’ mom and could feasibly be my junior high students’ mother. I’ve seen Internet in my backwoods, childhood stomping ground of Vermont transform from nonexistent, to dial-up with the nightmare beeping, to wifi so fast I can stream movies. I remember when landlines were the only way to invite my friends over for dinner.

I’ve lived in 3 countries and 5 cities. I’ve worked 8 different jobs and 6 internships. I graduated high school and college and then got a job using my degree. I then left that job for Peace Corps Paraguay. In Paraguay, I’ve taught leadership, identifying abilities, goal setting, sex education, and other things related to self-esteem to grades 8-12.

Birthdays are pensive times for me. Not because I’m scared about getting old. I’m more curious than fearful of what I will look like with gray hair, wrinkles, and a schedule filled with doctors appointments. I hope my health weathers the years and that there are not too many doctors appointments. Mostly, my birthdays are a time of reflection because they are logical milestones in life.

I am 26. My toddler self thought I’d be an Indian princess by now. My childhood self believed I’d be a famous dancer or musician. My high school self imagined I’d be a published writer, fluent speaker of many languages, and world traveler. My college self planned I’d be a ballin’ public relations expert, to great to fall, who was married and traveled to awesome places on vacation. My post-college self assumed I’d be a powerhouse for change and a person with a irresistible personality.

Now I know, and I would hesitate to say I am any of those things. At 26 I feel old. I also realize that old isn’t bad and is relative. I’m still a spring chicken compared to some and prehistoric in the eyes of others. Twenty-six is the beginning and end of a chapter, so starts my “post early twenties.”

I used to dream of who I would be. I set goals for my future self, someone who was better than my current self. But, today, I don’t dream of being someone different by next October or any future October. I expect that every October from here on out I will be Jett, nothing less and nothing more, and I am thrilled at such a prospect.

Don’t get me wrong, I have plans. I’m a dreamer and a plotter, and I am not scared of working hard to get to where I think I should be. But, honestly, so far I have never been where I thought I’d be. And, despite the disparity between what I thought and reality, life has been stellar. My 26-year-old wisdom tells me that in the end it’s not the grand title and spectacle of who I am come each October 2nd that is important. What matters is every moment between, all the small presents that come from living life to the max. And so, for year 27 my main mission is simply to seize every moment as an opportunity. I don’t want to worry about what I didn’t do when I remember; I want to smile because of what transpired.

Breaking the Mold

Posted on July 6, 2015 by Jett

Origin: Ponderings on a rainy day in Paraguay.

Subject: A limited attempt to justify my actions.

You know how when you put water in an ice tray, bag, or anything and then freeze it the water expands? If you’re not careful, the ice will break the container as it freezes or you end up with not-so-aesthetic ice cubes.

I feel like freezing water—the mold trying to keep me in shape will not hold up. I’m already overflowing, just imagine what’s going to happen when I solidify. Living and working abroad is the freezer, I’m the water molecule, and the molds are who I think I am and who I try to be. I often view myself as a homebody, but a homebody that tends to try to live more like a cosmopolite. Thinking about ice cubes made me realize, however, that I don’t fit nicely into the homebody or cosmopolite types.

Familiar. Routine. Known. Planned. Those are all things that I’ve always thought were important, and without which I’m usually harried, uncomfortable, and general miserable. But, at the same time, my fondest memories archive events that arose from spontaneity and going beyond my routine. And, I often do things to leave my routine behind: studying abroad for a time in high school, leaving Vermont to study in Washington, DC for college, and joining the Peace Corps. This juxtaposition in my personality—being comfortable only with the familiar but wanting and taking action to explore the unknown—started to make me wonder if I’m a masochist.

Don’t worry, after a thoroughgoing investigation I can say with certain confidence I am not a masochist. I just misjudged my character. I will explain.

When I left for a semester in Spain my junior year of high school people said it would change my life, and that I’d have amazing memories forever. When I left for college, people said to cherish my time studying because those years would be my best. When I left for the Peace Corps, people justified my leaving by reassuring me that the experience would be profound and the pinnacle in my life. I believed them, and now I think those thoughts were based at least partially on flawed assumptions.

All those times add up to more or less 6 years of my life. I am 25 and I want to live for a while yet. Were people telling me that my best years are now almost over? That might be the greatest tragedy that fate’s devised. I won’t accept that my life is a tragedy. What people meant to say, I think, was that studying abroad, college, and Peace Corps would be awesome because they would change up my routine and make life a fresh adventure.

