How apropos...

For those who don't know me, this is Anthony's friend Sarah (previously) from Bloomington. I post under the name Sachi because it's my family's longtime nickname for me. I adore it, and there are too many Sarahs out there besides. Sorry for the (months) delay in posting-- hope this stuff was worth waiting for.

How apropos... that this blog is called What the Hell Do I Know?, and (though I realize it's a rhetorical question), as I sit to write my inaugural post, I'm grappling with more uncertainties, mysteries, and unknowns than I ever EVER have before in life. What the hell do I know? Not a freaking lot, at the moment.

I've just moved to Boston (yesterday!), and let me tell you, folks, uprooting one's life like this is not for pussies (can I use that word on the blog? I suspect Anthony will freak, but don't let him fool you-- a couple drinks in that man and it's all he can talk about. HaHaHa- Hi to Mom and Aunt Mb. LMAO ...he's gonna kill me.) No, seriously, for all my weaknesses, I am not someone you'd call meek or faint of heart, and this is unequivocably kicking my butt. I'm exhausted, and it's only been ONE day.

Navigating my new life is something like being in a foreign country where no one speaks English... I constantly feel lost. I pick up a lot, but still 90% of it is a total mystery. Even at the end of the day, I go home to strangers.
Not. one. single. thing. in. my. life. is. familiar.

What the hell do I know?
I do know that I'm stubborn as hell and I won't quit till I conquer this. I know, though I feel mostly queasy, my every instinct still tells me that BC is exactly where I'm supposed to be. I know that I have a killer sense of direction and someday I'll figure out these godforsaken streets. I know that ALL the people I have met so far have been simply *lovely* and I can't wait to know them better... But I also know I'm counting the days until October when I can visit home.
I can't wait, guys.

How much is too much?

After a long first week at the border, I have much to share- including funny stories about Darcy and Tonto dolls; a trying tale concerning Kirstin and my now-broken second toe; and a list of my co-workers quirks… mercifully, though, I will spare you the minutia and focus instead on a question that keeps reemerging for me: How much suffering could I survive?

Two-three days a week, I work* in a clinic in Anapra, Mexico (a small colonia of Juarez) that provides physical therapy, massage, and support to children and young adults with special needs. Our clients suffer from varying maladies, including CP, spinal bifida, autism, etc. Their incredible suffering is compounded by severe socioeconomic barriers and a culture that shuns persons with disabilities and the parents who raise them. I am overwhelmed by the challenges that these families face with so little capital and support. In their places, I don’t know how I would cope.

The hardest cases for me, though, might be the two twenty-something gunshot victims the clinic treats. Both were vital young men before gang violence left them a paraplegic and quadriplegic, respectively. In the U.S., this fate would be damning; in Anapra, it is nearly insurmountable. Imagine: obviously, these guys have no medical insurance. The only “treatment” they get is at our clinic, where “treatment” means a bath once a week, catheter change, massage, and basic leg and arm exercises. Save our clinic and a few lucky residents’ homes, there is no running water or electricity in the entire colonia—which means no showers to clean one’s bed sores or television to watch during unending hours of boredom. Worse still, they can’t go anywhere. Nothing is handicap accessible in a squatter community, and even if it were, they could never get there. Anapra lacks pavement—it is a town on a sand dune. Thus, any “road” is a hole-pocked sand track which years of crazy Mexican driving has beat down into something resembling a path. A wheelchair can’t cut it in this community. Finally, the economy is desperate at best. There are no jobs for persons with limited mobility—there is barely enough work for healthy, vibrant middle-aged men and women.

I have always thought of myself as someone who would make the best of whatever situation in which she found herself; however, spending only a week with our clients, I have begun to understand how pathetic and weak I am. I doubt I could make it. I couldn’t look at the 50+ years of life ahead of me and see myself as perpetually confined to a room in a shack, waiting for someone to come to powder my bed sores and periodically rotate me onto my side. I admire all of the families with whom we work simply because they get up day after day in a world that is desperate, take a deep breath, and try. I am not scrappy enough to be anything but a privileged little first-worlder. Yuck and double yuck.

