Deep roots, an attached heart and a wandering soul

I know a lot of people who've had birthdays in the last month: five people close to me and several others. I've decided to start calling friends and family in the States for their birthdays (this is a NEW policy, so don't bitch me out...and if you want to call me instead, I won't complain). In any case, this means I've talked to two of my best friends on the phone in the last 2 weeks. In addition to asking how I am doing, what I am doing and what life is like here, they both asked what I wanted to do afterwards. Here's my standard answer: "I don't know....[20 minutes of wavering]... I think I want to be a columnist or maybe work with international women's issues" "What does that mean? Where do you want to go?" they ask. I don't know...but this phone call makes me want to jump right back home [though I don't know my definition of that either].

I've been lucky with friends (Rebecca would argue that there's no luck or unequal distribution of friendship in the world: you get what you give). I have a network of friends back in the States who completely get me and love me with all my flaws - people who would do anything for me, and I would do anything for them. My roots are with them - they've seen me through so much and I want to bring them with me everywhere. Figuratively, I do. I know they are thinking of me and emailing me and supporting me...but I miss those long conversations where you just pour it all out -- where the only thing in front of you are familar, sympathetic eyes; where you throw out all your pieces to someone and they know just what to do with them. I need to sit sideways on my couch [sold] like I like to do and have those old exchanges.

But, I packed everything and came here. To this, whatever this is. I wasn't happy and had no idea how to make myself happy. I came here hoping to figure it out, and I still don't know. I want a lot from this world - from myself and my experiences and the people in my life. Sometimes I think I want too much. I don't settle. I want quality - I give it (or strive to) and want it in return. I've found it with several people - and that number has grown since coming here - and at various times and various places, but no combination has ever fully clicked. I get attached to people and even places and things and it's hard as hell to leave them, but I know staying will be a slow death so I take the elctroshock and move, still finding it hard to move on.

I feel like there's more out there - that I haven't found my place or my mark yet. To be true to myself and not lead that life of quiet desperation Thoreau warned us about, I have to continue the search. I fear that I may never find my place or mark and that all these great things - these quality things that I've found - will have been needlessly overlooked and underestimated. Not a rock or an island, I don't see myself in twenty years with a backpack in the desert or in the jungle...or, really, any further than a mile from an iced mocha, a Whole Foods (or something like it) and some great friends. Beyond that...no clue. I struggle with this every damn day. Do I want too much? Are my risks in vain? Am I living it right?