“A fresh adventure”, that is the point of this rant. I like routine and familiar because they are easy. I periodically leave behind most everything that fits into the known not because I want to torture myself, but because comfort isn’t enough for me. I am on the trail of something else, and if I have to be uncomfortable sometimes to get there, it is a worthy sacrifice.

I do not think I could handle the life of a nomad; I’m just not that flexible. Nor do I think a fresh adventure is based entirely on changing location. However, I am reminded of the quote that pops into my mind more than any other as I go about my doings, “You have more power over your life than you think you do.”

In my heart I know I can not be happy just talking about the old times. Trying to accept the ordinary makes me restless. I am not a great adventurer or the bravest person, but I’m not scared to expand. I don’t want to just remember glory days, I want to be ever on the path of times worth retelling. That’s what I realized. Changing things up is scary, if it were easy everyone would do it. There’s always a chance for a real flop. But, since I can remember my favorite stories have always been those of people who took a leap. There is a beautiful, quaint simplicity to the stories of people who have spent all of their lives in the same place. But, there is something exciting and fantastic about those who can call more than one place home and who can say they’ve dabbled in many things. Molds are a way of setting a baseline. They’re a suggestion. As all expectations, molds are something to be surpassed.

Motivation

Posted on June 13, 2015 by Jett

“Che kaigue,” means “I don’t have the motivation or energy to do anything.” Che kaigue is almost always an acceptable excuse in Paraguay, and it is neither positive or negative. This phrase has been on my mind lately.

The general idea of kaigue bothers me. Not in the context of culture or Paraguayans, but in my own life. I recently hit a roadblock in my Paraguayan life and felt devoid of the desire to continue working. I fell into the dangerous trap of wondering if what I’m doing is actually worth the effort, and questioned what exactly I’m doing with my life.

Now pondering purpose and meaning of life is beyond the scope of kaigue, but none-the-less they are connected in my mind. And they are connected by the simple question: Where does motivation come from?

As a volunteer my main purpose is to prompt others to act. I inspire my counterparts to work with me. I incentivize my students to listen and learn what I want to teach them. I motivate my community members to include me in their already full lives. I energize my friends and family back home to (emotionally) support me even though I’m thousands of miles away. I do so much cheerleading for others, I sometimes forget to cheer for myself.

Where does motivation come from? If the answer to that question were simple, public health would be easy as pie and teaching my students smooth sailing. But, it’s not easy. Worse, it’s just as hard to think about one’s own motivation as it is to think about motivating others.

I’ve taken some time to think about the origin of my desire to do things and then my ability to follow through with those desires. There is a distinction between the things I want to do and the things I actually do. There is an endless list of things I want to do, and a finite number of things I achieve. Why is there such a big discrepancy? Hint: While time is a limiting factor, it’s of little importance in this discussion.

You might have guessed: Motivation. For me to be motivated to do something I must have a strong, tangible reason for doing it or it won’t happen. I also need to feel like I am successful—even if it’s only a hope for future achievement. I will not actually do things if I don’t have a clear reason for doing them or a hope for success.

Let’s look an example of how I applied this understanding of my own motivation to banish kaigue from my life (mostly).

Since March I’ve been teaching 10 sections of life skills to grades 8 through 12. Life skills to me means doing activities that help my students identify their strengths and weakness, communicate well, take an active role in their communities, take charge of their lives by feeling good about who they are, understand their health, and understand how to navigate life challenges like relationships. Our first topic was abilities: What do my students know how to do? How can they galvanize their strengths? How can they learn new skills? What can they do with their abilities? My second topic was leadership: What is a leader? What do leaders do? How do my students’ personalities relate to their leadership styles? What can my students do as leaders to improve their communities? Looking to the future, I will discuss sexual health, and specifically HIV and STI prevention.

I think those topics are pretty flipping awesome and darn important. Don’t you? Well, try telling that to a bunch of adolescents—ha. The point is this. I believe down to my toes that the skills my students could gain from my classes could help them make their lives happier someday. So, I have a good reason for doing the work. Check.

So, why didn’t I want to go to class anymore? Because I didn’t feel like my classes were achieving their objectives. It’s disheartening to go to class after class and have something like 20-30 people ignore me. I found myself wondering, daily and often, if my students acted out because my classes sucked or for some other reason. Regardless, my classes always go better when I start them with a positive attitude and lots of energy. That’s why my growing kaigue-ness was detrimental to my work.

