On the road again…and the beginning of what I believe will be a lot of self-analysis!

I think that possibly one of my favorite parts of traveling is the bus ride (assuming that travel is taking place during the day, because at night you can’t see anything, people seem creepier, and stuff gets stolen!). Though this admission is quite possibly made easier due to the fact that one of my Spanish teachers (sad Lucia) was forward enough to inform me that one of her favorite parts of traveling is the bus ride, and with her very forward admission, I was able to feel as though there’s nothing wrong with passage being a favorite part of travel. Because someone else was saying it, and not me and because if I were to admit something like that, I would probably feel as though something were wrong with that since traveling really has more to do with seeing the destination than the process of getting there. Well, I judge myself more than others could possibly judge me (preemptive strike, and a habit that I am in the process of correcting).

Blither blather. Anyhew, I love sitting in a car (bus, vehicle, whatever) and looking out the window at the scenery going by. For the most part. I must admit that the scenery in central Washington leaves something to be desired. However, in other countries especially I have the hardest time drawing my eyes away from the window, even though I know that I probably won’t miss anything spectacular…but there’s still that part of me that thinks I might! Today, for example, my non-book-reading habit allowed me to see lots of…cows. And campo. (I’m getting to a place where some Spanish words just make more sense and sound better than English words!) Okay, countryside. Lots of tall, reedy grass, brush, advertisement billboards, some nice watery areas with the tall cat tail-looking things that have little white dusters at the top instead of brown twinkies (yes, that’s the technical term), some nasty brown watery areas with men wearing just their white underwear-looking shorts fishing for what I can only imagine are deathly poisonous fish…but I also saw in the middle of nowhere this beautiful, run-down church. Who knows who may have attended this church at one time, but it’s one of those places you drive by but you really want to stop and explore it, see what’s inside this building and feel like an explorer… I also saw a cute little old jockey man decked out in fun riding clothes riding his horse out in some random field and then upon entering Mar del Plata, I viewed a giant purple and white Milka cow statue (too bad it was on the other side of the bus otherwise I would have tried to whip out my camera in time!—oh yeah, my camera!). Five and a half hours of looking out the window and those are the priceless things I would have missed! It may not seem all that exciting, but what can I say, my eyes are drawn to the window with the desire to observe.

What was I thinking about during all of that time? Part of the time I was trying to not watch all of the movies that were being played on the TV which were horrible and yet for some reason I kept on getting distracted by them (some Will Smith robot movie—just how many movies has he been in, I wonder, where he saves the world?—then whatever that movie with Owen Wilson and Eddie Murphy in Budapest is). I was also witness to more bad Argentinean parenting, think mother over-feeding her child, letting her child bother all neighbors without shame, ignoring child much of the time, yelling at child regularly and pulling her by the arm the other times… I felt internally shaken every time that mother scolded her daughter. Ew. I then spent a bit of time in self-analysis, trying to release negative feelings that have accumulated, and just tried to relax. I feel anxiety over the most minor details and I would like to rid myself of that habit because it really doesn’t serve me in any positive fashion! Anxiety…do I go down and use the bus bathroom? Should I eat this bag of Lays that they gave me with my lunch even though they’re fatty and although I don’t have a weakness for potato chips, I do have a weakness for free food, so which should I listen to even though I know that the chips really do no good for me and rather add to that layer that has continued to hang around my mid-section? Am I going to arrive to my destination before sunset because if I do I think I’d like to try the cheaper, more adventurous route of taking the bus to my hostel, whereas there’s the much easier and more expensive option of paying a taxi to drive me right there which soothes me on the inside because I’m in a new place with all of my valuables and the weight of carrying all my things though it makes me wonder if I’m weak for not doing the cheaper more adventurous route and wouldn’t it be nice if I just had a traveling partner even though I love taking the actual trip (bus ride, plane ride) by myself? And then having to reconvince myself that I am doing absolutely the right thing by traveling alone and making myself stronger, though am I really stronger? Because sometimes I’m not sure that I am because to me it doesn’t feel like I’m taking steps, but rather like I’m rolling up a ramp that isn’t really very steep. I know on the other side, though, that if any of my friends were doing what I’m doing I would think them terribly brave and courageous! Sometimes I get so lost in the world of me that I have to try to see what I would think if someone else, and not me were doing the things that I do in order to get proper perspective. Sometimes I think I am the worst judge of myself that ever existed. Which is sad, because if I can’t give myself props, why should I ever expect anyone else to? I should be my own biggest cheerleader, and I should support myself when nobody else seems to, because if I can’t trust in myself, I can trust in no one. Do you think that coincides with the fact that I have major trust issues? Yikes…

