In school, I would wait until the night before to write a 20 page research paper. Unfortunately, I could get away with it. Finally, I realized that in an entirely illogical way, I was trying to keep the next day from arriving. So, I started saying, ‘Tuesday is going to get here no matter what I do, so I might as well prepare.’ Literally. Whenever I caught myself putting assignments off, I would stop and talk to myself. Usually it worked, and I started working on projects in advance.
Until I started teaching, when most nights I had the damnedest time making myself go to bed. I would stay up until 2:00, 3:00, sometimes 4:00 in the morning. I had to get up at 5:30, so this really made no sense. Except, I was, again, trying to stop time. Trying to keep from having to go to a job where I had no support from my administration, no help from my mentor, insufficient resources and unnecessary rules.
Only, of course, it still didn’t work.
As much as I wanted to be a witch when I was in Jr. High (hell, I still think it’d be cool). I. Can’t. Stop. Time. Or move things with my will, but that’s not really pertinent.
And last night, I did it again. I stayed up late screwing around on the interwebs before doing the work I knew I needed to do before going to bed. The truth is, I was nervous about my Big Border Crossing Day. I tend to let my nerves run high, worrying about things that haven’t happened yet. I try to keep an eye on it, but sometimes I fail.
And then… my Big Border Crossing was so simple. The bus arrived in Ciudad Cuauhtemoc and the Customs Office was across the street. I went in and waited while two men had an interminable conversation. Eventually, one of the men took my passport and tourist card, stamped my passport and I was done. (The day before, I realized that I did not get a passport stamp when I arrived in Mexico and my brain started whirring. Then, I thought of something Ori wrote on FaceBook ‘Worry is a misuse of the imagination.’ and made myself breathe). And of course, everything turned out fine, the only blip was in my brain.
Then I caught a colectivo (shared taxi) to the Guatemalan side, where I walked from one office marked ‘Inmigracion’ to another until someone pointed me to the office where I could get my passport stamped. Really, my wandering couldn’t have taken more than five minutes. The Customs Officer took my passport, wandered off, and returned it to me stamped. Easy.
As soon as I walked out the door, I nearly ran smack into a man who graciously offered to exchange my pesos at an awful rate. Of course, given that I stood at the border in a town that exists solely to get money from border crossers, I expected this and only had enough pesos to exchange to get me through the first couple of days. So, I took the crappy rate and was on my way.
The only way (other than walking a couple of kilometers with back packs) to get to the buses is by mototaxi. Think tuk tuk driven by a 13 year old. Even the mototaxi ride was uneventful, except for a few ‘Oh-Dear-God’s.
At what may or may not have been a bus terminal, I got my first sight of a chicken bus. Ever wonder what happens to school buses when they are put out to pasture? Yeah, they don’t go to a bus ranch. They get suped up and turned into chicken buses. I boarded one of these to Xela and was finally, really, on my way.
Many other things I’m sure I haven’t even discovered yet
Which brings me back to finding a better way of talking to myself and maybe tackling some of my other weirdnesses too. I love it when what I need gets dropped at my doorstep… er, laptop.
What are the magical powers that you lack but still try to use anyway?