To live at the bottom of the world....

Do I want to live at the bottom of the world for 3 months??????

I've been seriously pondering this question for the last few days. To clarify, by the "bottom of the world" I mean Punta Arenas, Chile. It is in Patagonia, in the very south of South America, and it is one of the southernmost towns in the world that people inhabit. I applied for and was accepted for a journalism internship with Nomadas Outdoor Services, a company that covers the annual Patagonian Expedition Race- better known as "The Race at the Bottom of the World". Marta's question posed to me was, "So, when you think you could come?" .......

So, how cool would it be to live surrounded by unrivaled beauty, where nomads and adventure-seekers alike flock to experience just how small they are in the grandeur of the eiptome of creation? I bet it would be rockin'.

I had been planning on going to Italy to job search at the end of February. Yet, the Patagonian Expedition Race is in February, and it would be best if I could go as soon as possible before all the craziness of the race time. The internship is at least 3 months, and I can decide if I would want to stay longer. It is unpaid, and they provide housing and all meals. I would just have to buy the plane ticket down there, which IS a pretty penny.

Sooooo, as of right now, I'm not sure what I will do. I'm just blown away by the reality of actually being offered this position, and trying to discern if it's definitely what I want to do right now. Also, I'm thinking of if I have the money to do this. Hmmm......

Potential

I'm thinking of joining the Peace Corps.

I want to make a difference in peoples' lives. I want to help them, to feed them, to give the poor a little bit of another culture and lifestyle that they couldn't get without assistance. I feel like I could do so much, that so many people can do so much, but that they don't do much at all. Unfortunately, most of the people I know here at home have lives revolving solely around a job, drugs, and alcohol. What is that going to do for themselves or anyone in the long run? Niente.

So, I don't know if I will actually do the Peace Corps as my medium of volunteering abroad. I hate to say this, but it seems so cliche. I know it isn't, and that it's probably just that complex I have about being "different" from the norm, but I'm just not sure I would want to go through that organization.

Maybe a Catholic Relief Services job is on the horizon for me.
But, first of all, I plan on returning to Italy and working there for a little. Then I would do some volunteer work.

I'm just keeping myself open to anything. I really want to make a difference and to live life to its fullest. It would be nice if all people realized their potential.....

The first real job offer. I made it go 'kaput'.

So. I turned down my first real job offer today. It was such a whirlwind. I met the lady who my mom is friends with on Sunday, when she had given me her card, by Monday we had set an interview up for Wednesday at 9 AM, and by 2:30 PM on Wednesday the job was offered to me. Now, mind you, this was my first "real job" interview- not one sitting in a restaurant or walking around a stable meeting people and horses. The lady made me an offer with a nice salary, and..........................



I didn't take it. I refused. I told her that I wouldn't want to take a job that someone else would be better suited for, and that I did appreciate how nice it was of her to schedule me in and give me this opportunity. And that was that.

I could have been a technical editor and word processor in merely a few weeks. But I chose against it, the reasons for myself being that I would be utterly bored with a job like that, find no excitement in the office, location, nor position, and would be burnt out and mad at myself for another false start in about a week. I'm glad I didn't take it. But what the f***? Why did it have to be this way? Here I remain, serving at the Olive Garden.

A character in the wrong cafe

Today I saw a woman who I want to be a character in one of my future books. She was incredible.

The immediate distraction from my magazine in the Barnes & Noble Cafe was her hat. It was not a normal hat that you would see a person wearing, nor an abnormal one that was unfitting. It was simply perfect- for her. This hat was roughly 17 inches in diameter and looked like a porcupine was sent to the chopping block so it could be used in its next life as a hat. This tan fur-like, spiky fuzz protruded as a 4-inch wide band around the circumference of the hat, which was black on the crown of her head.

The minx fur coat fell straight from the middle of the back of her neck to her skinny ankles. It was coat in an array of brown shades of the fur. I can only imagine what it feels like to wear a coat like that; I do believe she liked how it felt like someone was constantly close to you and hugging you, due to its weight and thickness.

