My year on the alternate path.
I have made what could be one of the most important decisions in my life. I have decided to pursue my Ph.D. in English and throw all my other plans out the window. Some people probably are not shocked by this development. I am a little shocked at myself for finally admitting what I really want. Sure, publishing is a very practical and profitable way to utilize my degree, but when have I made decisions that are either practical or profitable? Where is the adventure in a nine to five job? Where is the heartache and struggle that leads to growth in security? I want intellectual challenges before I lose all motivation. The first few months here have made me realize that.
My problem now is that I am getting very focused on the application process: the GREs, getting recommendations, writing essays, and the like. It may be a detriment to my life in community by pulling me away or creating an unnecessary attachment. On the other hand, it may be exacerbating problems that need to be part of community discussion, things that I have pushed out of my head in the spirit of presenting a happy face to the world. You can only keep issues suppressed for so long. Yesterday, things came to a head for me. I had to admit to myself that I am not happy here. There are moments of happiness, but overall, I have been struggling to find silver linings.
Essentially, the way things have been shaping up lately in community is not satisfying for me. Drinking is just one of many issues that challenge me. For example, there was a period where we would find fun events and not spend our weekend nights either sitting around watching a movie or going to (or hosting) a party. In truth, I have never been attached to the party culture. My feeling is that if we have some sort of reliance on drinking for social interaction, something is very broken in our community. Sure, I like to go out to bars with friends, and I especially like to go out dancing and to hear music, but I also like to go out to coffee shops, plays, movies, tourist traps, hikes, and nearly anything else anyone could think of. Things have been so bland that way. The JVC ideal of alcohol consumption is meant to be responsible enjoyment. The reality, on the other hand, is something resembling the house parties I purposefully avoided in college. It seems foolish to me to waste our precious time here watching people play drinking games. I hate that our life as a community revolves around such interactions. I have spoken about my discomfort with my community before, but I am starting to wonder if I should reiterate the point.
I dealt with issues involving alcohol during college. I wanted to come out here and escape things, but clearly, I failed in that. Was I running from personal issues involving relationships with people who have abused alcohol or drugs? Is that what lead me to a program I thought would be more restrictive? The answer is likely yes. It is not something I have though a lot about, admittedly. I avoided the issues purposefully, but now, I know that events will lead me to a point where I must confront them. I know I am not ready. That is why I am starting to freak out.
I know that it should not be a big deal, but it is to me. I have had to grin and bear such interactions for years, and they largely make me miserable. It has made me realize how much I take the “suffer in silence” idea into anything I do with JVC: with my job (lesser so lately, as work is improving), in community discussions, and social interactions. I often find myself thinking that this experience was not what I signed up for, and in many ways, it is the opposite of what I want. I do not know what I am supposed to be learning from this conflict. I broke down yesterday for the first time in months. This experience is not what I imagined. I am being forced to explain why I feel the way I do and have been forced to answer honestly: I am disappointed.
I see what the program could be, and when aspects essential to success are thrown by the wayside, the ideal JV year crumbles. The idea of a perfect JV year cannot come into reality. By forming an ideal, you create something no one can attain. You are faced with the harsh reality that you are not living with angels, but humans with completely different ideas of the values than you. For them, simplicity, social justice, spirituality, and community have completely different meanings than what you conceived in your life experiences. In the cold light of day, we each determine how deeply we go into the experience, and each person’s experience is entirely different. You cannot impose your ideas onto someone else. Frustration can easily arise when you realize this fact, as I have recently, and maybe the best way to deal with such issues is to bring them to a community space and name them. I cannot hold things in anymore, whether for propriety or self-preservation. It is time to admit reality.
I’ve had a busy few weeks here on the West Coast. Two weekends ago, we had retreat at Brooks Memorial National Park south of Yakima and north of Goldendale. We spent four days out in the country, staying in an A-frame cabin. The drive down was beautiful and diverse; we went from the city through the snowy mountains and across the high desert down into an area that resembled home, complete with hills, colorful trees, and farms. When we stopped at a gas station, the people even sounded like people from home. One of the girls from Yakima insisted that the area is three hundred days of the year, the complete opposite of the weather in Seattle. Skeptical though I was, the sun did not disappoint: we were blessed with a gorgeous weekend.
