Since being home, I have felt less inspired to write but I suppose it is important to document my recent transition back to the states.

Two weeks ago when I stepped off the plane, I had to wait at SFO for about thirty minutes before my ride arrived. I remember stepping out of my gate, entering the airport and feeling deluded by the initial contact with home. Subconsciously, there was a sense of familiarity as if no time had passed but simultaneously, I felt fear. This fear that I wasn't prepared to face this place that I knew as home for the past twenty- one years.

It was strange, I felt as if I had to brace myself for something, something that I can't really put into words. Perhaps it was disappointment or disapproval, maybe even just pure isolation. In Tanzania, every stranger I crossed paths with was greeted in one way or another as my brother or my sister. Everyone acknowledged their neighbor and everyone was considered a neighbor, never a stranger. If only it was the same in the states.

The impending question has been what's next, what's "my plan"? I have to admit, whenever I'm in the states, I always feel this sense of urgency to "figure things out" because to tell someone I'm just living life simply isn't enough. A recent college graduate like myself would be expected to either further her education or start her career, neither of which feel right for me at this point in time. I'm not sure exactly what I want but I do know what I don't want so with that, I will not break under the pressure. Call it what you will, rebellion, escape, who cares. I just want to live.