Play, don’t die.

I recently read an article arguing that, in Japan, obentos (lunch boxes, particularly in nursery schools) serve as ideological state apparatuses. In her discussion of the time-intensive labour that mothers devote to the production of these delicately prepared meals, the author aptly mentions the concept of play and how that figures into the creative approach that one may take towards work.
Perhaps I am being overly critical here, or perhaps it’s just a reflection of my current state of mind (sleep-deprived, allergy-ridden, blurry-eyed and numb), but I do feel as though I have lost a sense of enjoyment of/for life and have forgotten the concept of play. Everything appears far too serious now, or at least I am thinking about the implications of my actions and inactions at every waking and lucid dreaming moment. I am sorry to say that, as others have probably perceived, I am becoming more android-like with only current bursts of human expression to indicate that yes, I am indeed alive. Or I’ll put a little somethin’ somethin’ on for certain shows, such as team/work meetings or temporary social gatherings, which leave me exhausted and directionless after the fact. Not going anywhere. Not going anywhere. Lackluster is apt.
Where am I going? Firstly, where am I?

Eleni, on the topic of listening to the adventures of her siblings:

where my sister went with three close friends, and the four of them shoe-string backpacked it around costa rica and then took random in-the-back-of-pickup-truck rides across the boarder to Panama and then lived on this boat for a while with some fisherman who was renting out the sleeping quarters and some local kid taught them how to surf... or when my brother was in Hong Kong and ended up at a local rave where they play village people remixes sped up in giant star-trek esque metal tubed warehouses and lived with a guy from south africa for a while in Taiwan, and the various adventures ensued…

He’s going to S. Africa, she’s going to N. Africa, she’s going to France and hiking the Alps, they’re all going on internships in metropolises, she’s already there. Missions trips, field school, work, internship, volunteerism, NGO, vacation, adventure, travel.
The concept of NOW – no opportunity wasted – is too heavy for me. Every season and transitional period has to be planned out, yet nothing is ever a guarantee. Slowly and quickly, I am discovering more about life.
This is all to say that I do not know what I will be doing or where I will be in the summer. Last year at that time, I was working and taking summer courses before traveling from Thailand through SW China up to Tibet and then down to S Thailand before returning for work and school. Certainly a full summer, a tiring summer, a summer well spent, I believe.
I am restless and I want to attach myself to something with meat and meaning, with flesh on bones. Selfish? Of course, but necessarily so. I don’t think I have invested enough into how I have allowed myself to be shaped by others, how I have freed myself from various chains, how I have closed and opened and ignored so many doors. Thus we see that I figures centrally in the discussion of who I am.
I’ve been looking at the Himalayan Health Exchange as well as the Aang Serian Summer School in Tanzania as options for field school, on top of exploring the AAA site. I feel as though I have become too accustomed to things just happening for me, for connections to work themselves out in order for me to be the passive receiver of blessings. Once the scholarship funding ends… what will there be? It has become almost an automatic expectation for someone out there to provide me with what I need to engage in the opportunities that I seek. Work over the past years has given me something to work with, but how and where do I invest it? Now, without contact with my parents who I always turn to for advice and knowledge and with a million things to consider I have been struck with the weight of my potential decisions. I am considering summer courses, last semester courses, thesis advisor, thesis topic [medical anthropology: the Chinese Diaspora, health, and race, or linguistic anthropology: the Presbyterian Church in Kenya and oral tradition?], internships, field schools, grad school, GRE exams, , money, museum work, continuing my current job, the apartment, roommates, family and home. I am questioning plans that I had previously envisioned as certain and secure. This doubt arises from life experience, from the realization of physical and mental limitations. Going somewhere doesn’t mean anything, because “somewhere” surrounds me and I intersect it everyday.
I miss being able to talk – about it, about you, about myself, about us. I’m just not there anymore.