I admit that while I sat in my Buenos Aires funk, I did very little journaling and self-analysis. Oh yeah, we all thought I was going to be full of blogging goodness, what with having wi-fi in my very own room and yet that didn’t happen. And why not? Tina was in a depressed little, “I don’t want to come out of my hole” kind of a funk! I have been quite the happy little Tina in much of my traveling, aside from the mini-crisis I had in Peru after going to Cusco with Soo where Peter and Jill both had to call me to do a bit of damage control. So here we have an interesting little divergence in thought—am I entitled to my funks and crises or should I be a little hard on myself for them? I mean, let’s take a look at this. I am far away—far away—from home, my people I have history and endless comfort with, I don’t have my own job or really any sort of regular schedule besides my Spanish classes (and I am a creature of both habit and comfort), I’m venturing to new places on a pretty constant basis and speaking a new language (you know how I love that, but you also know that I’m still get frustrated with myself for my misuses of the language)…I mean, I left my apartment and most of my human possessions, I sold my car, for goodness’ sake, my car that has literally been my symbol and vehicle of freedom and independence for the last eight years. I don’t plan on having a car again anytime in the near future and instead plan on partaking big-time in public transportation (and a bike!), but I long for that independence to go anywhere at any time at the drop of a hat, for that space where I can immerse myself with my music at any volume and sing and dance all by my beautiful self. Of all of my material things, the car is, I believe, the thing I miss most. I have been here for a good long time and just adapted, adjusted, not complained much for the lack of anything (other than time and space to be alone in order to reenergize!), and I have tried to just go with the flow but man, let me tell you that after settling down in that house all I could do was…I don’t know, not want to be there, or not want the other people to be there, or want Marcus to be there with me or to be able to see Peter and have a lazy day watching movies, eating horribly unhealthy and yet scrumptious food (pumpkin pie, I miss you!) and being our totally weird and wonderful selves in an ambience of total comfort. (I have certainly watched movies and eaten food that isn’t good for me, but it’s just not the same.) I guess what I’m saying, is that I have finally started getting homesick and there are, in fact, good and valid reasons for this feeling though perhaps I haven’t taken the time to find that these feelings actually make a lot of sense. I didn’t want to be around those people, I wanted to be around my people. This fact was compounded by the fact that my people in Buenos Aires first consisted of a “husband” who flaked out on me again and again and again, making me feel totally unvalued and angry at him for apparently not wanting to spend time with me and for not respecting my time. And then for not admitting that his actions and carelessness made that impact and instead getting mad at me for being cranky and therefore wanting to spend even less time with me. (Interestingly enough, we hung out on Thursday last week and I saw someone do to him exactly the same thing to him that he did to me—and he got pissed! Karma…thank you to karma for showing me that people really do reap what they sow, and now I don’t have to wonder at people such as this getting their own life lessons completely outside of me.) So there was that person, once upon my most important person in BA. Then there was Carlos who also stood me up (with a good reason, though he never responded to my attempt to hang out after the incident). And finally, Cami and Anthony, who I hang out with a few times per week, but who I don’t feel need me as much as I need them because they have each other while I have nobody, and I feel the need to leave them to their own space and time because I know that I need mine as well. Even though I would have loved to spend even more time with them. (Hopefully Bolivia plans to work out and we end up traveling up to the south of Peru together.) I’m used to having some sort of emotional cushion, someone I can call or meet up with when I’m in dire straits. It’s just not the same here. Straight up, it is not the same, communication is not convenient. Something blatantly evident in the lack of communication I have had from most of my world back home, but I don’t even want to get started on that subject except to say that my feeling of unvalued-ness increased significantly as a result of this, feeling as though I’m not important enough for friends to stay in touch—not a guilt trip, but a seriously sucky feeling felt by not only me but by the rest of my traveling friends as well. And I have to say, I’m pretty dang good at responding to my email!

