"The Best Twenty-five of twenty-five," part I

For this last week of twenty-five, I would like to take some time to highlight some events or discoveries that might not have gotten much--if any--mention on this blog, but nevertheless played a formative or otherwise interesting role my last year of life. Each day, for the next five days, I will highlight five "Best Ofs" from my twenty-fifth year, comprising, altogether, "The Best Twenty-five of twenty-five."

Here goes:

1. The best birthday gift

This is way hard to choose, actually, because I had so many amazing birthday presents last year! Ashley Jones gave me a skirt that I love and the best key cover ever. I got a beautiful sweater and some great books from my sisters. And Josiah, in his usual custom, gave a hand-made greeting card, complete with personalized coupons to be redeemed for special outings and fun activities. In the end, I guess I have to say that Josiah's present would be the best, because there's no greater gift than time.

2. The best (and by "best," I mean worst) near-death experience

I'm not exaggerating. I really could have died. Back in September, when Josiah, Jared, and I took a two-night backpacking trip in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, the weather was less than kind to us. The first morning, it started to drizzle. With hopes of climbing nearby Madera Peak, we eyed the sky hopefully all day, casting furtive glances at the southern horizon, where dark clouds persistently loomed over the mountain tops.

Finally, at mid afternoon, the clouds in the south still showing no immediate intention to move our direction, we decided to just go for it. Armed with water and snacks, we began to scale the steep, granite slope. Once we cleared the tree line, the going became especially difficult, with loose rock shards slipping out from under us as we climbed higher and higher, our gaze remaining cautiously on the clouds in the south, ready to detect the slightest hint of threat.

A clap of thunder sounded so loud and so close you could feel it in the ground. Immediately, we realized our folly: we had been watching the clouds in the south so intently, we had entirely failed to notice the storm advancing on us rapidly from the north! We were absolutely exposed and standing on the side of one of the tallest mountain peaks in the vicinity, nothing but loose granite beneath our feet.

Fully aware that a scraped knee or even a twisted ankle would be preferable to being struck by lightning, we began to descend as quickly as possible, running and sometimes sliding down hillsides of sharp stones. As incautiously as we hurried, however, we were no match for the rolling black clouds, which advanced on us rapidly, releasing terrifying cracks of lightning. I moved as fast as I could, but both Jared and Josiah were far ahead of me. The clouds were finally right overhead. And then I was passing trees and shrubs and, as the rain began to fall, my hiking boots touched soft dirt, and I knew I was probably going to live.

3. The best thing I got in the mail

A letter from a student in Japan.

4. The best job

I genuinely loved working for UPS in December. I never thought it would be possible to love a job and occasionally, specifically on the days that it rained, it could be a little bit miserable. But I loved the feeling of working hard and doing something physically exerting while being outdoors and interacting with lots of different people in a positive setting all day. What was there not to love?

5. The best thing I crocheted

In late 2010 and early 2011, I crocheted several fun little things of which I was quite proud, but my favorite would have to be this guy right here.

He's an iPod sleeve.

One Year to the Day

As cliché as it may be for me to say so, I can't believe a year has already gone by. Certainly, the distance between me and that salmon-colored concrete schoolhouse surrounded by rice paddies seems vaster than ever before, but a year? It hardly seems possible that my ongoings, since leaving my job and my life in Japan, have been plentiful enough to fill 365 full days. The facts--that I took a trip to Vancouver, Canada, watched both my sisters get married, spent two months in Europe, worked a month at UPS and am now nearly a month into a new job--seem negligible. Years are supposed to feel grander, more substantial, than what has passed between this day and the day I stood up in front of a swelteringly hot gym full of 200-some students and their teachers, all of whom had contributed so significantly to my experiences and perceptions of their country, and choked out a goodbye speech in a language I have since all but lost. Referring to what has passed between now and then as a year seems ridiculous. If years can slip away so quick and easily, then what use have I for them?

I wanted to do something special--commemorative--to mark this day. I thought about making Japanese food for dinner, maybe driving up to Kearney Mesa and visiting some of the Japanese retailers in town. Watching a Japanese film was also taken under consideration. But I realize that any of these activities, even if I were to invite my parents to participate, would be imbued with a tinge of loneliness and remorse. It is more than an ocean that divides me from the country that, when I left, was just beginning to feel familiar. Japan and I are separated by a full year of experiences. We have both changed a lot in that year. I feel particularly estranged from the pain that that country has suffered in the aftermath of March's natural disasters, and know that my separation from these events has rendered me more of an outsider--more of a gaijin--than ever before. In this sense, a "year" seems hardly sufficient to describe the span of what has elapsed between me and my life in Japan.

The Eyes of the Employed

I walked out to my car in the mall parking lot, amazed at the happy, self-confident feeling that had suddenly swept over me. I had just completed my orientation to begin employment at the book store there and it was as though I were seeing the world in a new light. It was similar to the feeling that I'd had throughout most the month of December, while I'd committed to the backbreaking work of a seasonal driver helper for the United Postal Service. I felt lighter, the weight of unemployment lifted from my shoulders a replaced by a dawning sense of freedom, as though I had been liberated to rejoin the world of responsible, contributing members of society.

J-O-B: Day Fifteen

I'm too tired to blog.