Otherwise, life is good and I am enjoying myself (talk about non sequiturs, but I couldn’t leave this post on that sad little note). I live with very lovely people and have enjoyed catching up with old friends. And, of course, the job search is in full-swing (which I am going to get back to just as soon as I post this mini-tome). Que bueno.


*NB: by “work”, please understand that I mean the most trivial, basic tasks a person can perform—errand running, bath filling, floor cleaning, etc. As egomaniacal as some people find me (follow my eyes east to the Fields in Bloomington, IN), I don’t have delusions that I am doing anything of significance besides learning while I am here. Though, of course, I am still going to be sainted for quietly enduring 30+ killer mosquito bites while talking on the phone with Anthony last week. I probably contracted West Nile, which is going around our county. I am such a good friend. You’re all lucky to know me, really. ;)

Karlee and Zach Wedding.

Last night, Karlee and Zach, two friends from Bloomington, got married. Karlee and Zach are the MPRI Softball's starting 3rd and 1st basemen, respectively. It was my second Protestant wedding... woo hoo! I was really impressed by the vows. I wish I could remember the wording. I do remember when the minister was reading the vows I said to myself, "Wow, I'm really impressed with these vows." But alas, I can't remember the phrasing. The minister also said something I thought was insightful. He said, "I want you to fight. But fight with the right weapons." That's even true with friends. (The minister is refering to love, as the right weapon, not like numchucks or something).

The reception was fun. I definitely sat at the "drinking" table. When you looked across the reception, our table was easily distinguishable by the mostly empty beer cups. The first song the whole crowd danced to was a favorite of mine. Def Leppard "Pour Some Sugar On Me". I never realized it but I definitely know all the words. Other songs that I enjoyed at the wedding:
-B-52s "Love Shack" (Courtney was rockin' out pretty hardcore to that song... uh oh)
-AC/DC "You Shook Me All Night Long" (there's definitely a picture of Amy, Courtney, Jimmy and I head-banging to this song. I was doing that pinky-forefinger sign. It was late into the night. The picture is great. If I ever get a copy, I'll post it or burn it... one of the two)
-a rap song that talks about bitches and ass and drinking and other stuff (does that narrow it down?)
-that Usher song where you say "Yea Yea Yea Yea Yea Yeaaaaaaaaaa"

I think everyone had a good time. And to Karlee and Zach, the party was good times. You both are great people and I couldn't be happier. Congratulations!

Oh yea, they probably won't read this for 8 days because they are on their way to Tahiti. Yea. Tahiti. Whatever, I'd rather be in Bloomington. I'd say, "Please take me with you," but how weird would it be for me to ask to go on someone else's honeymoon with them. The thought cracks me up.

Lovely

Hi, everyone!

Finally, because my intensive Lithuanian class is over (more on that later), I am at last able to post to this snazzy blog! And thank goodness, because apparently Anthony and Mike are about five minutes from excommunicating Sarah and me for our silence! Sadly, though, they will not be a fan of this post, because it is going to be a triffle schmultzy.

I am moving on Friday. It is completely unreal to me, as I have lived in Bloomington, IN (save summers) since the Fall of 1999. Now, 1.75 degrees later, I am venturing out-- into the very unknown. For the next two months, I will be working as a full-time volunteer with the Sisters of Charity in El Paso, TX. Three days of week I will work in their medical clinic in New Mexico (writing grants, etc.) and then two days a week I will work in their clinic for disabled children in Juarez, Mexico (I think my job there will entail lots of driving about the crazy, sandy streets of Juarez picking up families and transporting them to and from the clinic). One of my good friends is already of a full-time volunteer with the SoC there, so I am very much looking forward to q-t with her and my other friends in the area (several years ago, I did an internship in El Paso).

