a new normal (?)

A gal from my English Coffee Hour Club (ooh) invited me to a Halloween event that she was organizing. I thought that it was just going to be her class or some of her friends sitting around a cold classroom drinking soda, eating chips, and listening to old Shakira or JayZ or Justin Timberlake (or someone else that isn’t too exciting for me). I was honored that she’d invited me, though, so, cutting a precious chat with my sister short, I grabbed my stamped invitation and trekked out into the rainy evening.

I ran into a couple of people I know on the street who weren’t able to get in because they didn’t have invitations. What? Then I heard several teeny-bopper neighbor gals sweet talking me to see if they could get inside with the big American. Apparently this event was a bigger deal than I thought. There were about 100 students outside in the rain trying to get inside the school. The teachers were standing just inside the door as a blockade; lots of people were shouting and being teenagers. I saw that across the lobby was another entrance with even more yelling students. It was a pretty crazy sight, and I watched feeling like quite the outsider. Then the police showed up with sticks. Apparently some kids broke windows on the other side and others busted through a basement door to get in (and someone hit a teacher?). Everyone was sent home – several hundred students (+ Bertie) from inside and out bumping their way home in the rain.

Perhaps my adrenaline was a little high, but I didn’t want to go straight home. I paced, accepted a coffee invitation from some peeps I know, saw some other friends at another coffeebar and chatted with them for an hour, and then repeated the process again with other peeps in another coffeebar. It wasn’t a super-profound evening nor was it particularly exciting…but I thought a chunk of the irony of my present life situation. I can’t say I ever thought I’d be bounced around with a bunch of Kosovar youth to get into a high school event. I never thought (even a few months ago) that I’d wander from coffeebar to coffeebar with Kosovar acquaintances – and somewhat enjoy it. In high school and college, I was far too busy being self-important that I hardly made time for stuff like this. Not gonna lie – sometimes I miss doing things that feel important (‘causes’). Yet maybe this hangout time is pretty neat after all. Maybe a part of Roberta doesn’t appreciate/value it like I should…but I’m learning. Perhaps my role isn't something grandiose like women's health education or community rehabilitation or literacy programming or whatever sounds cooler on a resume than "err...I drink coffee with Kosovarians..." ...but I'm learning. -to appreciate this unique opportunity of seeing "inside Kosova"; to not live my life in a way to make myself sound impressive; to value the time it takes for trust to be built (and value longer commitments); to not take myself so seriously ("i will be an agent of change...or else i won't be" - sr. in college roberta).