Rarita

Am I weird?

Sometimes when I think about my thoughts, I think I'm kind of messed up. If people knew what goes on in my brain, I'd be scared for them. Not that I'm schitofrenic (?) or anything, I'm not suicidal or homicidal, in fact, my thoughts are more about helping people. When I talk to myself in my head, it's usually in spanish. About half my dreams are in spanish. Sometimes in dreams, people who don't speak spanish are even speaking spanish. Everytime I imagine what I will be like or where I will be in the future, why am I in Honduras and not Mexico? It just seems logical that in several years I'll have a home (I can even tell you exactly where!) in Germania Tegucigalpa Honduras. I want it to be across the street from the Delgados, down the hill past the charismatic church, but before the alley road. Where the horses are now. Maybe it is because this is what I know. I'm familiar with Central America. I guess it's just like when I was in Europe and I imagined going home, I thought of my old house, the one we had moved out of two weeks before I went to Europe. I thought of that as the house I'd go back to because it was what I knew. En route to Mexico in 1997, I pictured that things would be just like in Puerto Barrios Guatemala, since that's what I knew of LatinAmerica. Well, Tecate Mexico and P.B. Guatemala are worlds apart! So maybe that's why I think of Tegus as being my future. Because I can't see myslef living in the States for the rest of my life, and Tegus is what I'm most familiar with. It's the only city besides Salem, Redding, and Portland that I can find my way to most places that I need to go. I even know bus drivers in Tegus - Rodolfo (aka Ceijas) I know because we rented his bus services for a short term team, and then the "mariposa" bus with the two enamored males who drive. The tall light skinned guy with black curly hair in the ciber cafe in Loarque know me, he even remembered me from a year before! If the immigration officials ever needed to find me, it would be easy. All they's have to do is go to Germania, stop at most any house up the hill from the escuela, and ask where the gringa lives. Everyone knows because everyone knows my family. Although, I don't know if I'd always WANT immigration to be able to find me...

So that is what I think. All the time. But lately, I figure, even if I am weird, I'm not alone. I read several other peoples' blogs - people that I know - and they are just as weird as me. Maybe in different ways, but weird none the less! Who's blogs have I been reading? The world will never know!