Over the past few years I’ve made some dramatic choices in my life. I guess the most dramatic was joining the Peace Corps and venturing half way around the world for 2 1/2 years. Those times were tough but rewarding, and I don’t regret them at all. However, after I was finished with the Peace Corps I could have either gone right to law school or taken some time off. I decided to do the latter, and although I had originally wanted to do a cross-country road trip, I ended up taking a VISTA position in Maine. Thinking about that decision now, with just a few months left, I think I made a mistake.

I had hoped that Maine would be a rustic welcoming place, but instead I found it cold and suspicious. I imagine that part of the difficulty I experienced here was the fact that I was transitioning; we are warned by the Peace Corps that re-adjustment is a difficult process. But I can’t help but feel that I’ve wasted precious time here, and frankly that feeling just sucks. I have come to realize that I need to be in an environment that is more conducive to socialization. I’m not a giant party animal but I like to have things to do and a good group of friends to do them with (who doesn’t?) Unfortunately, as an outsider, I’ve had a really hard time establishing that here.

This lack has led me to question myself and since I tend to be my harshest critic, it’s kinda a depressing cycle. I have had my moments of expanding beyond my comfort zone, but things just haven’t clicked on a satisfactory level. Though there have been some great moments and people, these have been fragmented and too far in between. I yearn to belong somewhere and no longer be transient, but I haven’t found that place yet, and so continue to search, always looking out for what may lie just around the corner.

So when I was in high school I had just a few close friends. As it is, people drift away, taking their own paths in life. About two weeks ago I got a notice from one of my dear high school friends that he was engaged to be married - no further details. I wrote him back, and then this week got a response via email. In it he told me about how he would be getting married on Saturday and that the affair would be a, “Small-ish get-together, about 100 people of family, friends, coworkers.” Umm, okay. So, you are getting married this Saturday and write me about it on Tuesday? Am I wrong to be really offended/hurt here? I understand that we have not been in routine communication, but I feel like I’m being told that there is this great affair happening to which I am not important enough to be invited.

I’ve been trying pretty hard lately but have left feeling only bewildered. I am putting myself out there but don’t understand what I’m hearing in response. Sometimes I feel like my mouth and ears are disconnected from my brain leaving me only with my thoughts.

I think I’m somewhat guilty of this:

The Most-Praised Generation Goes to Work

But honestly, throw out the red pens and stock up on confetti?

Yikes.

My father once accidentally broke a key off our family computer’s keyboard. This happened around December. The following April, while trimming the lawn, I found the scattered remains of a keyboard all across the backyard. There was also an old Toshiba laptop, which, having reached the end of its much abused life, found a similar fate awaiting itself. So it is in the family. Something breaks, it’s gone. Although I myself have had a few victories, notably with computers, my skill for fixing things these days seems to rank just a hair above my fathers.

So I got this washing machine for free. It belonged to a teacher who no longer needed it, and kindly, she let me have it. It was never a glorious machine, indeed it was quite old. But, being of German make, it still worked well enough, if loudly. Last week during the usual tumbling, I heard a new noise. It was going “tumble, scratch, splash,” normal, when followed, “bang, twaaang.” When a washing machine goes, “bang, twaang,” it’s not good. But the cycle managed to finish. Today I dump a fresh load in, and after filling up, again, “bang, twaang,” only this time following the frightening racket, the drum stops spinning and instead I can hear that sound of a motor trying to move but making no process - you know, that strained buzzing.

Perhaps I overloaded the machine and nothing is really wrong, I think. So, removing half the load I fire it back up only to get one cycle followed by that buzzing. I take all the clothes out and start it up, but no progress is to be had. At this point I become convinced that something has gotten stuck somewhere in the works… a stray sock perhaps. Not having much to do and feeling adventurous, I decide that I’ll fix it.

Three hours later:

Tomorrow I’ll be going shopping for a second-hand washing machine. I think I’ll stick to teaching…