I have definitely found myself a Sunday routine while in grad school. I get up, go to my fave coffee shop, Hooked on Colfax, pull out the piles of work I have to do, and spend my time catching up on blogs and wasting time. Although the table, chai and atmosphere are better than trying to read in my bed, I am not sure this hipster scene is conducive to reading about the history of rhetoric. However, it has been helpful to have a place to reflect without the disruption of cats.
I am quickly approaching being at home as long as I was away--which is always the hardest part of being in transit. It is finally the realization that yes, I do live here, and this is what my real life is. It makes me miss where I have come from--this time Gulu--even more. Although I can get Pineapple Fanta at my local Avanza, I can't get the burning trash smell or the red dust filling my lungs as I hold on to the back of a boda. In the past few weeks, I have teetered over some major decisions, or rather desires. Currently, on the two year plan that I seem to always extend, I am happy with what I am doing. But what do I do if say, the Communications Officer for ICU opens up? I debated for an entire day if I should apply, but then spent the next day with three of my students at a Karen wrist tying ceremony. For what it's worth, I still have work to do here and haven't decided what I want to do when that work is finished. I am trying to wrap my mind around everything I have learned this summer and how it has changed me. I feel like I have more of a focus in everything I do. Critical thought and humanitarian aid are always seem to be connected to everything I am learning and teaching. But how can I really make others see it, if I don't know exactly what it looks like? I guess this is why I have my Sundays to think about it, with small breaks of rhetorical theory.
I am quickly approaching being at home as long as I was away--which is always the hardest part of being in transit. It is finally the realization that yes, I do live here, and this is what my real life is. It makes me miss where I have come from--this time Gulu--even more. Although I can get Pineapple Fanta at my local Avanza, I can't get the burning trash smell or the red dust filling my lungs as I hold on to the back of a boda. In the past few weeks, I have teetered over some major decisions, or rather desires. Currently, on the two year plan that I seem to always extend, I am happy with what I am doing. But what do I do if say, the Communications Officer for ICU opens up? I debated for an entire day if I should apply, but then spent the next day with three of my students at a Karen wrist tying ceremony. For what it's worth, I still have work to do here and haven't decided what I want to do when that work is finished. I am trying to wrap my mind around everything I have learned this summer and how it has changed me. I feel like I have more of a focus in everything I do. Critical thought and humanitarian aid are always seem to be connected to everything I am learning and teaching. But how can I really make others see it, if I don't know exactly what it looks like? I guess this is why I have my Sundays to think about it, with small breaks of rhetorical theory.
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