Small Town Life

Before I begin this blog post, I would like to say that I have had two ideas for blog posts floating around in my head for about two weeks now. The first one is on traveling/distance and illness/death, which will be coming in the next few weeks, and the second one is this blog post, on small town life. It isn't so much about traveling, more about what I leave behind when I do travel.

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I live in a small suburban town in northeast NJ. There isn't much diversity and there isn't much to do. And everybody basically knows everybody.

I have to say, I hated my town when I was a teenager. I really, truly counted down the days until I could leave for college. This hatred is probably one of the reasons that I went so far away for college, as far as I could possibly go without crossing an ocean.

Let me backtrack. I'm a bit different. Not in the "special snowflake" way, but mostly the problem is sometimes I have trouble in social situations. I'm awkward. I'm much, much better now, but I spent a lot of time growing up not really knowing how to act around people. I was different enough, though, to become an easy target for teasing. Middle school was basically hell, which is one of the reasons that I didn't go to my public high school. It basically drove me to the brink of suicide. It was terrible.

High school was a little better, but I still lived in my town. Does anybody remember the "xanga" phase? You know, like before/during the time period when livejournal was popular, lots of people had xangas and myspaces (I feel ancient talking about this) and wrote about the "trials and tribulations" of teenage life. Yes, I had one of those, and I rediscovered it recently. I definitely had more than one blog post about how crappy my town was and how it sucked, and really, all the stuff a person says when they hate where they are from.

I have to be honest, I meant it at the time, but now I look back and it is just stupid. I was stupid. But then again, if I had never left, never traveled, I probably would not have realized this.

My perspective has changed.

Today, I look around, and I can't imagine growing up any place but where I grew up. This place may not be perfect, but it is my town. For a 1.09 square mile town, we have had quite a few tragedies that have united us. We lost somebody on 9/11. We had a child die a few years ago, my best friend's youngest sister's friend. A few years before that, half of family died when they were hit by a car as they were walking to the elementary school. Most recently, we lost a Marine. And each time these things happened, the outpouring of love and support were overwhelming. The people of the town really came together to show how much it meant to be part of this community.

When I think about having children (and I really don't think about this often), I think I want them to grow up in a small suburban town. The support system here is wonderful. Although, I have to admit, it can also really be a downer when everybody knows your business. But still, it is kind of wonderful.

After spending a few years in Los Angeles, I started to believe that the impersonal was better. The less you invest yourself in other people, the less you get hurt. Yes, certain communities within LA unite and take care of each other, but it is, at it's heart, a city. And cities just do not have that same support that towns have. It was weird to come back. Maybe my dreams are too big for where I grew up, but what big dreams aren't?

My dad grew up in this town. My grandparents still have a house here.

After being gone for 4 years, it is amazing to come back and have a conversation with people that I haven't seen in years. It's also funny when somebody says something along the lines of "How old are you now? I remember when you were as tall as my knee!" It really, truly amazes me how much people can be invested in the lives of the people within their town. It is beautiful.

So, for anybody reading this who has had to listen to me rant about how terrible my town is, I take it back, I apologize. My town is amazing. My town is wonderful. It has it's faults, no doubt, but it is my home.

HIV Education

Two posts in one week, let alone one month?! Yes, I am trying to post more!

Yesterday, I taught HIV to a class of high school students. This was my first time in front of a classroom in about 8 months and it went SO WELL. I really love to be in charge of classroom of students who need to learn topics like Sex Education, HIV/AIDS, and other difficult-to-cover subjects. The students were so engaged and the mentor who cam with me to make sure I could teach (since I'm doing this as a volunteer with the amazing Buddies of NJ AIDS organization) said I did an excellent job!

I was nervous at first, but once I got my flow, all of my training and background just took over. Granted, I kind of jumped from one topic to another, but the kids stayed interested and if I forgot anything I just jumped back. I managed to cover the 3 types of transmission, including an in-depth discussion for each of the 3 main modes of transmission (sexual contact, mother-to-child, and blood-to-blood [including needles and tattoos]), how an HIV test works, some theories behind how it was transferred into humans, what people with AIDS "look like", how many people in the US are HIV+ and how many people worldwide are positive, how stigma plays a role in knowing your status, how many people who have HIV have no idea, and volunteering with AIDS organizations at home and abroad. Oh, and of course, my favorite things in the world: a male condom demonstration, a female condom demonstration, and a dental dam demonstration.

It was exhilarating! It felt wonderful! And I really did give these kids some knowledge. I know this because a bunch came up to me/my counterpart/the teacher to thank us and to say they had learned a lot.

There were some funny moments. At one point, instead of saying "And then you take the condom off," I said, "And then you take the penis off!" I lost the class for a good minute at that point, and saved myself with a Lorena Bobbit joke! Ha! And then, I accidentally made a rude motion when I was talking with my hands, but the teacher was okay with that and laughed it off.

Anyway, this will hopefully keep me sharp for when I do get into the Peace Corps, where I am nominated for Health Extension.

Have a great rest of the week!

Sorry!

I know I apologize all the time for not keeping this blog up-to-date. I'm really trying, I swear!