Okay, so above we have some good reasons as to why I might be feeling down, and honestly I believe that we all really do have our downs. So why don’t I just leave it at that and be done with it? Well, I don’t particularly like feeling down, ya know, it would be kind of counterintuitive if I did. I am a solution-oriented person, I don’t like leaving myself in whatever kind of negative situation I happen to be in, I usually try to look for an exit strategy or a way to overcome the situation. That makes more sense to me. Why are we confronted by difficult experiences? Why, to grow, of course! To learn how to become better, stronger people. So. What is the solution to this problem? I’m not sure that I found one or if I did it’s hidden somewhere in the sub-conscious that runs on auto-drive, where I just automatically make those decisions I believe are best without having to think about it. Is that how I/we function normally anyway? Do I really have to consciously think about each and every action I make or can I just trust that I’m doing the best I can? There we are, back at self-trust…Damn. Or maybe good. Maybe I’ve pin-pointed a problem and maybe this is one of those areas where I really need to put in a concerted effort to grow. Honestly…I think so. Wherever did I learn to mistrust myself? Well, sometimes I am wrong and sometimes I do forget, but usually not with anything that really makes a big difference. I think that I make some pretty good decisions. I’m a quick thinker, I’m logical while having a lot of feelings, I’m organized and observant. In fact overall I think I’m a pretty dang incredible person. I like me a lot, dare I even say, I love me! Which brings us back to where this mistrust of self came from. I think it’s mostly preemptive behavior, as though I am horribly fearful of making some sort of misstep in the future. I believe it also has something to do with how I perceive myself as being viewed by others, as though their judgment matters, but seriously I give such credibility to other peoples’ opinions and thoughts in my efforts to be open-minded that I often let their opinions and thoughts cloud and overpower my own, as if for some reason theirs have more weight than my own. But I am me, and this is my life and my opinion is the one that matters the most! I might be wrong, but you know what? If I am, I should just learn to go with it and let myself be proved wrong instead of self-doubting all of the time. I don’t tend to be arrogant or pushy with my opinions (unless in jest when the opinion I posit I know to be silly), so I should stop worrying about what other people are going to think about what’s going on inside my head or about what I do. Like right at this instant—I am sitting at my new hostel in Mar del Plata, I arrived about three hours ago and although I gave friendly greetings to bystanders on my way in and to my room, I have remained in my room for the entirety of my time. My thoughts? That they’re wondering why I haven’t come out of my room yet, that they’re wondering what that new girl is up to, that they’re thinking that I’m being anti-social. First of all—who really cares what they think? (Although at this point we recognize the obvious answer to that—I do, I for some reason do care what people think about me.) Secondly, why would they even care to give that much thought to this random passer-through that just entered their domain? Do I really think that I matter all that much to these random strangers? I mean, maybe I should worry if those people closest to me start seeing some negative changes or something occurring in me, but these people? These people who have but the briefest of brief contacts with my life…maybe it’s that I worry about peoples’ feelings. But how could I possibly hurt their feelings just by staying in my room or not making contact with them? Furthermore, if that did hurt their feelings, wouldn’t they be the ones that needed some emotional growth rather than me? Why would I even begin to hold myself responsible for their emotional well-being? Why do I worry more about the emotional well-being of others than my own??? Does this have something to do with my place in my family as second youngest? Or third youngest? At being raised in a family of forceful personalities? Is this habit due to having personally been emotionally hurt and therefore trying to not inflict the same on others? That would certainly make sense, although any particular instances or examples of this does not come to mind. There must be something…come on, dig, Tina, dig! Does it have anything to do with the fact that I spent a good 8-10 years of my life trying to live with my mom? Because I put so much hope and energy into that