You Can Never Go Back Home
Well, I've been back in the U.S. of Fucking A for a week now. My mom's health took a turn for the worse, she hasn't been eating or taking her medicine as much as she should, her mind is really going, and some important decisions are going to have to be made about her. So after four months on the road, I was suddenly ripped from this fantasy life of Mayan villages and volcano lakes into the harsh reality of fat ass America. I got no house, no car, no job, and one sick mom, on top of this country that has become completely intolerable to me. Every doughy suburbanite makes me sick to my stomach, every "you're so retarded, Sandra" makes my head spin. I'm going stir crazy here and the only thing keeping me from total despair is that I know it should only be temporary. But everything is pretty uncertain and I might have to spend a couple months here, I might even look for some kind of job. Tough decisions to make. I love my mom, but it's frustrating to see her this way with not much I can do for her. It's hard to judge her health too, but I don't think she is as sick as I was led to believe before I came home. I don't know, my life is thousands of miles away from here right now, so it's shocking and disorienting to be back and all I can think about is just leaving again. I know it sounds harsh, but I don't think I have it in me to wait around. I can't just sit here, slobbering like some ghoul, waiting for my mom to die. It's too morbid, too disgusting, too depressing, and I'm not that kind of martyr.
But I'm trying to make the best of it, spending lots of time with my friends and catching up on some movies and books and music, doing some skateboardering and going to shows. But I get flustered every time I think about Central America and where I should be, rather than stuck back in the shithole suburbs, bouncing around between friends' couches.
I haven't felt much like writing lately, but I guess I should what with all my frustrations.
I've been able to gauge now exactly how much my Spanish has improved. It's crazy to be back here and now have conversations with my friend's grandma when before I could only pick up a few words. My Dad and my aunts were real impressed too when I was talking to them. Before, I remember kind of tuning out their Spanish because they said so much I couldn't understand, but now I'm right in there with them and it thrills me to have improved so measurably.
Trying to make the best of it, trying to be optimisitc, but often I just get in these moods where all I can think of is getting back to Central America. I had like three dreams about San Pedro last night. I need to cut loose.
But I'm trying to make the best of it, spending lots of time with my friends and catching up on some movies and books and music, doing some skateboardering and going to shows. But I get flustered every time I think about Central America and where I should be, rather than stuck back in the shithole suburbs, bouncing around between friends' couches.
I haven't felt much like writing lately, but I guess I should what with all my frustrations.
I've been able to gauge now exactly how much my Spanish has improved. It's crazy to be back here and now have conversations with my friend's grandma when before I could only pick up a few words. My Dad and my aunts were real impressed too when I was talking to them. Before, I remember kind of tuning out their Spanish because they said so much I couldn't understand, but now I'm right in there with them and it thrills me to have improved so measurably.
Trying to make the best of it, trying to be optimisitc, but often I just get in these moods where all I can think of is getting back to Central America. I had like three dreams about San Pedro last night. I need to cut loose.