My solution to motivating myself again was to do some self cheering. Self cheering began with identifying what I have done well. I have achieved something with some of my classes. Those groups that are finishing up the last class about leadership are doing better work than they once did. My students are learning to think for themselves; at least they’ve stopped asking if they should copy things. I very much dislike classes based entirely on copying other people’s ideas, which is the most popular class format in my school. My students are starting to find self reflection easier. I know this because they are doing it with less hesitation. In the classes where most or all the students give me the time of day we, my students and I, are winning. They don’t know it but they are reaching my goals for them.

I’m not winning in all of my classes. Part two of self cheering was realizing that it’s okay to give up sometimes. That’s a new conclusion of mine. I hate, yes hate, not completing projects I start. And I hate not starting something I say I’m going to do. But, life is complex. Part of my process of re-energizing has been allowing myself to say goodbye to the groups of students who don’t want to work with me. Rather than beat myself up by the clear failure of some classes I’ve come to accept that I can not motivate everyone I want to work with to work with me. Further I won’t make people work with me, so if I can’t motivate them we are at an impasse. Clearly, the classes where fewer than half the students listen or do the work have something demotivating them. I haven’t managed to figure out what that is, but I don’t have to let that negative energy devalue all of my work and affect the classes that are going well. I now teach 7 classes of life skills. I struggled to keep all 10 afloat, and I lost 3 times out of 10…or, better, I won 7 out of 10.

The example of my life skills classes is one of many motivation explorations that have robbed my sleep and filled my mind these kaigue weeks. I did the same exercise of flushing out my motivations and influences with my English tutoring, studying for the GRE, exercising, planning for my future, and other projects. Today, I accept that kaigue is a feeling I’ll have from time to time, but I refuse to let it be my state of being.

Lost But Not Forgotten

Posted on May 13, 2015 by Jett

“He was honored and not forgotten,” my father said of my grandfather’s funeral. My grandfather was a soldier for 20 years. He fought in WWII and Korea. He suffered for it. But, his comrades remembered him and in doing so they helped bring some peace to his family. Shiny pins and folded flags don’t pay for the dead, but ceremony does help those who are left behind.

It’s easy to forget. To close the door when the job is “done.” But, being able to talk to my father the week of his father’s funeral and hear the pride in his voice for how my grandfather was sent off—I’m glad that someone, many, took the time to remember. My grandfather lost a lot of himself in those 20 years. But, I will not criticize his motivation. His sacrifice was founded in a dedication to country and all people, a desire to do good. Further, I will not criticize the loyalty of his fellow veterans.

The thought of remembering struck me, as I sat alone in my little house thinking about my family so far away. I thought about why I left them. All the crazy phrases my grandfather used are on the tip of my tongue these days. They come to me as I’m going about my business. Sometimes, I try to expression them into Spanish, but they don’t have the same ring. “I’m taking hat, brother,” for example. Sombrero means “hat” in Spanish, in Paraguay it also can mean “lover on the side.”

In Paraguay, people pray for nine days when someone dies. Each day friends and family are invited to pray and eat snacks. On the last day, there are many snacks and there is extra praying. People remember their dead on specific anniversaries thereafter by holding similar praying sessions.

Introvert

Posted on May 6, 2015 by Jett

Typical girl birthday party table center pieces/guest gifts.

Why don’t you just ask?

Pause, frozen, unable to move:

They could look at me funny.

Maybe they won’t understand me.

Maybe they’ll be mean…they could lie.

What if they think I’m stupid?

I don’t want to inconvenience them.

I wouldn’t want to make them uncomfortable.

What should I say? How should I start?

Why don’t you just go and buy it?

Oh, it’s not the money. I’m good at saving.

So exhausting, the thought of shopping.

How many people will I have to talk to?

Are the prices on the items? What…I have to ask?

Is the salesperson going to follow me around?

Will I be able to try it on? Privately.

What are the dressing rooms like?

The store might be packed or it might be empty,

but I’m not sure which is worse.

How do I say I don’t want to buy it?

Is it weird that I need time to think?

Don’t be lame, parties are fun.

Yes, but where to begin.

Who should I talk to first?

How many people do I have to talk to?

Should I say “hi” to everyone?

And if I don’t know the people there…

Will they talk to me?

So, when someone ends the conversation,

Does that mean they were bored?

Or is that just the normal sequence of things…

At a party?

Fun, yes, but exhausting. Every word, enervating.

It’s all about who you know. Your network.

What does “know” mean exactly?

So, like, do I invite them out to coffee?

Schedules are complicated.

Do I just follow up with a note?

What should I say?

How often should I talk to them?

It’s so painful to think that

I might annoy them…

Or that they thought I was boring.

