thoughts flowing like water

The past 2 weeks have been so busy that I feel like the only time I've had a chance at downtime has been in the shower. Fortunately, as soon as that flowing water hits my head, by brain seems to be awakened and it's become the most productive me-time of the day.

In a little over a month, my co-worker and his wife, both of whom have become friends of mine over the past year, will be departing Taiwan. Every time someone leaves, it seems that those around them can't help but ask the question, "how much longer am I going to stick around?" And so, following along with the natural course of things, that's where a few friends and I have found ourselves lately, re-visiting one of our most frequently asked questions - "how long?"

Adding complication to the contemplation of where life should be heading is the growing frustration with the nonsensical acts and outright stupidity of others encountered on a daily basis with growing frequency. After a certain amount of time, my infinite amount of patience does appear to have a limit after all. One question I've forced myself to consider is, am I becoming more easily frustrated with things because I'm thinking about when to move on and perhaps looking for a reason/excuse to make a decision sooner rather than later or is my frustration/discontentment the real reason I'm revisiting the "how do you know when it really is time to move" question.? At the moment, I'm finding it about as productive as the "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" debate. Am I frustrated and so my thoughts return to leaving or am I thinking about leaving and so I'm finding it easier to be frustrated with life at present?

Irony comes in bucketfuls sometimes. In the midst of all the processing I get an unexpected invitation to exchange this continent for another to teach English in South America. I know how it is that I ended up in Taiwan and I suppose until I have similar inclinations, I won't be so easily tempted to run off to yet another foreign land. The offer did, however, put greater concern on something I was already considering - how much longer do I want to be teaching?

How is it that I managed to stray so far from my major? Furthermore, how is it that five years out of college I've yet to put to use the education for which I'm still paying? Perhaps the most difficult to address though is, do I really ever see myself putting my degree to use?

Teaching is something that as a kid, I thought an appealing profession. After all, what could be more fun than handing out stickers and getting to grade tests and homework? When the time came to actually declare a major, education was far from my considerations. Instead, I landed myself in business. I know why I chose it. It was in part because being halfway through your Jr. year and still carrying the label Undeclared did not sit well with many of the higher-ups at the school. Then came the internship I wanted and the funny rule to get around that in order to participate in an internship you must first have the support of a department, the department in which your major resided. But most of all, I'd like to think that I chose it because once upon a time, I loved it, or at least loved studying it. I loved how logical it all seemed. I loved learning about how things that seem such a natural part of life or work today were actually thought out and implemented by someone. I loved how aspects of work could be broken down into a science, appealing to the part of me that never gave up my childhood love of science.

Despite my enjoyment of it, after 4 years of higher education, what is it that I actually learned to do? What is my contribution to society supposed to be now? What do I actually see myself doing professionally? All the questions only lead to question marks. Some naive part of me must have thought these answers would be magically presented to me with my diploma and so, from the moment I left college, I've felt lost. From then on, I suppose I've allowed myself to feel stuck and second guess decisions.

About a year after graduation, I found myself halfway around the world in Taiwan, where at times I've once again felt stuck. I think I may have mentioned before that in coming to Taiwan, I had originally only intended to come for a year. I thought I'd be giving myself a break until I "figured it all out." I thought perhaps being so far removed from everything familiar and so much of what I loved would really show me who I am and what I want to do. As a result, Taiwan became a waiting room until I figured out where I was really supposed to be and what I was really supposed to be doing instead of considering for one moment that where I was and what I was doing could be part of the answer I was looking for. Nearing the end of my first year no closer to knowing any of the answers I wanted, I realized a few things. First, I didn't want to go back home as clueless as I came. I didn't want to go back without a plan or idea as to what comes next. Second, Taiwan wasn't a waiting room or even a rest stop. Perhaps it's been an exit from the road I thought I was on or should be on, but I've had the privilege of arriving temporarily at a destination that's very much alive and to not be a part of the life I've been give here would be a huge mistake. The reality is, this is life. This is where I am right now. Stop ignoring it. (I sadly still need to be reminded of this from time to time.)

It's ironic that after four years in my foreign home, I find myself no closer to knowing what I want to be doing than I did after four years of college. In light of my soon departing friends inquiring how soon until I rejoin the North American life, I'm forced to revisit the questions and doubts that have come to haunt. I find myself still without the answers I thought I would have arrived at years ago. Wow, look at how far I've come in the past 5 years! Please do not miss the tone of sarcasm for I feel like I'm still lined up at the starting line waiting for the gun to sound and the race to begin. But where there should be a finish line, a destination, a goal in sight, there is nothing. Instead of moving confidently forward with the preparations of my past, I feel a bit more like I've been running in the dark and stubbing my toe against all I feel I should have foreseen.

So what is the cycling of questions worth? Recent frustrations aside, why am I actually intent on the "how much longer" question? I suppose when faced with too many questions that cannot yet be answered, or at least not answered all at once, it would be nice to have the answer to just one or two. Yet part of me knows "how much longer?" is not the real question at hand. While leaving may give the facade of a solution, perhaps instead it's an avoidance of addressing the heart of the matter. I just hope that I reach the heart of the matter before having a heart in the matter doesn't matter anymore.