The queen of last minute packing is packed and ready to leave. On a jet plane. Like now. It is five and a half days until my departure to meet up with the fam and I am ready to go. I am in no way like “GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” (okay I am a little like that… maybe not in caps lock). I was doing nothing yesterday and simply started packing, subconsciously almost. As much as I am finding the simple beauty in each day and practicing this religiously, some of my own actions are surprising me. This packing action for example: Apparently I can’t wait to leave, and when I really think of it, ya, I really can’t wait to get out of here. I have never packed for anywhere this early in my life. Even moving here I was dragging out suitcases at 8 pm the night before departure.
I am currently in the middle of applying for grad schools and it is filling my ridiculous amount of spare time nicely. I am curious what will take its place upon returning from break, but I am not worrying about that right now. Another thought process pushed to the back of brain central.
More about this weekend. Friday night was the Christmas concert at the school which was another adorable performance. Saturday, as we discussed, I spent my time walking around internetless (#africaproblems) reading, drawing, and packing. The last two weekends we have been without internet and it is quite frustrating because a) it is my number one portal to anywhere but where I am and b) I can’t communicate with people (especially my mom). On the other hand, it has allowed me to be more in tune with myself and face my ignorance of …well everything. Until a few weeks ago, I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror for more than 30 seconds without crying. I couldn’t face myself.
Saturday night we had our staff Christmas party. It was so nice to see the local staff out of uniforms and in real clothes. I didn’t even recognize half of them. I really drank for the first time in who knows when. I also ate all the main food groups for vegetarians at major events: rice, bread, potatoes, and beer. Of course, there was dancing after dinner. I finally found my dance people. Alfred (a custodian) asked me if I came from Africa before Canada. I’m not entirely sure what he meant by that, but he did also continuously say, “you are very good dancer!” every 30 seconds (literally) so I’ll take it as a compliment. Following the Christmas party, we went out to a “club”. The only reason I agreed upon this was because of a couple who was also going, saving me from being stuck out until 5am. The club was hilarious. It was just like a club I would imagine in Vegas. We didn’t stay long because it was extremely loud and no one was on the dance floor. Apparently no one dances until 2am. Usually I rate my drunkness the next day according to what I remember doing the night before. Prime example: instead of leaving with my ride, I ran out to the empty dance floor in the middle of the club and performed from what I can only describe as the “chicken bob”. Needless to say my ‘very cool’ dance moves got everyone else out on the dance floor so really, chicken bob was successful. Remember that (Kendra).
I had a lot of fun last night. The crew at ASOY is a good one. It’s hard to find that and I am glad I get to be apart of it here. Hopefully it won’t change much next semester. The friends I have made here are keeping me afloat, as much as staying afloat here is possible. Although this all may be true, I still encounter subtle reminders of leaving: bags under my eyes, sore joints, stomach problems, dreams of vegetables, stir craziness, nightmares. The queen of last minute packing is ready to get the hell out of here. Friday can’t come any faster.