This Goodbye Town

I have been in Spokane for seven months now. I now understand why the people who had taken a semester off at home said, "Oh man, taking a leave of absence? Let me know if you need to talk."

There really is something to be said about this surreal period of time because no, Kid After Dentist, this is not real life. At least, my personal experience wasn't. I could get lost in all the negative things that happened, all the things I don't understand, but everything happens for a reason, and I'm going to focus on what I've learned and what has changed me for the better.

I'd like to think that I am a nonjudgmental person. I have my own opinions, but I try to respect other people's choices, even if it doesn't seem like I am. Honestly. I swear! Seriously, guys! But, I have usually been in a "position to judge" since I am a chronic over-achiever. School, adventure, fun times... I was never the type to sit back and just kinda let life happen. I'm a go-getter. Proactive. Obnoxious. Whatever you may call it. That being said, I have judged myself a lot these past few months. I always swore to get out of this place, get out of my parent's house ASAP, be as financially independent as possible. I worked multiple jobs my freshman year and was so proud to never have asked home for money. Now, here I was at home, using my dad's money, stuck in my nostalgia, being generally unproductive, and underachieving. I had plenty of reasons why I was in my situation, but I'm still trying to decide which were reasons and which were excuses.

I've felt a little bit of this judgment from my peers as well. Some of it came as concern, some as doubt, some as skepticism, a majority was well-intentioned, but I could sense the undertone of "What are you doing here? Why are you wasting your time?"And it stung because my answer was "I have no frickin' clue. I am unhappy. I am not being myself. I should be doing something about that." But what I kept saying was "My mom is sick, I'm taking care of her,"because no one really can argue with that. Again, I'm still trying to decide how much of that actually affected my decision-making process.

I felt like I needed to logically, productively, constantly legitimize that I was stuck physically, emotionally, mentally. Having felt that kind of judgment, I would really like to never be responsible for making someone else feel like they need to give a reason for not being in the best place. Because sometimes you are just temporarily paralyzed. And after a year of moving really fast, experiencing big events, leaping first then looking later, sometimes it's nice to be stuck, to have an excuse to slow down. Like way down. Okay, maybe there was a little backward movement on my part.

I'm a big believer in managing your own destiny, but sometimes, life puts you on your ass or flat on your face, and it takes a bit to get your bearings again before you can stand up and move on. Of course, the important thing is to take the reins as soon as you can and charge forward, a little sore but wiser (mixed metaphors ftw). But even when I was ready to travel on, I didn't really have anywhere to go yet, so I was in a multiple month layover to get on a different flight (another one! I am on a roll!).

ANYWAY

I'm excited to get back to my real life. I mean, I'm not going to instantaneously forget the connections I've made this past year because they were meaningful and I owe them a lot, but as far as I'm concerned, Spokane is a "goodbye town" now. There's really nothing to keep drawing me back here (unfortunately?), so it's time for this merry wanderer to pull up her boots and keep marching. I can't wait.

Confessions from a Grocery Snob

My name is Janni Sun, and I am a Pretentious Grocery Shopper. 

When I'm perusing the produce section, inspecting the items, I occasionally sense the poor store employee stocking the celery turning toward me to give the customary "How are you finding everything today?" only to change their mind and instead avoid eye contact. Do I look like a street hoodlum? Violent thug? Perhaps. I did just recently chop off most of my hair. No, it's more likely that I am in GROCERY BITCH MODE.

Sometimes, I catch myself in an an expression best described as:

faire la moue [French]: to slightly pout one's lips to express discontent. (sometimes shortened to "moue")

Like so.

I believe I was introduced to this phrase by Celine, the French exchange student at Rhodes, a fabulous, gorgeous, Parisian that perfected the look that says, "Well, that's... well."

I can't help it. Since my shopping-cart-sitting days, my father, the agriculturist, has been imparting the secrets of selecting the best food:

"If the stem or pip is still there, that means it's fresh."
"Look for the one that is more round on the end, that means it ripened on the vine."
"Check the bottom. Look at the edges. It's not in season."

I try to apply all of these tasty wisdom nuggets, but unfortunately the side effect is that I deliberate twice as long as the average shopper with this "moue" on my face, evoking thunderclouds and probably scaring small children. I will tap every 15 lb. watermelon until I find one that resonates perfect crispiness. I'll rake through the beans and only select the most tender and fresh. Each peach must be checked for the stem and tested for firmness before I select it. I am that girl.

So I apologize to anyone who runs into me at the grocery store. I promise I'm not judging you, just the freshness of this tomato.