The retreat itself was focused on “Right Relationship,” so we focused a lot on community building. There was a good amount of downtime, so it was actually a retreat, rather than something forced and uncomfortable like orientation. I had time to read, play outside, and socialize with people from other communities. I decided that I want to learn to play the guitar, because it is a good skill to have, especially given the JV culture. Who doesn’t want campfire time? I needed a break from work, especially after spending almost two weeks of work without my boss. My responsibilities more than doubled when she was away, so it was a relief to get away from the job for a little while.
One of the more interesting activities we participated in was a cultural diversity experiment. They split the forty JVs in attendance into six groups: two groups of observers and four other groups, each assigned one of two cultures. The cultures themselves were radically different: one reserved and uptight, the other open and affectionate. Not surprisingly, I pulled the more reserved group. Shocker, right? Anyway, we were given a sheet of cultural norms to define our actions. It was not exactly a stretch to act in a reserved and formal fashion; it was par for the course for me. As a group, we planned to act in a certain way when we encountered the other groups: we planned to talk about haughty subjects, laugh in a certain way, speak in a cultured but cold manner, react adversely to touch, and use “sirs” and “madams.” Practice and theory, however, never matched. When we went to the meeting ground, we were accosted. In truth, we became a reactionary group, only acting in response to the extremely invasive actions of the other group. We were hugged upon our entry, dragged into conversations about “uncouth” issues like politics, and pulled away from our comfortable cluster of those in our culture.
Can you guess where I’m going with this idea? I think it is a bit obvious, given the usual tenor of these entries. Maybe I have been a tad over-reflective in writing about my experiences, but without reflection, what point is there to act? As I am so often reminded of in L’Arche meetings, “An unexamined life is not worth living.” So much of my time is spent in reflection that I sometimes am finding it hard to act, a phenomenon I’ve never experienced before.
Lately, I have observed that there is a distinct duality in my existence. I have changed since coming here; that is obvious. My normal mode is that of the group I personified: when I’m on my own, I act in the reserved way we tried to in our group. It is the way I have been since I can remember, and I only really started to depart from this mode in my senior year of college. What switched in me, I cannot exactly say, but I recognize that most of my personal growth has occurred since the beginning of this year.
Call it coming out of my shell or something else, but I have shifted my perspective into something more mature and open. I have not, however, completely transcended the gulf between the two groups. I do not think I ever will. I will not become one of those super-social completely open people that I have known throughout my life, like those friends in college who knew everyone they passed in the hallway. I think that is okay. I’ve accepted my personality: I am a homebody who likes personal space and a few close friends. I love to explore and go on adventures but not every day.
I’ve come to know myself better and to understand what I want and need. JVC is what I need right now, though it might not always be what I want. I have a lot of self-doubt about the value of my decision, given some discontent I have had at my job. I like my work, but it is not my life’s ambition, so it can be frustrating. Given the choice, I would run to grad school without a second thought, but what growth is there in that for me? Very little, though I would learn practical things for a future occupation. I need to learn about the world and others before I go back to school or there would be no point for this whole adventure.
A week ago Saturday, our neighborhood lost power. We initially thought it had something to do with our circuit breakers, so armed with headlamps, Meg and I checked in the cellar. Though the basement was a little scary, given the random animals we’ve been seeing around our place like possums and raccoons, everything was fine. Then, we walked down the street and found that the lights were out all over the place, including the stoplight on the corner of our road. We came back to the house and lit some candles. Eventually, the boys came home, and Mercy House, the other JVC house in Seattle, stopped by on the way back from dinner with their support people.
Now, you might question what eleven bored JVs might do when the power is out, but you must not forget that we are extremely adept at entertaining ourselves. Living on a budget does wonders for one’s ability to create lemonade from lemons. A night without power is, by no stretch of the imagination, the worst hardship we’ll experience this year. We chatted and played about six rounds of Mafia, which is JVC Northwest’s unofficial official game. I kept getting killed in the first round, but overall, it was a fun night.
