another sunset

The air is cold outside, the sun is hiding behind a mixture of clouds and dust on whose particles its rays rest, giving me the familiar sunset that my eyes never grow weary of. The air no longer bites in that you want to take refuge from it. It is that refreshing sense that fills your lungs and chills your skin, making you feel alive and yet ever alone.
Motorcycles buzz by, kicking up the soil that has yet to be anchored with the roots of spring. An obscene piece of graffiti—the result of puberty and too much free time—disturbs my view. I am continually frustrated that as beautiful as the sight is I cannot look directly at the sun and thus not take in the scene fully, I am forced to use my peripheral vision. As it pulls itself closer to the edge of the horizon to visit the other side of the earth it becomes more and more red. Finally it bids me farewell as it peers over the hills. For a moment I can gaze at it in full. My first inclination was to be disappointed but I thought against it and continued to stare. It was so simple, round and red, that’s it. Yet I felt like I couldn’t pull my eyes from it. Really, it is a strange sensation to be able to look directly at that which is powerful enough to burn my skin and light up a whole atmosphere.
I feel alone and yet I want to be. It is this confusing dialectic of conflicting feelings that is my affliction. How can one so desire to be around loved ones and familiarity and yet turn down an offer to escape loneness? Is it that the uncomfortable company of strangers makes one feel more alone than actually being alone? Sometimes this may be true, but I wonder if it is more the fear of feeling alone when with others that drives me to this strange place. Fear is a lousy driver.
I have realized how I am so influenced by what others think. I think it is in part due to being somewhat of a people pleaser, not wanting to rock the boat too much and be generally agreeable with people. I noticed it when I began to quickly change how I felt about where I am and what I am doing. When people from the big city came and visited I felt like my living situation is somewhat simple and that I am generally satisfied. Maybe the same when I talk (email) with people in other countries or think about their lives. There was this feeling of sort of being somewhat proud of being able to adjust to this kind of life. Faster than I could say “paradigm shift” I began to feel like I wasn’t getting a real experience here. I went to a gathering of Peace Corps volunteers where a pig was roasted on a metal wire frame and I heard about how remote some of their towns were. Most live in gers, chop their own wood, and get their water from a well. Some are the only English speaker in their town.
At this point I began to feel like a filthy rich kid that came in wanting to get some attention and feel good about himself, all the while living in luxury. I then started to feel inadequate and useless and about how much more of a rich experience they are getting. They are learning the language and living a lifestyle that is so different from their life back home that they will never see things the same. My life, it isn’t really all that different. I’m somewhat isolated, but I have the internet and 2 Americans in my town that I can spend time with.
Fear really is a lousy driver. It took me down this road, the fear of being on the verge of a great experience only to have seen it from a distance. I learned you really can’t let other people determine your experiences—there is someone who always has it better or worse—it is ok to learn from them and gain perspective. I truly admire what the Peace Corps people are doing, but through hearing their frustrations I see that we are each getting our own unique experience of Mongolia. My time is short here and in a sense I am jealous for more. If I was here longer then maybe I could have a more diversified experience.