Aspiration

After the self-flagellation of my last blog, I’m going back to my sentimental, slightly superficial and silly style of blogging.

I want to write about my Gulu friends, who I adore. On Friday, my good friends Erin and her husband Scott hosted a costume party for her birthday, entitled “Who did you want to be when you grew up?” The only instruction given was that we could not show up as snarky disgruntled aid workers. After much fretting about choices, costume potential and suggestions from others (Princess Leia, Jane Fonda, etc) I settled on Daisy Duke. I should add a sheepish caveat to protect my inner Vassar girl, but I suspect I’m not the only smart, angry post-fem gal who liked Daisy. She was hot and very very nice. Besides, she just edged out my other perhaps more obvious fem hero, Wonder Woman, because nude tights and red boots were simply too much costume preparation.

This got me thinking though that while I loved these two ladies (and donned their Underoos with energy and pride as a kid), I don’t know that I imagined myself as them when I grew up or just liked to pretend to be them in the moment. Then I started to panic, because I really couldn’t remember wanting to be anything when I grew up. Perhaps I was in the now as a child. I cannot recall wanting to be a brain surgeon (in Jeanne’s case), a gas pumper (in Hayden’s case, despite protests from his cousins that he would not make enough money), a rock star (Coy) or a sea princess (in Erin’s wonderful, fantastical case.)

As I sit at my desk in Gulu pondering my next move and semi-urgently scan the internet for jobs, I’m really not sure where I’m headed. Part of me wants to shift gears dramatically and start a bead business and help Emily’s mom and the gang create something more sustainable. Part of me wants to take up Erin Baines’ offer of a few months as a fellow at UBC, sheltered from distraction in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, and finally write something a little more substantial than a blog. Part of me wants to find the perfect career step up - as I imagine it now – a mix of project management and administrative responsibility that sees me headed to the field but based in the States. Part of me wants to chill and not have a next move yet. Part of me wants something that seems impossible to obtain…

The fact is that I have no idea what's next for me. I’m not even sure where the heck I’m going to stick my dog when I get home. Will Maggie and the cats cede some temporary space for him at 3 North Drive or will Jeter and I be hanging at the Motel 6 on Route 18?? While it feels a bit late to ask the question, “what do I want to be when I grow up?” I wonder if there is ever a point at which one knows the answer to that question. Is that what life’s like these days...or is it just me?

I really love my friends in Gulu. When I was at a wedding in Houston in May, a woman who spent her whole life in Iowa asked me if I had any friends. I looked at her in surprise, but then saw it from her perspective of ancient friendships developed over years. Indeed there is some sacrifice to the pace of friendships here in Gulu, but I think the sincerity of friendships remains the same. On Saturday, hungover and craving bacon, Mollie and I set off after dark to the evening vegetable stalls in the center of Gulu to find some veggies to make us feel less guilty about the bacon. I had never been there after dark before. I turned to Mollie and said “I’m having fun.” She seemed confused, perhaps because she didn’t hear me or perhaps because I don’t usually utter such happy phrases. I explained that it was cool to be walking with her in a funky evening market, surrounded by Africa.

The best costume of the night went to our resident laugh track, Amy, who came impeccably dressed as Hulk Hogan. An honorable mention goes to Mollie as a gold medal ice skater. She had very convincing hair and posture. We sort of have a post-tequila pact not to post pictures online, but I figure the ones below are ok, because they were pre-tequila.