Inspired by the success of this powerless night, our community decided to institute weekly energy fasts. Though I’d like to claim this idea as original to our community, I cannot. Our area director suggested it during her visit, due to some concerns about the use of technology in our community. We decided that the best day of the week to institute the fast would be Spirituality Night, which normally falls on Tuesdays. Obviously, we could not completely eliminate all uses of energy. We need heat, so we don’t freeze to death in the night. Additionally, we can’t fast from energy during work. As fun as it would be to try to make candles without power, I don’t think my boss would like it very much.
Tuesday morning, therefore, was quiet: no showers, since there was no hot water; no coffee; no using the stove; no computers; no music. It was a definite adjustment, but it was nice to have a simpler morning. Luckily, I get up for work after the sun is up, so I didn’t have to mess with candles or flashlights when I was trying to get ready. Coming home from work was a different story. Though it wasn’t completely dark in the house, no lights meant no reading, which I normally do when I get home, so Beth and I went down to Seattle University to use the gym. When we came home, the challenges of going without lights were more obvious, since the house was considerably darker. I hadn’t been assigned to dinner that night, but I can imagine the difficulty of preparing a dinner for six without lights or heat. We had a nice, simple dinner of sandwiches, fruit, and cheese by candlelight. Afterward, Ben and I had dishes, which was no picnic in the dark. We did get to use hot water for that, thankfully, or else the experience would have been unbearable. Spirituality Night itself is normally done by candlelight or at least low light, so it was nothing different to have it in the dark. We had a really good discussion before ending. Most people went to bed directly after, given that most people had a long day.
Overall, the energy fast was enjoyable. I feel that we get so distracted by technology and the benefits of energy that we lose the beauty in silence and darkness. The social interactions we had during our first energy fast were great and much richer than they would have been if we would have been listening to music or watching a movie. The fast served to remind me how much we use technology as a crutch for social interaction. Turn off the lights, the television, the computer: see what remains without them. I’m looking forward to the next one, but it will be a bit different, given that we’re having dinner at our support people’s house for Spirituality Night.
Oh, politics: the buzz-kill at many a Seattle social event, especially if you’re not a lefty.
I’m writing this after the third presidential debate. I’ve watched all three: the first, I watched with the boys in my house while waiting to go to dinner with a friend from college; the second, I watched with my whole house and a large number of others at Café Metropolitan during a benefit for one of my housemate’s organizations, Equal Rights Washington (a group advocating for GLBT rights. Needless to say, it was left-leaning); and the last here at the house, by myself for the majority of the time. Politics has been a constant topic of conversation since we arrived here two months ago, and the talk has only intensified as time has progressed.
I am not a typical Washington voter. First of all, I’m still registered to vote at home, so I’ll be using the absentee ballot to vote in Pennsylvania. Secondly, my personal political leanings don’t line up with either candidate. I’m absolutely a moderate, although I’m registered as a Democrat. I only registered that way so I could vote in the Democratic primaries in 2004. This year, I actually liked both candidates when they were running in the primaries, but the general election has sucked all of the fun out of these two, although I had been really interested in them initially. Obama dove into mudslinging too quickly and leans too liberal for my tastes, especially in his ideas about healthcare and taxes. McCain picked a running-mate who I’ll have a hard time taking seriously, especially after her performance at the last debate. I’ve also had issues with his fiscal policy, specifically his “spending freeze” idea. Therefore, you’ll still find me squarely in the pile of the undecided voters, an uncommon breed in my area of the Northwest.
I say undecided voters are uncommon, because Seattle is ridiculously left-leaning. Here, I look like a decided Republican. I’ve met only a few people who are undecided and no one who is fixed on McCain. One of my housemates said that he had only seen a McCain sign half an hour outside of the city. It’s so different from home that it can be difficult to wrap my brain around. For example, you can walk down the street and see an Obama-Biden bumper sticker or sign every few steps. Most people here are staunch Obama supporters or are completely disillusioned with the two-party system and will be going third party. I won’t get into third party issues now; that’s an entirely separate issue. I’ll only say that we’re a representative democracy on a two party system; people would have to make a massive movement to make a change.
