Back to Normal

Hello! Did you miss me? What’s that? Not really?

I’m alright with that.

I’ve been home from Ghana for exactly one month and it already feels like the past 4.5 months happened to somebody else.  Memories are blurring and experiences seem like folklore that couldn’t have possibly happened to me. Like there’s no way that I willingly rode on the back of multiple motorcycles or hitchhiked or biked for 18 km through sand. On the equator. It can’t possibly be true that I went without bagels for 140 days and lost enough weight to justify being called “emaciated.” What? I was drunk one time? Blasphemy! I spent dozens of hours a week working with kids?! And they liked me?! And I liked them?! HA. I fell into a body of water? Oh. Okay. That I can believe.

So here I am, 30 days later, thrust back into my hectic DC lifestyle of countless hours in Starbucks, devoid of much human contact outside of work. Just the way I like it it’s been for the past 2.5 years. I hadn’t been in DC for over 8 months yet I’ve slipped seamlessly back into my old routines. Starbucks. Class. Work. Starbucks. Sleep. Repeat. I have a meal on occasion and I sometimes even interact with other humans, but that’s usually accidental or grudgingly. I also make sure to squeeze in some Maria Sharapova/Australian Open stalking time. Did anyone really expect that my social preferences or tendencies would be any different after coming home? Case in point: Within the first 2 minutes of being back to school I was described as “flustered” and “nervous.”

Back to normal.

The only remarkable thing about being home is probably how unremarkable my “normal” life is. Every day seemed like a spectacle when I was away and now I’m back and things are so repetitive and so completely uninteresting, and….well I guess if I really cared I could do something about that. I think part of me likes slipping by unnoticed again throughout my daily routine; in Ghana invisibility isn’t something that was easy to come by. Here everybody goes about their lives oblivious to those around them. No more stares, no more being honked at, no more being talked to by random people interested in me just because I’m a ridiculous-looking white boy. Of course I tend to have a few unfortunate encounters with strangers on the streets of DC/in Starbucks, but otherwise I’m back to blending in.

Then there’s the part of me that partially misses the attention. This may come as a surprise to none some of you, but people don’t tend to be interested in anything about me. A major part of that probably has to do with the apathy towards human interaction that just radiates from my being, but there really isn’t much about me that can be deemed intriguing. For those of you who feel that way, just spend some weeks in Africa and you just existing becomes interesting enough for those around you. So what if the major demographic of people who looked forward to seeing me were kids 10 and under? Anyone expressing interest in my company was refreshing, something I’m not likely to encounter again anytime soon.

I really miss the kids I worked with at Beacon House. The good thing about the constant busyness of my life now is that I can go days without thinking about them, without wondering if they’re doing well, if anyone else is close to being adopted, if any of them miss me. I keep myself busy and push these thoughts down and avoid looking at pictures and for a while this is effective. And then I get an email from my former boss telling me that Ben was sad one day and it was because he misses me. And then freakin Mama Irene posts on my Facebook wall in the middle of the night saying, “hi Matthew. greetings from Prince.” Seriously, Mama Irene? That’s not what I wanna see right now. I’m doing the best I can to not think about that kid, and you go and write that to me?!

Of course my attempts at keeping Prince and the others out of my mind isn’t successful for long. Despite my endless efforts of self-preservation that kid slips into my mind and once even in my dreams (we just rolled a ball together. It was wonderful), and everything floods back. I remember that his future is so uncertain and likely difficult, and the overwhelming dread that passes through me is exhausting. All I want for him and for the others is to remain as unburdened and excitable as they were when I left. I don’t want life to jade them the way it tends to, mostly for people (like me) whose lives aren’t anywhere near the level of misfortune that warrants it.

So that’s my Beacon House shpeal, the last one you’ll likely see from me. There’s too much ahead of me that I need to focus on, and maybe (shockingly) look forward to. I started my internship at the Wilson Center  this week, and I’m already wondering how long it’ll take for my co-workers to witness just how incapable I am at communicating. Good thing I’m in the Development office where interacting with people is pretty much all that goes on. I’ve got GW’s Inaugural Ball on Monday night, one of the rare times I’m looking forward to being fancy. I’m mostly just excited to see just how sloppy people will inevitably get. I’m still figuring out what my summer travel plans are, with a trip to Vancouver all that’s pretty much finalized. There’s a 6 week window of travel I’d like to fill with another Projects Abroad stint, and there’s a strong possibility that I may end up in Mongolia. We’ll see!

I completely forgot that I have videos that Ghanaian internet made impossible to upload, and I decided to share a couple that I have of Prince. Just because I don’t think pictures did him justice.

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