Her black shoes of a 4-inch block heel had her tiny feet tucked neatly into their thick strap that wound itself around her foot. Striking away from the black-brown theme, her toenails were the color of pinky salmon mixed into the orange guts of a pumpkin. It was marvelous. If nails could ever say anything, her nails did. The chic of her outerwear, minus the heels reminiscent of the 90's, created a dichotomy in her nature simply from the color of her toenails. From there, I had to check her fingers, just to see. I wasn't disappointed. The same sunset-orange-gone-wrong color poked out in dots from the folds of her heavy minx coat as she poured sugar into her Starbucks take-out cup.

As she picked her way across the cafe in a stilt-like, careful manner, she shimmied past a man bent over at the magazine rack as she carried her hot drink and magazine over to a round table by the picture window. I expected her to meet a man. I was disappointed when she didn't. After she sat down, I nonchalantly morphed my flabbergasted gaze into a curious inspection of my Writer's Digest magazine as she looked around for a moment. I felt bad for meticulously observing her as if she were in a fish tank.

I did have to look up again in the next few seconds, and my eyes widened as my head tilted a bit. She was reading some fashion and gossip magazine, and made the motions as if she were becoming very hot. She then proceeded to open her hugging coat and push it towards the back of her shoulders instead of just taking it off. She had on a dazzly, strapless dress of some sort! I couldn't believe it. God love her, this lady had to be in her late 60's, and she had these tiny collarbones and shoulder sockets that her tired skin stretched over. She continued browsing her juicy magazine with teal-eyelined eyes. At times she would purse her delicately-lipsticked and lined lips in a dramatic reading of an especially interesting piece of news.

This lady would have been perfect sipping a glass of Bordeaux wine at 6 am outside a sleepy cafe on a strip club and motel-lined street in Paris. She was unbelieveably out of place at 5:00 on a Monday night at Barnes & Noble cafe in Reading, Pennsylvania. Yet, she made my night. What a strange lady. How perfect for a writer.

giving in- but only minutely, not at all completely

Okay.

What a simply understated, unassuming, and yet powerful word.

..........

It happens to be one that I don't often like to say.

Okay. I'm here. I am accepting the fact that I'm living at home right now, although it's not at all what I thought that I would be doing in my first post-college year. Mamma mia.

So, I again say, "okay." I give in, but only to the point of creating a blog that's not about my exotic travels, enlightening experiences, and foreign affairs. It's about my life at home, which, in my mind, is not an adventure by any stretch of the imagination. So, why would I want to create a blog while I'm not off traipsing around the world? Simply because this is where I am. Basta.

So, I chose this template for my blog because it kind of reminds me of my room- the location of which I am beginning this blog. It's been upgraded nicely since I've moved back home; an antiqued-bronze colored, beautiful double bed with spirals, posts, and decorative ornamentation on it that are reminiscent of grape vines is my favorite addition. I found some fantastic old suitcases- one that is almost ancient from an antique shop, and one made in Brazil of coconut husks with all these stamped postmarked stickers from around the world on it. They sit at the foot of my grand bed. I put up a tapestry as my closet door, and created photo strips that hang from my walls like film reels. Sometimes looking at those frozen memories makes me laugh aloud. Other times, it beckons tears to fall. I love the fact that, while I am addicted to black and white photography, the pictures are in color. I have a brilliant, vivid life of memories so far.

So my plan today, on day off #1 of 2 days, was to hit up Park City Mall to do some Christmas Shopping and exchange this sweater I bought for another (it had a hole in it the first time I put it on) and to go to the gym. I wanted to get some writing in with that, since I am dabbling in various ideas I have going on in the creative part of my mind. Well, needless to say, I did none of these things, short of starting this blog. I became creative for something else. pshhh.

I realize that I still need to be reading and writing, and not giving up on the things I love just because I feel that I am not fully doing what I love- be it training horses or teaching kids to ride, or living abroad, or travel writing. Life is still there for me, it's just that it consists of serving at the Olive Garden and living at home right now. I know God will show me the treasures in this one day. But, I think the person who buys a hundred oysters in attempt to find a pearl is less likely to find one than the person who orders a plate oysters at a restaurant. (true story- the restaurant one). I'll see the beauty in this one day, but I'm not going to try too hard to see it now. I am determined to find adventure as it comes to me. Right now that means partying with the people from work, most of which are unfortunately addicted to illegal substances and liquid beverages every night of the week. C'est la vie.