My point is that I miss living in a swing state. I miss open debate with other people who are undecided. I find that, when I declare myself as undecided in a non-JVC setting, I get attacked and accosted. I’ve had a few people speak to me very condescendingly, as if I don’t understand the importance of the election. They don’t realize that the degree I just earned in Political Science taught me more than enough about the government to know that the president, although he has little effective power, sets the tone for the nation. I understand how important the election is, thank you very much. My degree is not just a piece of paper; I sat through enough political philosophy to understand the workings of government. Although political conversations with committed voters come off as an intellectual exercise on the surface, I have often felt that the conversations I’ve had are more take than give; I may as well be talking to a wall for all the willingness to listen I’ve seen from some committed voters. Debate seems useless against people who’ve made up their minds beyond a doubt. Contrary to popular belief around here, McCain has a great number of redeeming qualities, and Obama has just as many flaws as his opponent (Need I remind everyone of the bible and gun comment about “bitter” Pennsylvanians?). I liked the time I spent talking about the election at work over the summer, where we had equal numbers on both sides and other people who hadn’t made their decision yet.
Maybe I’m just late, but I don’t want to decide yet. I feel that the election is one instance where I should not plan ahead. Lord knows what will happen between now and November. I want to be open to both possibilities, knowing full-well that, at the beginning of this process, I thought I’d be happy with either candidate. Though I’ve been disillusioned with the candidates over the past few months, I’m hopeful that whoever wins can bring something good to the table and make some positive motion in the government.
This post is something inevitable, as readers of my livejournal know pretty well. At least once every few months, I have an explosion of thinking about the future, and I speculate on what my plans are for the coming years. None of these ideas are perfectly concrete. I think of this writing more as a way to put my thoughts into a framework so I can work through them later. I’ve actually avoided thinking about the future as of yet, given the intentional nature of this year, but I have to indulge myself right now: I’m just in that sort of mood today.
So here’s my dilemma when thinking about life after JVC: I have an array of options, but I can never make decisions in advance. When choosing my path, I follow my gut, often at inopportune moments. This fact sometimes shocks people, given the amount of talking and researching I do when initially working through a decision. My best decisions, however, have been made on a whim: going to Canisius, for example. It was a snap decision, made when I had pretty much decided to focus solely on IUP, but it was a decision that I’ve never regretted. JVC was much the same. At one point last summer, I just thought it would be a good idea, so I changed my plans. The discernment process only made me more certain that my decision was the correct one.
So why all this discourse on the future if I’m going to make a decision at some point in the future that has little to do with facts or figures? I’m not sure. I think I like to relish in my options. Knowing that I have so many is a luxury. So many people haven’t had the opportunities I have. I’m blessed to grow up as I have, where I was able to attend a good school and then to take time off afterwards. It’s amazing that I’m able to have this year to collect my strength, to learn, to find my direction. Taking stock of options, in my opinion, is an exercise of the gifts I’ve been given.
Now, on to the speculation!
As I see it, I have four distinct options, in order of likelihood (from least to most):
1. Take another year with JVC or L’Arche. This option is one that I’m not entirely wedded to yet. It’s on the list only because I’d have to make a decision on this by January, so I need to keep it in mind. It’s not a hot prospect for me right now, but then again, you never know. I’ve looked into some of the other regions, specifically the East.
2. Go to grad school for Deaf Education. This one is something I’ve been considering since last year, but I never researched fully because of JVC. I have a passion for it, but the problem is that the only program I know of is at Canisius. I have reservations about going back, even though I couldn’t have asked for a better undergraduate experience. I worry that the atmosphere would be so different that I would feel out of place. Maybe if I do some more research, I’ll find something suitable.