Anyway, I came here to write a post about patience, only to realize, hey, that was my last post! I have been thinking about patience a lot, obviously, and the closer June gets, the more I think about the mountain I have to climb to get to an invitation. It seems worth it. It is worth it. And I'm using my time until then in a pretty okay way I think. Working, making money, volunteering, etc. It's just frustrating, I guess.

So, because of all this waiting, I had a few questions, which I sent to my recruiter in January. I haven't heard anything from her, so I decided to call the Peace Corps NY Regional Office instead, just to feel like I was doing something. On Wednesday, I spoke to a lovely woman (I wish I could remember her name!) who was very helpful in answering my questions and alleviating any fears. She was also deferred in her application process because of medical, and now she's a recruiter! So, that made me feel much better.

I have also realized I am ready to be away from driving for awhile.

(Before I start into this story, let me explain. The Peace Corps, from everything I've read, does NOT allow you to drive while you are in country. If you want to drive, you have to get special permission. When Peace Corps started, a lot of people received motorcycles to get to different places, but once the death count started to climb, they nixed the motorcycles and instead started giving out bikes, which they still do to this day.)

If you know me, you know I love to drive. I am so comfortable behind the wheel, and revel in the fact that I can get from one place to another rather quickly. I had a driving job in college for 3 years. In high school, I was almost always the one to drive my friends around. Both of my best friends at home aren't that comfortable driving, so I'm usually the one to drive. I had my own car in college, and I loved the freedom, driving all over LA County all the time, down to San Diego frequently, and over to Phoenix a few times. Until recently, I have been most comfortable in my car, alone, singing at the top of my lungs, and just feeling free.

Car accidents. Specifically, two in the span of four months. One in December, which I have already written about, and now one this month as well. As you may have read, in December, I hydroplaned but miraculously was unhurt. This time around, I was the passenger in a car that was T-boned on the passenger side. A small car, hit by a Dodge truck. It was terrifying. I had to go to the hospital to make sure I didn't mess up my head again. I also had to get an X-ray for my arm because I had seen the truck coming so I turned away and the seat belt was against the middle of my arm; they wanted to make sure it wasn't fractured. It wasn't... I just had a nice bruise for awhile. And the woman who was driving was fine. This was her first accident in over 20 years! I'm starting to think cars are attracted to me! Haha.

So yes, I am ready to take a break from cars for awhile. Public transportation sounds more appetizing than driving, however, I will never forget about seeing the overturned bus on the side of the road in Tanzania, so I'm even a little scared about that. Nor will I forget about the two times I hit my head on the roof of the bus on the way from TZ to Uganda because of potholes. Fun times.

Anyway, I hope you all have an amazing week!

The Waiting Game

So, if you read over any of the "Peace Corps Journals" blogs, especially those of the Applicants, you will find that patience, waiting, and Restless Applicant Syndrome (or RAS for short) are all mentioned pretty frequently. And if you know me in real life, you will know I am by no means a patient person. I like to go out and "do" rather than wait around for something to happen. I am somewhat ambitious to a fault.

I have been playing the waiting game now for over a year. First, I waited a month for my interview (submitted my application beginning of January '11, interviewed the first week of Feb '11). Then, I waited 1 month for a nomination, only to have to wait 3 more months (originally was supposed to receive a nomination in March, had to wait until June). Then I got what I like to call "Part 1" of my medical packet, and had that done in no time, only to be deferred (sent the packet in June '11, received word of deferral in July '11, to be deferred until December '11). Since my nomination was for January '12, and personally, I felt the deferral was unneeded, I appealed the deferral, at which point it was frustratingly extended (I sent in the paperwork in August '11, received word of the extension of the deferral in Sept '11). So now, I'm deferred until June '12, because of a paperwork mix-up.

It is so frustrating, beyond anything I can even explain. But I know that it is going to be worth it. It is my DREAM to do the Peace Corps, and I have been working toward it since I found out what it was around the middle school years. I can't believe that I am waiting this long for something. I have never waited this long for anything in my life, except maybe college, and well, that is something you HAVE to wait for.

I'm doing a lot of things in the mean time to keep myself busy, but sometimes, that little thought comes to my head, that "is it going to be worth it" thought. Because, honestly, I have things to do, places to see, people to meet, and a career to eventually start. I'm putting my life on hold, only to put it "on hold" (in a sense) for an even longer period of time. Will it be worth it? Only time can tell...

But I really want it. I want it with every bone in my body, with every neuron in my brain, with every breath I take, with every beat of my heart, and with every second that passes. I have never wanted anything more in my life.

I have a back-up plan, but I don't want to have to rely on it. Some days, I would really love to make Plan B into Plan A, but I know, I trust, that I would regret that decision.

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Sometimes people ask me why I don't just put Peace Corps on the back-burner, and return to it after retirement or something along those lines. I don't want to do that because I don't know what the future holds. My aunt died of cancer at age 45. I don't want to die knowing that there are things that I really wanted to do that I never did because of fear or frustration or lack of patience or worry. I don't want to live knowing that, to myself, I'm not really living.

I hope everyone has an amazing week! Happy (almost) March!

