Hey there. How are you doing? You've been getting a little weird lately with your new boyfriend Donald, but that's not what I'm here to write about. The more I try to stand in your way, the more you'll just be drawn to him, so I have to step back and trust you for now.
There is a saying that goes something like, "You don't know your own language until you know another," and that is true of countries and cultures, too. My last five years in Ecuador and Spain have made me truly appreciate you. I know I talk a lot about how much I have enjoyed my time abroad, and I know that I have just left once again, but I wanted to let you know just how important you are to me.
First and foremost, you contain all of these people that I love. You are seriously just littered with them, and you have so extravagantly lain them about that I could spend all of my time just bouncing around from coast to coast. The rest of the world has been thrilling and fascinating to discover, but it's quite large, and thinly populated with people that I know and care about personally. I'm sure there are a lot more wonderful people out there, but trying to find all of them can be exhausting. For every exciting new encounter, there are at least 10 lonesome and frustrating stretches of stagnation, no matter how much I seem to be moving around.
 |
| Javi, responsible for coining the title of this post |
This past year back in Maryland was not a year of firsts, but it was a year of first-in-awhiles. For example, it was the first real winter that I've had in 6 years. Not only that, but we were fully snow-bombed at the end of January, and it reminded me of what a communal event a blizzard can be. Everyone was watching the weather, buying too many groceries, and exchanging knowing glances with friends and strangers alike. And as it turns out, 100% of cashiers are aspiring meteorologists. By the time 3 feet of powder had hushed and blanketed Walkersville, I had watched The Martian with my mom and step dad, gorged on black bean soup with tortilla chips, twice, and thrown on all of my mountain gear to hike less than a mile to a friend's house with a bottle of wine and some bourbon. The parallel universe inside of Call of Duty is still recovering. On my walk (okay, stupor) back home the next day, I learned that at some point in my absence, everyone, EVERYONE, had bought a snowblower. The sidewalks were better than the roads, and I couldn't help grinning at how the whole neighborhood was outside and interacting, with a European casualness, as if Spain had stopped by to ironically say hello through inclement weather.
 |
| You are never too old for building snow ramps! |
And even before that, there was Ethel's wedding. Where do I begin with that one? My sister's wedding was not the first wedding I've been involved with, but it does mark the first time that after months of thoughtful and meticulous planning and preparation, a hurricane swept through and totally destroyed almost every detail, save for the participants. I would like to stress that I am not being figurative here. A fucking hurricane hit fucking Delaware on the fucking weekend of Ethel's fucking outdoor wedding. In October. On 3 days notice, we had to find a new venue and alter every single catering arrangement that had been made for 150 people, and do so with flooding and tidal highway closures. By "we" I mean mostly my sister Joy, but still it was all hands on deck. It was stressful, and crazy, and new shit was going down every 5 minutes. And I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
 |
| Expectations of an outdoor wedding by the beach |
 |
| Reality |
So, America, why have I left? Partly, it's because for a time, I have once again chosen to live near those who share some of my recent experiences. People who will, shuddering with laughter, describe the time that they, too, accidentally ordered and ate raw shrimp. Or horse. Who are likely to have also spent an entire day walking around town and gesticulating for "bed sheets" in the dullest game of public charades imaginable. Or who, when facing the arbitrary rules set forth by banks, post offices, and vehicular agencies, are okay being left not only with the leisurely question of "why?" but also with urgent and dumbfounding questions of "how the fuck?" Already in Durres, I seem to have found a pretty good group of these people. More than any of that, though, my leaving comes down to a simple worldview.
Imagine that someone is offered a job. For the sake of argument, let's say it's the exact job that they were looking for, and that they feel both very good doing it and very qualified for it. And now let's imagine the interviewer saying, "As a global service, this is actually a job that you can do from anywhere you want. Where would you like to work?" Some people may hear this and say, "Perfect, I'll work from home!" And why not? The commute is unbeatable, and the flexibility is a dream.
Others when prompted with the question, "Where would you like to work?" may instead respond with something in the vein of, "Umm...Mongolia?" For good or ill, this is my kind of answer. There is nothing inherently good or bad about either one, it's only that neither group can really fathom why the other doesn't agree with them. Both groups seem to find their choices obvious, and their explanations superfluous.
 |
| Sunset from my new apartment in Durres |
This kind of choice requires us to trust ourselves. It requires us to live by our own gumption. The hardest choices are the ones that we cannot explain to the satisfaction of others, yet still seem to feel are right. I don't mean here that decisions should go unexamined. Living by your own gumption is about what we do after we have exhausted thought and reflection and still have no clear idea of what we should do next. It is trying to make the decision that you would make if there were a gun to your head...only there is no gun to your head. There is only a vaguely familiar voice whispering things that you already know. Is it the voice of reason, or some sad monologue of fear? Or the deep, rumbling call for indiscriminate change? Or the giggle of excitement? Living by your own gumption is the choice you make once you realize that even delaying a choice is making a choice.
I guess, America, I am leaving so that I can do it right this time. Because by choosing this, I don't feel like I necessarily have to lose the closeness that I've rediscovered with friends and family back home. In my first blog post on here, I described the tug-of-war I have felt between wanting to explore new places and missing people I care about. I'm beginning to suspect, though, that perhaps I don't have to sacrifice one for the other. Perhaps there is a way to do this that won't leave me torn. Perhaps it's just a question of priorities, and of living in a way that keeps people close even when I'm far away. This is what the voice is whispering to me now, and regardless of whether or not I can pull it off, the only way to know is to try again. I hope you are doing well, and I will be seeing you very soon.
Sincerely,
Andy
P.S. Seriously though, Donald's no good for you. Get your shit together.
 |
| Cheers to many Sharknadoes still to come. |