For the last week or so, it seems I come home from work each evening with my mind rebelling ferociously against any activity that requires actual thought. Seriously. I'm having a really hard time right now just composing these few sentences.

It's about halfway through a straight ten-hour-plus shift (no breaks, mind you) that I begin to motivate myself with the thought that as soon as I get home I will crawl into bed with Netflix. Netflix and nachos. Definitely nachos.

J-O-B: Day 6

My bruises have bruises.

J-O-B: Day 5

My blisters have blisters.

Truly.

J-O-B: Day 3

Phew. So ends my first week as a seasonal driver helper for UPS. I haven't worked this hard at a job since, well, ever. And I'm loving it!

I realized today that perhaps part of why I feel so amicably toward my job is that it reminds me in many ways of backpacking, which is an activity that I happen to enjoy more than just about anything else. The physical exertion required in this job each day is similar to that required during a day on a backpacking trip. Both on the trail and in the delivery truck, I keep my energy up by munching on CLIF bars. In both situations, I use a headlamp to see at night. In both situations, I get nasty blisters on my toes. Basically, my body thinks it's on a backpacking trip right now and that translates into happy feelings in my brain. Sure, there's no camp food or campfire, I don't get to sleep under the stars, and the scenery would never make it on a postcard; so, there are a few significant differences. But don't tell my body that.

J-O-B: Day 1

At 10:30 this morning, it seemed fair enough to assume that UPS wasn't going to call me in to start work today. Faced unexpectedly with the prospect of lots of free time, I decided to lie in my bed for a while to think about how best to spend my day. Thinking time naturally evolved into nap time, and when my ringing cell phone interrupted my dreams at 11:45, it felt as though the day had already progressed much later than it actually had.

On the phone was a someone from the UPS distribution center, offering me a job: at 12:45 I would meet a driver at a designated location on her route and assist her with the rest of her deliveries for the day.

I gobbled down lunch, pulled on my uniform, and drove to the meeting place. At 12:53, I was pulling out my cell phone to call the distribution center and make sure there was no misunderstanding, when a familiar brown delivery truck rolled up to the stop sign in front of me. I waved to the driver and she pointed me toward a place where I could leave my car for the day.

Upon boarding the UPS truck, I received a warm greeting from the driver, Carolina, a small, pretty Latina in her early thirties. Showing me the rear cargo area of the vehicle, she exclaimed, "I was able to clear a lot of space from my morning deliveries so now we have some dancing room!" She threw up a pair of enthusiastic jazz hands to emphasize her point. I knew then and there that we would get along perfectly.

My first day on the job was fun, educational, and completely exhausting. My body is in pain right now, and I'm not eager to find out how it's going to feel in the morning. But I am looking forward to another day of work. Despite the breakneck pace and a couple of minor mistakes made on my part, it was the best first day of a new job I've ever had.

Highlights:

At one stop, I had dropped a package by the front door and was heading back to the the truck when the resident opened the door. Continuing down the driveway, I waved to him and called out, "Thank you!" The man did not reply or return my wave, and something in his countenance indicated displeasure. He raised a finger, as to indicate that he wanted a word with me. Hurrying back toward the house, I apologized. He shook his head and pointed to the large black cat that was sitting on his shoulder. "No. You know...how some people have a...a parrot that sits on their shoulder. Well, anyway, I was thinking that I was gonna scare you when I came to the door with this cat on my shoulder but...you were already gone."

People are weird.

At another stop, a girl approached the truck, holding an envelope with a postage stamp on it and asked if she could give it to us. I kindly directed her to the nearby blue USPS box. Back on the road, I asked Carolina if that sort of thing happens often. She rolled her eyes dramatically, "Oh my god, girl, all the time!"

I got the browns.

After sitting through five hours of paid training this morning, I was issued a company regulation uniform, to be worn in my service over the next month as a seasonal employee of the United Parcel Service. Swimming in my men's uniform, I look and feel unusually tiny, and worry a bit that, should I meet my driver/supervisor tomorrow, he or she will take one look at me and wonder, "Is this little tiny person really going to be able to assist me in delivering heavy packages at a fast pace during the busiest time of the year?"

My position title: driver helper. Of the thirty new hires who attended the employee orientation at the UPS distribution center with me this morning, I was the only female. This didn't make me feel insecure or discouraged, but it did have the effect of drawing my fuller awareness to the fact that this is a job with a reputation for being highly physically exacting. In the event that I do start work tomorrow morning (my start date being determined by the current demand for driver helpers in my area), I will be riding in a UPS truck, helping the driver to make hundreds of deliveries within a highly constrained slot of time. This job has a potential to be extremely stressful and almost certainly completely exhausting.

So why do it? Though a paycheck is always helpful, living with my parents puts me in a position where I could very easily continue to live off my savings for quite some time. Why work if I don't have to?

For starters, it's part of the Plan (the full extent of which I am still emotionally unprepared to disclose). And yes, sitting around the house watching old shows on Netflix day after day has been wearing on me for well over a month now. But, most importantly, it's a new experience, a new opportunity to learn and see and do things outside my normal realm of existence. And, if I'm really going to "live twenty-five to the fullest," I want to have as many of these types of experiences as possible.