3. Find a job in publishing. The more I work, the more attractive this option seems. I like the idea of starting fresh, without going into the workforce someplace familiar. I’m not talking about working in Corry, but maybe Erie, Jamestown, or Buffalo. I feel like my experience and my major qualify me for an entry level position at pretty much any paper. This one is the comfortable option. I’d be close to my family and friends, and I have connections to get a job. This option is the one that Dad supports. I’m torn between this and the final option: Grad school for Publication Arts. If I decide to work for a year, I may go to school after a year or two.
4. Go to grad school for Publication Arts or Journalism. This option is another comfortable choice. School is what I know; school is the road with which I’m most familiar. The schools I’m looking at are more adventurous geographically: Emerson College (Boston), University of Baltimore (Baltimore), and Syracuse University (Syracuse). I know people in Syracuse and Baltimore, so those are the two more attractive grad programs. Safety, however, is not something I’ve been entirely wedded to in my past decisions.
So, decisions. I don’t have to make a decision for a while, but again, I wish I could know. Truly, I may not end up doing any of these things. It will definitely be interesting to see where I wind up next year.
Living in a community has been both a blessing and a challenge for me. Given my personality (see the last entry for a description of that ad nauseum), I need a little more alone time to connect my thoughts or, as the JVs like to say, decompress. I’m blessed to be in a city ripe with opportunities to get involved or get active. Seattle, before any other description, is a city of activists: of joiners, of doers, of movers. Some get involved in organizations or political campaigns. Others are fervent hikers or, as in the case of a few of my roommates, in Ultimate Frisbee leagues. In the case of a transplant JV, it is a matter of finding a connection between something you feel passionate about from your life before and the new world in which you live. I’ve discovered my place in an environment where I’ve found solace my whole life: in church life.
Now, it may seem to be an overextension of the Spirituality value of the JV code for me to be even more involved with church, but I would argue that it is a practical place to find connections. It is one of the few things I can carry over from my life on the East Coast. As much as I would love to, I cannot join a colorguard. I cannot budget enough money or time to pick up my favorite activity; maybe I can catch a show some weekend, but participating or volunteering is not going to happen. Likewise, as much as I would love to continue singing in a college chorale, practicality destroys this idea. Where was I to find something to call my own? Where could I find something to remind me that I am an individual, with an identity outside of community?
My idea began as result of a community mission: to find the church that fit us as a group. We church-shopped for a while, visiting some different places around the city: the Ignatian chapel at Seattle University, St. James Cathedral, St. Joe’s Jesuit church. One of the things I love about being Catholic is the ceremony and my ability to walk into any service in any church and know all the prayers and songs. Following on this principle, every church has a choir. One of the most important activities I participated in during college was the chapel choir, the Contemporary Music Ensemble (the CME). Of all of my college activities, this one had the most impact, bringing me good friends and fun all four years at Canisius. Therefore, my real ambition in going to different churches was to scope out their choirs. The Seattle University chapel choir was close to the CME, but it didn’t feel right to me. The Cathedral choir was amazing, but to gain acceptance, you have to wait for an opening, then audition; there are currently no open alto spots. Unfortunately, the St. Joe’s choir was in a transitional period: their church and their music ministry were undergoing extensive changes. I knew about their state before attending mass, so I tried not to get my hopes up. Their music, however, was impressive, despite the lack of organization. Additionally, I liked the community. St. Joe’s is a lot of younger families, at least at the mass I attend. There is definitely some life in the other parishioners, and they want to be there; it’s refreshing. I made the decision to join up with the choir.
I’ve been a member of the church now for about three weeks. I should probably fill out the appropriate paperwork to become an official “member” of the church. I feel good about the decision, given the way I feel leaving mass on Sundays. I’ve been able to recapture some of the fire I had for music ministry and really focus. We have a retreat on Wednesday, and I look forward to being able to connect with the other choir members as time goes on. It’s nice to have something beyond community events to look forward to every week.
Our lovely front door
Dragon Boats on Lake Washington in front of Mt. Rainier
The crew at the Mariners game
Safeco field
On the suspension bridge at the Krista Foundation Hike
Carnation, WA on a hike
A tree on our hike
