The agony and the ecstasy...

That's a movie or something, right? Right now it's my life. It's my own personal evolution in the sense that each hour, I feel a little different or know a little more than I did the one before. (I've re-written this like three different times because it's outdated faster than I can approve my own content ;)

On the whole, I probably should have been a little wiser to my own impending adjustments from Chicago to the western Cape, but somehow I didn't see any of these conflicting feelings coming and I'm road kill--splattered, inside out and wishing I'd turned a different direction. There's probably no way I could return to somewhere I've been without having some expectation of what it would be like, but Sun Valley is different than I remember it--maybe it's because I'm staring down a nine month long barrel? It's winter and rains sideways some mornings; I don't quite know as many people as I thought I did; I don't speak the same language as 97% of my new co-workers; jet-lag did a nasty number on me and I've completely lost my voice (don't know if I'm actually sick or just hoarse, but since I'm working with people who have suppressed immune systems, I can not risk getting them sick)...so when I have heartrending loneliness, I can't even articulate it. I'm just alone in it.

Yet, there's the ecstasy part too. Blessedly, it keeps surfacing. I am convinced I am where I should be. I've gone surfing for the first time and have an excellent flatmate. And the sideways rain only lasts a few moments before the sun comes back out and there are riotous rainbows all the time. When I am welcomed, I am welcomed full stop, as they say. I am glad this is just a single entry in what is to be a long time gone.

Lord. That all sounds so dramatic...now that I'm just back from brunch (my favorite meal out) and ice cream on the beach, in the middle of winter. See? Perfect example of the ecstasy part.