While in "The Pass", I have a second priority: finding "for real" full time work. As I am so sick of school my eyes are starting to swim, I have decided to finish my degree in concert with full-time employment. I have a job offer with a gov't agency (pending the sucessful completion of my background check), but that "pending" is stretching into impurtitude. Consequently, I *need* to find a job (yikes!). So, my evening and weekends for the next two months will entail lots of cover letter writing and resume sending. And, after two months at the Border... well, who knows, I guess? I am a Daughter of Fortune these days-- I am hopeful that my luck will continue and something pleasant will pan out. Fingers crossed.

Okay, enough about me; please allow me to share with you about what is truly amazing: the lovely people in my life. Namely, Anthony and Laura. This past weekend, Anthony and Laura (1/2 of the "churchies" friend group-- which I am delighted to announce that I did not name!) threw the most beautiful going away party for Sarah and me (Sarah is heading to Boston College for a joint masters-- I will refrain from saying more, so that she may share the exciting details with you). I wish I could capture the enchantment of the evening in words, but it is impossible to create a complete picture of all of the warm goodness of the night. Perfect weather, grill fare, pine sprigs duct taped to oak trees, two priests and a couple of campus ministers, alcohol, dancing, Dolly Parton (not live, unfortunately-- that would have been really incredible!), the Coors lite chug, "Bye, Friends" the Cake, besties spirited from Chicago, O.P.P, copious amounts of alcohol, dancing citrinela candles (not those dastardly eye-sore tiki torches found at less enjoyable affairs), more and more alcohol, the Pennsylvannia Polka, and friends, friends, beautiful beautiful friends.

My life is lovely. I spent the night ensorcled by all the incredible that surrounds me here. "...all I could think was wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful and yet again, wonderful" (Harris, L.A. Story). Leaving such awe-inspiring perfect seems unreal, because everything lovely in my life is so deep and rich.

Really, I am a little mad at Anthony and Laura. Why are they making leaving that much harder?!! Why must they be so nice and thoughtful and caring and wonderful? Those bastards!

Honestly, though, Anthony and Laura are once-in-a-lifetime friends. So much beauty crammed into two lil' people. The "churchies" have been the single most important blessing of my last two years in Bloomington. Absolutely sincerely, friends, thank you for loving me so well. I love you very much.

I better stop. If I thought that my blogship was precarious before this post, it is absolutely in question once Anthony (and probably Mike, too) reads this rambling, Kumbaya treasties of love and friendship. For those of you just meeting me with this post, trust me: I am usually not this kind. Especially about others. Though I do share nice things about myself once in awhile! ;) I am hopeful the comment section will be filled with testaments to my salitness. Future posts will likely be less pleasant, thank God. So don't discount me yet! ;)

I will post a picture from the festivies once Anthony shows me how. I am not quite twenty-first century yet (though I do own my first cell phone! Crazy!).

Another weekend. Another move.

This morning, a crew (Bertie, Sarah, Jeremy, me, Laura) moved Laura's stuff from her sublet apartment to her house. And the house is quite charming. It has those nooks, hallways and little spaces so characteristic of an older house. It adds character. It reminded me of my house (i.e. my parent's house) in Cleveland.

But really, today, I was admiring what a good friend I am. Really. I impress me. I am really good at packing a van. I can maximize that space like no one else I've ever seen. Also, Mascia & Burns Moving Inc. (privately held company, co-founders Bertie and I, est. 2006) is incredibly efficient. We accomplished the move in less than two hours. Unheard of! I'm such a good person. HAHA!

I should also note this is the second moving company of which I am a part. Noodle Arms & Glory Days Moving Company Inc. (privately held company, co-founders Mike and I, est. 2004) was my first moving company. That company helped Mike move his stuff out of 1951 Selby Ave. (in LA) to his new pad in LA.

Finally, Sarah mentioned to me, "One of these days, you're gonna overstay your welcome on this planet." Today, Sarah, Bertie, Jeremy and I decided I might have already overstayed my welcome. I'm the house guest who doesn't know when to leave.