Poco a poco

First of all, I need to extend an apology to all those who might have been offended by my last entry. I got a little carried away on a philosophical tangent and the conclusion could have been interpreted as a declaration of the meaninglessness of every relationship I've had. Whoops. That was not my intention. I love all of you. Unique, and contingent on coincidence are not mutually exclusive, nor does a relationship have to be a beautiful, singular snowflake to be 'good' or 'special.' Coincidence is not a bad word; it is only through a seemingly miraculous chain of coincidences that any one of us is here. Coincidence is a fact of life, one I'm still trying to wrap my head around.
Today is Day #12 (728 to go), and I'm sitting at the one computer in town in the one building in town with electricity. That building is the cooperative with which I'm supposed to be working while I'm here. So far, not a lot of work has taken place, but that's okay. Our first months on the job are supposed to be spent observing, planning, and talking with people. Right now I live about 25 minutes down the hill from the cooperative and my typical day unfolds like this: I wake up at 6:30, shower, brush teeth, and eat breakfast with the host family, then I head up the hill and go to the land where we are building my house and work until it rains, then I hang out at the cooperative, talking to people, having a soda, doing some reading, maybe helping my counterpart Florentino do something, then at five or so walk down the hill for dinner. I guess that sounds pretty boring, but the truth is that there aren't really any 'typical' days, just some that seem more like others. Last week was their big independence day celebration, replete with a parade and a gratuidous amount of drumming. Today I hiked to Oma, a community about an hour away. Things are going pretty well, and I can't say I feel too bored or anxious, which is a bit of a surprise. It wasn't always this easy my friends, no. In fact, the first day was pretty rough. Here's what I wrote:

I can't believe I called the States last night. I am so weak. Nothing but answering machines. Poetic justice. Have I reached the end of what I thought was an infinite reserve of adaptibility and self-reliance? Maybe so. Everywhere I've traveled, every change I've made, I've been able to adjust and make the environment my own. Why am I failing now?
And yet, sitting here watching my counterpart collect money for the recently slaughtered cow, I realize berating myself is getting me nowhere. What is this thing I'm feeling? Overwhelmed? Yeah. Isolated? Definitely. But it's more than that; I'm drowning. Pinned under the weight of the next two years, which might as well be twenty. I tred to write out a schedule for the week, but that only further emphasized the point that I am here forever. And I didn't know what to write, what to do. Did I learn anything in training? Thanks a lot Mark Samples (trainer). My counterpart isn't exactly helping the situation either. He's said about seven words to me as I site here, being slowly hit by a twenty-four month-long train. Thanks a lot Florentino.
No, this is no one else's fault, no one else's problem. Pull yourself together Adam.
Maybe I should go visit Jessica, she's only twenty minutes away. No, be strong. Or at least, less weak.
Hmm, feeling strangly better, but I'm not sure why. Maybe things are going to be okay. Wait. Vibration in my pocket! Text message from a friend!

Wow, pretty pathetic. But there you have it. I'm here in David celebrating a friend's birthday, out of my site for the first time in two weeks. Next week, we start on the construction of my house. In fact, I'm kind of excited to go back.