endeavor, being told (on one side) that if I continued to put my energies into that desire that I would be able to have that long sought after dream? While being told on the other side that if I continued with these efforts I would be put in a foster home, that I would be taken away from both parents and would never be able to see my family again? To be told that I didn’t know what was best for me. (Although it would be silly for me to still be angry about that, because that’s certainly what all parents say, and they probably think that they’re doing the right thing. Wasn’t I at least lucky to have one parent that listened to me?! That being said, I appreciate my life because it resulted in my being the way I am and I happen to appreciate how those obstacles made me stronger in character.) I definitely have one parental figure who has an “I’m right, you’re wrong” complex and I still suffer from consequences of that, most definitely. When people bring up that kind of attitude, when I’m in a conversation with them verbally I stutter to a halt, thinking (knowing?) that nothing I say or do is going to change that person’s point of view, and not wanting to change that person’s point of view because that’s exactly what they’re trying to do to me and I do not want to be like that person (although I fear that I am), so I will refuse to do to them what they are doing. (Does this explain to you why I communicate better through writing than in conversation? Space from someone that can contradict me for starters? The space to really formulate words and thoughts instead of letting my train of thought getting carried away with the other person? This having resulted in this journaling habit…) All I really want is for people to have some respect for my opinion while I respect theirs and for us to all just live in our happy little worlds, respecting one another even if our opinions are different, instead of condemning the other person and instilling guilt and fear because our opinions differ. Emotional terrorism!!! Ha, interesting idea, that one. I believe that that’s a lot of what my memories of certain Mormons reminds me of, although that’s just my personal experience because I’ve also had the same experience with many other Christians. Why do people have to insist (especially when it comes to religion and further on to how we generally live our own lives) that they are right and that others are wrong? Do religious fanatics realize how many religious people are on this earth believing that they are right and that everyone else is wrong? If there are 6 billion+ people on this earth, we can say there’s a more or less finite number of possible beliefs that exist, each one probably a little bit different than the next because let’s face it, within each religion, there are variations. In Mormonism for example there are people who believe they don’t have to wear garments, or that maybe caffeine is okay to drink sometimes—and ooh minor rant on a particular annoyance I have with people who will drink caffeinated soft drinks and look down on others for drinking coffee!—while others think it’s okay to swear or listen to angry music…I mean, there are endless little variations, despite the rigidness of any given religion. Let’s assume that even one of them is right (which I don’t particularly believe in, either)—then every other person on this earth is wrong, while thinking that they’re right! How can someone be so arrogant as to say that I’m right and you’re wrong? To me, that just takes a lot of balls! Cool, I like that you have a belief system, so do I. But as I am entitling you to live the way you believe is right, please let me live the way I believe to be right. Especially because it doesn’t have an effect on you! Okay, if I am endangering the earth with the car I drive or the amount of garbage I use or by not recycling, I can see being scolded for something like that. But for something faith-based? Something that’s not tangible or visible? Yup, definitely have some problems with that. If you don’t like me and the way I live my life, you’re not obligated to keep me in your life. We don’t have to be friends, it’s simple. But why can’t we at least respect one another? I bet we have a lot more in common than we might think, and I think we can get along and have a fabulous time outside of this whole “judging each other” thing. Something I also am guilty of, but something I at least try to improve upon.

Whoo! That was a lot of analysis, don’t you think? Now, what do you think—will that expulsion of words actually help me to value my own opinion a bit more and to worry less about what people think about me? Maybe worry a little bit more about myself? Hmm, I surely hope so.