If they don’t remember me, does that mean I’m forgettable?

But I don’t want to know them JUST

So I can ask them for something…

No, I can’t do that.

So how can I get to know them…

As something more than an acquaintance?

They are so busy. They’ve made that clear.

Why didn’t you come?

Truth: I don’t know. I guess…

I was worried I wouldn’t have time to recover.

I wanted to see all of you, but didn’t know

What to say or if you wanted me there.

I was worried it was just a polite invite.

But, not a heartfelt one. I should be more confidant.

The travel. So many hours with people

I don’t know.

Then there’s all the smiling.

The catching up because

I didn’t know that was happening in your life.

What’s the problem exactly?

We’re in a sea of social bonds

Instead of hydrogen bonds

Extroverts are buoyant

Introverts are dissolved

It’s science. A hard truth. Reality.

Roots

Posted on May 1, 2015 by Jett

Villa Florida, Misiones, Paraguay

The day I felt most successful in Paraguay was the day I fixed my sink, fixed my toilet, taught 5 hours, and then tutored someone in English. But, it wasn’t the teaching or tutoring that made me feel like a champion. There is something incomparably gratifying about fixing things all on my own.

A simple joy derived from working with my hands on tangible things stems from my roots. My father is a carpenter, furniture maker, set builder, scenic designer, and general jack-of-all-trades when it comes to buildings things (petty much any medium). My mother is an artist (painter and sculptor) whose dabbles (and dives) into costume design, house building, furniture making, and set design. My stepfather is a furniture maker who also builds houses, fixes just about anything, goes logging with his horse, and changes his truck’s oil on his own. My stepmother, she’ll try to tell you she’s not crafty, but she knits, draws, and knows more about remodelling than she lets on.

A lot of what I do in the Peace Corps is intangible. I teach life skills. I teach English. I talk about health theoretically and US culture. I try to set an example for all the young women who cross my path. But, aside from the occasional breakthrough—like when one of my youth answers a question with an answer so profound it makes me pause or one of my students strings together a good sentence or two in English—I don’t see results.

On the flip side, when I fixed my sink and toilet I instantly saw my success. One minute my sink was clogged—so obviously I took it apart and in doing so discovered a critical screw was stripped (from years of abuse) and I couldn’t put it back together—hours later it was functioning better than it had before I tampered with it. As for my toilet, the connection between the pipe that brings clean water into the toilet every time I flush and the toilet itself was demolished. Every time I flushed there was a jet of water. The water was only clean, which was nice. A trip to the hardware stone, lots of explaining and acting out what I needed, and I came home with all I needed to fix everything. Whoop! Done. Master carpenter right here, in the middle of Paraguay! Take that Mr. Machismo.

I can get all fancy with my talk of and work in social marketing, behavior change, and capacity building, but it will always come back to the same thing. The day I changed the lock on my door with just a knife I was ecstatic. The day I fixed my sink and toilet, I could have taken on anything. I can fly as far away as I want, but I won’t forget my roots. Not for nothing.

25 for 25

Posted on October 27, 2014 by Jett

As I mentioned, I had a birthday recently. I turned 25, which seems old because I work so much with youth between the ages of 11 and 18.

I never made New Year’s goals for 2014, but here are my goals for my 25^th year. They are in no particular order.

Ask for it.
Initiate: Don’t expect someone else to do it.
Look for opportunities to be helpful.
Focus on living in the moment. Note the positive things.
Take time to be thankful.
Get my novel ready for review.
Rock the GRE.
Be diligent about journaling.
Read more.
Focus on health: Eat less sugar. Control portions.
Exercise everyday.
Publish consistently on Connecting the Dots.
Learn Guaraní.
Become fluent in castellano.
Stay in touch with my US network.
Reach out to friends in Paraguay; don’t always go it alone.
Hone patience.
Smile more.
Learn biology, chemistry, and math.
Make listening to podcasts part of my routine.
Solidify a positive self-image.
Listen to understand, not to respond.
Share more.
Let the little things go.
Ask more questions.

Birthday Shout Out

Posted on October 17, 2014 by Jett

I had a birthday recently. Some people have life-crises at New Year’s when they think about what they’ve accomplished, what they haven’t done, what they want to change…well, I have birthday crises. I couldn’t care less about January 1, but when my October birthday comes around I have “so many feelings.”

I wasn’t sure how my birthday contemplativeness was going to manifest itself in Paraguay. The answer: I felt completely loved and supported and empowered.

