Gaming & Raining

I've gotten Kim hooked on Jedi Knight 2.

It is a video game based on Star Wars (in case you are a girl or use a Macintosh and so don't know what this is). It is her second video game experience after Grand Theft Auto, in which she had a tireless delight in running people over with cars (*squish*), and I feel her education into geekdom is coming along quite well. I refuse to give her hints when she plays the game, so she muddles through giving the occasional "harumph" to remind me that my silence is annoying her. The funniest part of watching her play (and I know I do this too) is when she tentatively turns a corner and is fearful of what may be lurking around it, she'll physically lean over in her chair as if to peek around the laptop's screen. This is both hilarious and endearing to me. "Young Padawan, your training is almost complete."

And it rained this morning.

Every summer, Southern California is blessed or cursed with one day of rain. It usually comes in late July or early August and only lasts an hour or two. For a region of the country pretty unused to water falling from the sky, its quite a surprise. This unseasonal, yet predicatible event should, I think, be commerorated as a "floating holiday." Everyone should get the day off on Summer Rain Day whenever it should occur. But the following conditions would be in effect:

- Nobody can drive on Summer Rain Day. Whenever it rains in Southern California there is about a billion car accidents. Rain here causes everyone to play automotive slip and slide because no one seems to understand that their 5000 lb SUV sporting high performance tires doesn't corner well in standing water. This morning, a semi truck overturned on I-5 and they closed 3 lanes of traffic turning what (I'm told) is a hellish morning commute into a parking lot. So driving is out.

- Nobody goes to the beach. I'm not being selfish here, this is pure prudence. On Summer Rain Day, there is no sun and it is usually cold and the ocean has enough bacteria runoff to turn you green.

- Nobody waters their lawn. Need I explain?
(Our excuse was that the sprinklers were preset for 6am, what's yours?)


Of course Kim and I already had the day off so we're already playing video games. :)

Following the Yellow Brick Road

July in San Diego after our personal tornado.

Its not quite Oz, but I feel that we're like the tinman and scarecrow (not to say, brainless and heartless, its an imperfect metaphor okay?) on our own little walking tour and have to keep pulling each other on. That, and the mist that hides our emerald city in the distance? Apparently, that's monsoonal moisture. Who knew Oz would be stuck under a high pressure system with unseasonable humidity. Baah.

Like Dorothy, I've also managed to surround myself with munchkins thanks to a wonderful organization called the Clairemont Boys and Girls Club. On weekday afternoons, I get to call myself a "volunteer" while pretending to be a kid again playing foosball, ping pong, basketball and doing some wicked block building with all my new 6 to 11 year old friends. Jealous yet? If you've ever wanted to go back in time and be the biggest kid at school - you know, the one who everyone looks up to because he can dunk the basketball (small hoops) and can score with the foosball goalie (little kids have weak arms) - let me impress on you that it can be easily done by calling it "community service." Wicked.

When dunking on 8 year old girls gets boring (i'm kidding, it never gets boring), there's been ample time to surf, visit friends in Santa Barbara and perfect my sudoku solving skills. That's right, sudoku. Though I doubt this skill will immediately translate into financial gain or have even the slightest benefit towards doing anything that isn't a sudoku puzzle, it is certainly possible that, when we reach the emerald city, through that green shining door with the little door in the middle, a little munchkin arm will present us with a 9 x 9 grid that claims its solution to be "very hard."

And I, my friends, will be ready.

Wicked.

Return

KS -
So we’ve been back a few days now and are slowly adjusting to the time, food, climate (sure has been hot here ey?), and the idea of being here.

I feel I need to say, immediately, how grateful I am to be received by our true friends and family, with support and without judgment. Thank you to everyone who understands that this is something we wanted to do because we truly want to give back and that we still intend to do so, and that recognizing that something is wrong for you doesn’t mean you aren’t the better for having tried.

We knew it would be hard in many ways, we were prepared, we did the research and reading, bought the gadgets, talked to people, and thought we knew as much as possible about what we might expect. The reality was different, as sometimes it can be, in so very many ways, and only being there yourself can justly explain. The culture placed unexpected limitations on us, the welcome was more cold than warm, the optimism and excitement, not there in the way I had imagined. The apathy, resignation, and fatalism: Heavy. This is not to say that it was all bad. Or that everyone would have the same experience, that even we would have had the same experience, in a different country, or at a different time in our lives. Cameroon is a beautiful country. Look out Costa Rica if eco-tourism ever rears it’s green head, Cameroon will take you down! Some of the people and staff we met were wonderful, persevering and gracious. And, despite our quick departure, we were ensured that we will always have a family waiting for us in Mbalmayo, and that is so amazing.

I hear that some might misconstrue Chris’ earlier post on the time being hard on our relationship as a sign of marital trouble – being newly married and moving half way around the world – this wasn’t the case at all. The problem was not in the strength of our relationship, or the reactions we had being too different (in fact they were very much the same), but rather us realizing we liked what we had, and didn’t want to sacrifice it for what we thought we had come for. And the longer we spent the more we felt we might actually have to choose. It was culturally inappropriate to have the wonderful, silly, loving relationship we so enjoy. Showing any sort of affection toward each other - we were lead to believe, and to some extent experienced - was inappropriate and might actually put us at some sort of a safety risk. The experience is stressful – just making it through the day, eating and drinking - and not to be able to hold someone’s hand when you need them, is hard. And then when the day is through, you are so spent from having ‘survived’ you have little time or energy to put into that one you care the most about. Some may think we are naïve for giving up an experience like this because we couldn’t be mature enough to separate ourselves, but how often does this kind of happiness come around? You can put yourself through all kinds of torture alone because you think you need to, but it’s much harder to watch the one you love go through it and not question whether or not it’s worth it. We will find a better way, together.

After 10 days of unhappiness I caught a glimpse of the person I might become at the end of it, and realized that wasn’t the person I wanted to become. Those weren’t ways I was willing to change. Part of going was to try and change myself. But in deciding to come back I’ve actually found I like the person I was leaving behind more than I thought. So if nothing more, I’ve found many things I didn’t realize I liked so much about myself, and that’s not so bad J

All the people I’ve returned to who have said that they knew that person all along, Thank you. It makes me smile. I will take my idealism and the things I like about who I am and build on them in a positive and healthy way.

I suppose in some ways I felt that I needed to be a martyr in order to help people. That I had been given too much in my life without earning it, and I had to give it all up and be miserable in order to level the playing field and help. What I found is that I can’t be of much service unhappy, sick, or scared, and that I can do good from a place of balance within my own life. I don’t have to sacrifice my health and happiness to help others, of anything it would be doing a disservice to them to try. I could have pushed through for a couple of years, and come out the other side worn down and depressed, but able to check that duty off my list. Instead, I can resume my wonderful romance, dabble in the hobbies I enjoy, and do all the things that make it possible to maintain the momentum I need to live a lifetime of service.

So in closing, - if you are still with me J - I just want to say, don’t be afraid to try.Plenty of successful people can tell you that, and coming from them it might be intimidating, but coming from someone who has “tried” and “failed” I’ll tell you it’s been an amazing journey. I’ve learned that it won’t kill me if it doesn’t end up the way I had planned, that I can still feel better for not having to ask the “What if’s?” and realizing that I know myself better than I thought in some ways, and that in those ways I didn’t know myself, at least I could acknowledge my limits.