Se la pica - The High Life

The subject line is a phrase that you'll only find in Salvadoran slang. I don't know why I chose it, maybe I will by the end of this.

I think I have been putting off writing something new because of last weekend and because of the funk that I am in now.

I left Thursday afternoon for NYC and got back to El Salvador, the place that I called home before I left, on Monday morning. My flight was at 4am. I don't know if this is home right now to me.

Tuesday - the first day that I could think after getting some sleep - felt like the first day all over again as I walked to classes at the UCA and tried to catch up with my amig@s. This weekend was praxis weekend here, a weekend where everyone except for myself and Anne (who was sick) stayed at their praxis sites.

In Jayaque, there was a dance on Friday night, which was more like an outdoor club. And it was right in front of Julio's house. Roe, Colin, and Ryan told me that the house was shaking as soon as the clock struck 9. Things were falling off the shelves and as they opened the door, they saw a huge array of disco balls and lights and a community of people who immediately turned around to gawk at the gringos. Like a magic door. Saturday they spent at other houses in the community, walking around and collecting fruit, hiking, learning. Sunday they came home. And this is all I know. How do I feel about that? Ok.

I did something great this weekend, I grew with my family. I said goodbye to my inspiration, my Grandmother. It was a difficult weekend, but somewhere during the time that we were gathered at the cemetery - among the words shared, the bagpipe music played (Danny Boy and Amazing Grace) - there was a moment of peace that came over me. I just looked around at the day and could not help but just be okay.

And I went ice skating. I know thats a change of pace from the previous paragraph, but it was amazing to just be out there with the family on the lake behind her house in our dress clothes and be ridiculous.

I guess this funk that I can't explain is the one that I think we all feel from time to time. Just a loss of emotions and words. I'll be alright though.

Sociology and I had a breakthrough today. The topic began on that of our true self. Does it exist? A few words:

• We are constantly changing. It is natural for humans to never be satisfied, thus we are changing from day to day, minute to minute. A true self is a static identity. If it exists, we have reached the end. Can our life go on without a search?
• We learn what ourself is or trueself is by language. We use this language to build a sense of meaning for ourselves. We did not build this language. Whatever we think we are is built with a language that we did not build.
• Without language, we wouldn't me talking about identity.
• When we are given a theory, reality has changed. Then we're stuck in a theory.
• How do I know who I am? Because I have my memories. But something may happen in the next 5 minutes that changes these memories and they may get into a totally different light.

Yeah.

So it is pupusa night so I must be going to get my dose of lard and beans and cheese. I'm ok with the beans and cheese. Se la pica.