Can I take it back?

I miss my blog.

Let me repeat.

I miss my blog, I miss my blog.

Well maybe that’s not entirely accurate; it’s not the blog that I am really missing, it’s my writing. It’s been a few months now since I have been off the register, checked out, away from these digital street corners that I once frequented. Part of me has enjoyed this little break. If anything I have been busy. The greatest endowment of life is that it is indisputably good at filling up a vacuum. In the space that my writing once occupied I now have distraction A, B, and C, lovely little hobbies, pleasures, and pastimes that seek to apprehend my attention. I have Facebook to play around with, a Masters course to attend to, and lots of wonderful books to read. I have a profession to ruminate over, a girlfriend to concentrate on, and a household that needs my attention. I have rivers to jump into, trips to take. I have movies, children, and performances to watch. I have Sponge Bob, beer, cartwheels and coconuts, parents, priorities, amen’s and allergies. I have life filling up the vacuum.

Somewhere in that grand ice cream swirl of existence I have my book. It’s out there somewhere, floating in the realm of possibility. I started working on a couple chapters – one on Carnival and the other an opening scene at the Festa de Iemanja – but have lacked the inspiration to move on. I realize that if I want to accomplish anything significant I’m going to have change the way I approach my writing. With my research and academics I have always been disciplined, setting out healthy blocks of time to complete my assignments. My creative writing, on the other hand, has always been fueled by capricious waves of inspiration. When I FEEL like writing, I do. I get out the shit dancing inside my head. It is my therapy, my release, and not something I can entirely control.

There is also part of me that feels like I am not ready to start working. This book will be about my time here in Brazil, about my right of passage experience, about cultural heritage, and relationships, and finding adulthood. How can I begin writing, I think to myself, when the final chapter has not yet been lived?

Speaking of which, there has been a number of developments (or realizations) in these last few months that need to be addressed.

Realization 1: I love Brazil. I love it so much that I am now ready to leave. How does this work you may ask? Well, it works much like that ex relationship you once had; the one that you invested a great deal of your heart, and time, and hopes into. At one point, the relationship worked great for you. It was satisfying, challenging, and fun. But then, one day, you realized that despite your good intentions the relationship was actually holding you back—that in all honesty it could exhaust your life potential rather than establish it.

This hard won understanding can be mostly attributed to…

Realization 2: I am poor. Exceptionally poor. I live in a veritable slum. I can’t afford a cell phone, personal transport, or regular visits to the grocery store. For the most part, that’s ok. I can’t think of a better life lesson for an American to learn because, quite frankly, stuff does not equal happiness and there is great liberty in owning little (wake up people!). That said, I am ok with this lifestyle, just not forever. I am getting close to the big 30—that awkward transition into phase 1.1 of adulthood (i.e. “planning for the future”). There are certain things that I want to accomplish in my life that I just can’t do from here.

Realization 3: I am an educated and talented professional, or at least I am on the brink of becoming one. I am a Magna Cum Laude Anthropology graduate, with international experience, who in just over six months will graduate (possibly with a 4.0) with a Masters in Education. If I continue to apply myself, I will be a tri-citizen, tri-lingual, and have great potential in the fields of Public History, Anthropology, Global Education, [insert field here].

The unfortunate thing is…

Realization 4: I can’t get there from where I’m at. The international school where I currently work is on a push to get approval from SACS, an organization that legitimizes educational institutions. My original hope was to get a teaching position at the school, and I had a good chance considering my work background, the masters, and my personal connections. But the current director is now weeding out people who don’t have a teaching certificate from the States (which I don’t). My options are, remain a teacher assistant and cut out paper for the rest of my life, or hunt for better job and schooling opportunities elsewhere. Could that elsewhere be somewhere else in Brazil? It could. But the reality is…

Realization 5: What I can accomplish in 3 years of working in the States would take me at least 10 years in Brazil. This is the unfortunate truth, and I wouldn’t care so much if I was still in my adventure phase. But now, as a working stiff, the Brazil formula doesn’t add up. Better to pick the option which gives me more options I always say. With money, I can always come back, visit, even have a summer home. Without options, I am stuck, and there is nothing worse than feeling trapped.

Anyway, that’s enough for now. My plans are in motion. Vivi is graduating in December, and I will be done in January or February. Come June or July of 2011, should various other unknowns fall into place, we will both be on our way to some other (hopefully first world) horizon. What we do when we get there is another matter – perhaps a Ph.D. for me, a Masters in Linguistics for her – who knows.

All I know with certainty is that…

I miss my blog. I miss my blog. I really miss my blog.

And I really need to start writing again.