Today is my first day off since I started teaching. It's a nice quiet Sunday afternoon, and I am sitting at my computer trying to balance my desire to relax with this desire to do, do, do. A nice, warm breeze is blowing across the mountains and into my living living room, causing the paper lamp hanging from the ceiling to swing and spin around like crazy. I sympathize with that lamp right now. I think I know how it feels. Some kind of energy is pushing me too, urging me to move, but I feel something else is keeping me stuck, attached and unable to let the wind carry me. So here we are this Sunday afternoon, my paper lamp and I, spinning nervous circles around the living room.
I got up early this morning, did most of my shopping (I will have to go back out for the soy milk after the siesta, which unlike in Spain, could last 4 hours or more). I bought some office supplies to organize my teaching materials, a half kilo of mixed nuts, and then made myself a nice lunch at home. Like most days, I watched the Simpsons while I ate. That's another strange connection between my time in Morocco and my time in Spain: lunch and the Simpsons. After lunch I got online to find some information about Tetouan. I need some hobbies. I would be perfectly happy with just learning Arabic as my hobby, but I want to do more. I want an art class and some form of exercise. I want to go see movies at the Cervantes Institute and volunteer with an educational organization for women. I want multiple language partners. But it's never easy starting out. It's always more comfortable to stay at home with a good book and to not venture out of the safe zone you create. Last night I went for a walk with my roommate, Mary. We started down a street and, after walking in one direction for some time, I instinctively turned and headed down another street. Later on, Mary and I found ourselves back at the point where we had started. "What's in that direction?" Mary said, pointing further down the road where I had instinctively decided to turn. "I don't know," I replied. "I've never gone that way. I always turn before I go too far."
It was then I realized what I was doing. I was staying in my comfort zone, turning my back on the unknown, refusing to take a few steps more and maybe, possibly discover something I liked. So instead, I walked in circles. I retraced my steps and always returned to the point where I had started. But what's the point in that? What's the point in doing something if it's not going to change anything, if your not going to learn or grow from it? If that's the case then you're better off staying at home, in bed, where the only thing that will change are the sheets!
Mary and I took off into the direction of the unknown, and didn't come home until out feet hurt.
I got up early this morning, did most of my shopping (I will have to go back out for the soy milk after the siesta, which unlike in Spain, could last 4 hours or more). I bought some office supplies to organize my teaching materials, a half kilo of mixed nuts, and then made myself a nice lunch at home. Like most days, I watched the Simpsons while I ate. That's another strange connection between my time in Morocco and my time in Spain: lunch and the Simpsons. After lunch I got online to find some information about Tetouan. I need some hobbies. I would be perfectly happy with just learning Arabic as my hobby, but I want to do more. I want an art class and some form of exercise. I want to go see movies at the Cervantes Institute and volunteer with an educational organization for women. I want multiple language partners. But it's never easy starting out. It's always more comfortable to stay at home with a good book and to not venture out of the safe zone you create. Last night I went for a walk with my roommate, Mary. We started down a street and, after walking in one direction for some time, I instinctively turned and headed down another street. Later on, Mary and I found ourselves back at the point where we had started. "What's in that direction?" Mary said, pointing further down the road where I had instinctively decided to turn. "I don't know," I replied. "I've never gone that way. I always turn before I go too far."
It was then I realized what I was doing. I was staying in my comfort zone, turning my back on the unknown, refusing to take a few steps more and maybe, possibly discover something I liked. So instead, I walked in circles. I retraced my steps and always returned to the point where I had started. But what's the point in that? What's the point in doing something if it's not going to change anything, if your not going to learn or grow from it? If that's the case then you're better off staying at home, in bed, where the only thing that will change are the sheets!
Mary and I took off into the direction of the unknown, and didn't come home until out feet hurt.
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