A Memoir - Some More

Having proudly come out of the hell of college education and faking my way through a job interview, for the first time in my life I had time and money, neither of which I knew what to do with. A few weeks later, sweaty and happy, I walked out of a dance class. Waltzing through the hall, I was suddenly stopped in my tracks. The sounds coming from behind another door had me captivated. The percussion, the rhythm, the syncopation. The energy! 

Being an ideal student of an atheist school of thought from the first breath of my birth, words like soul and spirit were not part of my vocabulary. But I felt like something that was asleep deep inside, something that could be called as my soul had started to sing. A rush of energy moved up into my chest. I stood taller. I had no choice but to be in that room. 

Thus begun my unending obsession and a love affair with salsa.

I had found my place in this world.

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"Where do you see yourself in five years?" Huh? Was this an actual question? People, I just got over (-ish) a culture shock, learned (-ish) a new language and earned (worked my __ off) a master's degree. I still couldn't tolerate food, itched my hands through the night enthusiastically enough to draw blood while my mind refused to sleep. My parents have effectively ignored my incessant complaints of paralyzing fatigue and began making fun instead. 

My idea of fun was a non-school book with a side of Keebler chocolate-filled shortbread cookies upon opening my eyes late mornings. Where do I see myself in five years? I had no time for such deep reflection, nor an interest. The goal was to make it through the day without falling asleep half-way through. I made plans cautiously, for there was no way to know if I would have any energy to "get there." Where will I be in five years? The question scared me, as I didn't realize I had to know. 

I was learning to think the American way. Kind of.