I just finished reading a blog written by a young woman who lives and works in East Africa, interviewing and processing refugees in the refugee camps (she's the front end of refugee resettlement, and I'm the back end of refugee resettlement). I really enjoyed reading her blog and hearing the foreign and fun tidbits about her life overseas. I remember my days living overseas. I wrote in my blog almost every day. It was an adventure. It was hard. I have no illusions about what it's like to live overseas, and I don't often long to do it again, even after reading that blog. I do think that I'd like to live overseas again someday, but I don't know under what circumstances I would be willing to do it.
Plus, who needs to live abroad when your job makes you feel like you live abroad sometimes? Today I visited with a refugee client of our that was resettled in July. Sure the home was "American-like" in its construction, but they all sat on the floor, and they had one bedroom with a stripped bed, and another room where they all actually sleep (on the floor). So I see plenty of foreign things here. And there's plenty of awkward moments where you can't communicate well, or you don't know if the other person speaks English or not, so you just say a few works and hope they respond.
The job has been continuously improving the past month. I did not blog during the many months of nightmarish existence that work put upon me, and parts of me is glad I did not document it. Yes, I do like to write about stuff in my life so I can remember it better years down the line, but I just don't think that was the case July to early October.
Thanksgiving was nice around here. I had a few low key, relaxing days, bopping around town with Kurt and friends, and hanging around my apartment. The stomach flu interrupted those lovely days of bopping around. Early Saturday morning. I was awoken at about 3am that morning feeling sick, and went back and forth between toilet, bathroom floor, and bed, until it culminated into me retching at 5:30. Heavens, I hate doing that. Kurt says I have a phobia. I slowly felt better after that, and was back on my feet and eating fast food on Sunday.
I look forward to going to Michigan for the weekend before Christmas. I look forward to Kurt starting his job. I look forward to things now. It's nice.