I got supportive, funny, and loving messages via email, Facebook, and Twitter from family and friends back home. My sister created a digital birthday card that she emailed, tweeted, and made her Facebook cover photo. My family sent me care packages with copious amounts of chocolate and green tea (and other wonderful things that have made my life markedly better)—I did NOT use restraint during my consumption of said chocolate.

Other volunteers and Paraguayan friends sent me thoughtful birthday messages. Two of my closest friends is site ambushed me with an unexpected birthday present the day after my birthday—I’m still smiling.

The women at my health post hosted a birthday lunch. I made chocolate cake with dulce de leche as frosting. They made two kinds, yes two, of salad and a savory pie made of leafy greens, onions, and eggs. We also had sausage and Coke Cola—staples in Paraguay.

The Saturday after my birthday, I had my morning English class sing happy birthday to me—English practice, right? I didn’t tell the students I worked with on the day of my birthday that it was my birthday, but got happy birthday wishes for almost a week afterward when they did find out.

It was the birthday I always dreamed of—tranquilopa.

Don’t Suffer, Fix It

Posted on October 8, 2014 by Jett

You don’t need to come all the way to Paraguay to find little inconveniences in life. Maybe the sink drips. Maybe the door squeaks. Maybe the table rocks. Whatever it is, it works but it could be better. It wouldn’t be hard to mend but instead you let yourself deal with these little things for months, for years… What exactly keeps you from fixing them? What keeps you from making them better or eliminating them all together? Why would you deal with small annoyances rather than resolve them?

You don’t know how to fix them?

You’re lazy?

You’re too shy to ask for help?

You tell yourself that it’s only going to be for a little while?

I’ve come to ask myself these questions. I’m not lazy and I know how do fix most basic things in my house. But, still I don’t. Paraguay adds a level of complexity because I don’t always know where to get the materials I need to fix something, but that’s not an excuse.

I had an epiphany recently—why let myself suffer if I can fix the problem? Thinking about my current situation, I’m going to live in my house two years. That’s not a petty amount of time.

I find the scenario of inaction interesting. I can come all the way to Paraguay to try to help people improve their lives. But, somehow, I overlook the necessities in my own home—I should be able to fix my wardrobe knob, refresh the concrete in my bathroom, and build/get enough shelving.

My new motto: “Don’t suffer, fix it.”

Check back in a couple months to see if I’m living my motto or just blowing smoke.

Revelations 1000s of Miles From Home

Posted on September 19, 2014 by Jett

I’m still shedding illusions I had when I was a child. I don’t know if it’s something I’ll grow out of or if I’ll always have realizations about things that went over my head when I was growing up. But, either way, there’s something enlightening about uncovering a greater truth beneath things I thought I understood. And, it’s downright fun to bring things into my consciousness that were once lost somewhere in the recesses of my senses.

My most recent realization about my childhood: James Bond, yep 007, was a huge part of my upbringing. I never knew that until I had the opportunity to watch every James Bond movie, starting with the one from 1962—don’t ask how I fit all those movies into my schedule. I should say this is particularly surprising because movies were a small part of my youth and my parents’ still don’t have TV.

I knew my mother had the soundtracks to the James Bond movies, I think through the 80s or 90s. But, little did I know how often those songs were played. As I watched the 007 movies in my Paraguayan home, some for first time and others for a second or a third time, snapshots of my childhood came back. Mom cooking. Mom painting. Mom cleaning. Images of the kitchens of the various places we’ve lived. A mental picture of the patterned rug that seemed to always be there faded into my mind as I watched one movie introduction.

I never know when a revelation like this is going to pop up. One of my all-time favorites is, in college, when I finally realized why my father had once told me his favorite thing to do was sleep. When he told me that I was still in early grade school. I thought he was crazy—during that time in my life I could not be outside or run around enough. But, it only took one semester with a full class schedule, extracurricular activities, and two or three jobs for me to understand why sleeping is one of the greatest things in life.

Paraguayans often ask me if I miss home. They often wonder why I’m so far away from my family. I try to explain that I’m used to it because I left my parents’ houses when I was 18. I think some Paraguayans understand and others don’t. What I don’t have the language skills to explain is that I don’t actively miss my family. Not because I don’t love them, but because they are always with me. I was raised to do my own thing, but I still hear my sister telling me I’m going to get skin cancer when I leave the house without sunblock. I still hear my stepmother’s advice on how to know if I actually love someone when a good-looking guy crosses my path. When I’m not sure if I should go for it, an image of my stepfather talking to complete strangers and getting their life stories helps me take the leap.