Considering maybe possibly thinking about packing... tomorrow?

Okay folks, it is officially crunch time. A little more than two weeks before I leave!

My delightful road trip with Chloe to go visit Sarah (and the disappointingly wimpy Irene) came to an end, and real life started up again. I came home to find that my health insurance would not, in fact, cover the malaria medication for which I received a prescription (an increased cost of, say, a mere $500). You'll be glad to hear that after only a few stressful and confusing phone calls later, the matter is mostly sorted out. I also have a second line of defense: treating my clothes with permethrin, an insecticide.



Now, I am looking to all of the other details of preparing to live on another continent for six months. Details such as having finding space to pack a six month supply of pads/tampons (apparently very expensive in Senegal) and condoms (my dad didn't laugh when I told him this meant I needed to take 600 condoms). All of these preparations for Senegal are adding up to a considerable price tag. Tonight, my mom told me I would probably need to purchase my OWN luggage. Can you say byebyepaycheck, and hello grown-up swag? :)



While not astronomical, these unforeseen costs have made me anxious. I don't want to add any more to my family's financial burden. And, thinking back to this time last year when I was wrapping up a life-changing month of LandSea, I left feeling completely satisfied and content with the the pack on my back and the gear it carried. Now, I am sad to realize I have so much energy tied to these material possessions. Shopping lists, budgets, camera charger hunt, blahblahblah, soul-sucking capitalism, you know what I'm talking about.

Come on, man. Can't we just live on the food we find, the clothes we're wearing, and the people we love? Just kidding. But really...

Frustration is...

spending the majority of daylight hours inside a small room with fluorescent lighting and one other person to keep me company.

working these monotonous days in the hope that I am making some small contribution to improving health outcomes for children on Medicaid, but suspecting that this group of people needs a frontal lobotomy to prevent their egos from sabotaging each attempt to collaborate.

sitting in a single meeting with twenty people at the table, and listening to twenty different conversations happening at the same time.

finding coffee drips all over my bright yellow shirt. I SWEAR I MUST HAVE A HOLE IN MY LOWER LIP.

feeling antsy, but having nowhere to go.

today.

"without struggle, there is no progress."

As I prepare to leave the country for six months, this quote serves as a reminder to myself that, yes, it will be difficult to say goodbye to my loved ones. Yes, it's always painful to miss Christmas at home. Yes, communication will be a daily struggle. I hope that facing some of these challenges will result in personal growth and an altered world perspective, just as the struggle to hike to the top of each peak in Killarney Park reaped the joys of self-satisfaction and a breathtaking view (pictured above).

The Hypochondriac

I have had the delight of getting to know the Hypochondriac this summer; we lived together as suite mates for about five short weeks.  This girl is the epitome of a do-gooder.  After a day of weeding, she would rant to the Spaz and I, "Who decides which plants are better than others?  Who are we to play God?!  I felt so bad for the plants as I was weeding them..." On another occasion, she reached an epiphany that most hygiene products contain sulfates, and had the other two suite mates and herself frantically reading labels on the bottles in our shower.  By the end of the whole ordeal, she had convinced all of us that if we didn't already have cancer, we would soon.

Her seemingly crippling sensitivity to others' needs and soft Guatemalan accent create a first impression of a gentle, somewhat sheltered, and shy girl.  She is quiet sometimes, but it is her sharp wit, unfailing kindness and generosity, street smarts, enduring idealism, and infectious laughter that her friends know her by.

I cannot remember the context, but she is the one who inspired the title of this blog.  She loved the saying "pee a little", and was the one who explained its meaning to me.

As far as I understand, "pee a little" can have a few different meanings.  It can be a reminder to loosen up, just relax, accept the unavoidable imperfection of ourselves and the world we live in, or, my personal favorite, to erupt in laughter so passionately that one has no choice but to, well, pee a little.  Peeing in and of itself is not a desirable outcome.  It's the rare circumstance when something strikes you as so damn hilarious that, for one fleeting moment, you completely forget to breathe compose yourself.  The feeling of warm moisture brings you crashing back to reality, with an undeniable wet spot on your underwear as a kind of souvenir that "yes, you blithering idiot, you laughed so hard you actually forgot to hold your piss in".

As I embark on my travels in Senegal, I think if I remember to pee a little, I will "learn things I never knew I never knew" to quote the famous Disney Princess Pocahontas. Thank you, Hypochondriac, for helping me set the tone for the next seven months of my life, making reminding me to pee a little, and for all of the great memories of this past summer.