I accepted my LVC placement - to work in an emergency feeding program. I will work on networking, outreach, keeping in contact with donors and writing grants. I will be living in Seattle, WA. When I first found out I was placed, I was kinda devastated. I wanted a Minneapolis placement. But, I think this work will be extremely important and I can incorporate things that I excel at (such as writing).
Seattle. I can’t believe it. Maybe this will be my silver lining.
I’m feeling strange. At home, everything seems to be falling into place. My friends are doing well, I’m happy for them, and I feel comfortable around them. My mom and I cook dinner and hang out during the day. My sister and father, we can hang out and talk. My room is the most comfortable haven I have ever had: surrounded by books, constantly a cat at the foot of my bed, and sunshine wakes me up every morning. I love my new room set up. I’m pretty sure I know what I’m doing next year. I’m pretty sure I want to commit my life to writing. I’m pretty sure I need to travel through out my life and perhaps incorporate writing.
But, then I have this tension in me. Like any great work of writing - there are forces working against each other. I feel a breaking apart, a split, and I am scared. I’m breaking from college. I know some relationships I wont be able to maintain. I know in four years I will have that flash of a memory when I used to consider someone a good friend. And this scares me. It scares me to know I will forget memories and moments. I’m not scared of time. But, I’m nervous when I think about individual relationships. Things that will seem small in years to come, but were (and currently are) major parts of my life (as I know it).
Gang violence is still real. It’s amazing how I can learn from facebook that student I went to high school with died from gang violence. I can see all his friend’s reactions and posts to his wall, wishing he wasn’t dead. People post high school photos and I recognize him and his (wife, girl friend?) I feel both saddened by it (reading her statuses and unable to imagine that kind of loss) and like I’m reading something I’m not supposed to read. Something I am not supposed to know. Someone’s former life I wasn’t ever in on.
I jokingly tell my friends at school that we had PSAs and in school assemblies about gang violence. I joked about the two main gangs at my school (as well as some of the more well known ones that had branches in my town) but I never thought it was real. I never thought these things actually affect people I went to school with. These things aren’t connected to me because I am upper middle class, white, a daughter of two college graduates, unaffiliated with any kind of organized violence. But, it’s realer than I thought and so many of my friend’s facebook statuses are expressions of mourning. Expressing themselves through the safety of facebook. Expressing themselves in the realest ways we know how (in our digital age).