I'm a Doula!

And today, I had my first ever birth... I'm still processing, but whoa, this is such an exciting occurrence. It's funny because people told me that once I witnessed and/or had a child, I would turn around some of my political views, but they remain the same, even more fully in place in my mind at this point.

This child, this little boy, took only a total of around 10 hours to come into this world. From pre-born to born, full-term fetus to baby, human to person, in a span that is just a small amount of time in the long run. It is absolutely amazingly beautiful. Miraculous.

I love the human body.

Peace Corps Update (Again!)

So, I know it's been over a month since I last wrote, but I'm not going to be hard on myself. Instead, I'm going to adjust. Instead of trying to update weekly, and failing, I'm going to attempt to update twice a month. Not too bad of goal, methinks.

Anyway, since it is now 2012, and my deferral is lifted in June of this year, I emailed the Peace Corps Medical Office to see what was up and the steps I would have to take to get this pesky (and, in my opinion, undeserved) deferral lifted. So my Peace Corps Medical Nurse person emailed me back saying that I have to see a psychiatrist three times and be evaluated by a test, etc. I thought this is wasn't going to be a big deal, because I can just space out those three sessions in February, April, and June, and then send the paperwork along.

But! It turns out ALL 3 sessions need to be in or after June in order to count, since that was when I "last had symptoms." (No, it wasn't, and yes, it's a complicated story, but it is in the archives if you want to look it up because I don't feel like re-hashing it.) It doesn't matter how spaced out these sessions are, as long as there are three. If I felt like pushing my luck, I would just go to see a therapist three days in a row and send my paperwork in after that, but I'm going to put a week in between each of those sessions. Which means I won't even get my regular, non-mental health packet until the middle of July probably, which is, ready for this? ... a grand total of 19 MONTHS since I first applied.

Sometimes I feel like giving up, but that isn't in my personality as it is. I'm applying to other things and planning other things and working, just in case, after all of this, it doesn't work out, but I am still holding on to hope.

Seriously though (and this is going to be a mini-rant, so feel free to skip this paragraph), wouldn't evaluations over the course of a few months be a much better indicator of my mental health than evaluations over a three week period? Like, I understand why I was deferred, even if I don't agree with it. It was a terrible stroke of bad luck that my deferral was pushed further. But now, seriously, you want me to go see a therapist, talk to them for a grand total of 3 hours, and decide with that whether or not I am capable of handling myself for two years?! It's just altogether too frustrating for words sometimes.

Anyway, I hope everyone is doing wonderfully, if any of you have stuck around to read this! I will update my PC Timeline sometime soon. I'm also going to write another post before the month is over, but it is mostly going to be about my feelings, because this is the month I was nominated to leave. *le sigh*

Kindness (of Strangers, Family, & Friends)

Something I forgot to mention in my last post was that after the car accident, I was sitting in my car, just bawling my eyes and shaking. A few minutes later, I heard a knock on my window, and this guy who could not have been any older than I am had pulled over (keep in mind, this is on an extraordinarily busy highway in the middle of a monsoon-like rainstorm) to make sure that I was okay. He told me he wanted to make sure I was conscious and uninjured, because he had been in a car accident a few weeks ago, and somebody random had done the same for him. He and his friend stayed with me until the police came. I am very grateful for their kindness, and hope to repay the favor one day.

This whole scenario has me thinking about kindness, and how much we reach out, or don't reach out, to not only strangers, but the people we already have in our lives. A number of times I have been called silly or stupid for, as one detractor put it, "believing the world is all butterflies and rainbows." I have also been asked what planet I live on (more than once) when I talk about how I do believe people are wonderful and kind, and that we just have to give them a chance to show that part of themselves.

I have been so extraordinarily lucky in my lifetime to have experienced the kindness of strangers, friends, acquaintances, and family. In fact, after my car accident, I was pretty shaken up, so after driving down again the next day (I was attending a 3 day conference), I asked my cousin Ali if I could stay overnight at her house, which was only 10 minutes away from the conference center, as opposed to driving back to my house, which was over an hour away. Her and her husband James welcomed me into their home for the night, and I am so happy and grateful that they did.

One thing I couldn't help but notice with the fact that this stranger helped me by staying with me in the middle of this rainstorm, is that every time my car has caused me some sort of trouble in NJ, somebody has always stopped to help me, but in LA, every single time my car caused me trouble (which was, I need to point out, often), not a single stranger stopped to help me, albeit, my friends and sorority sisters did help transport me when I needed it. I try to pay that back as well.

I have more stories of the kindness of strangers, including the kindness of strangers abroad, but before I embark on that post, tell me, dear readers, what are your experiences with the kindness of strangers? Have you ever stopped for somebody you didn't know?

I hope your weekend is going well!

Fear

I cannot stop crying right now. I was in a car accident tonight that was extraordinarily scary, where I thought I was going to die, and I keep randomly bursting into tears. I think this is how I am coping. Perhaps, if/when I get into the Peace Corps, I will be glad to be rid of driving for two years, as opposed to being upset about it. I love to drive, but after tonight, I am extraordinarily shaken up.

I think the funniest thing about this accident tonight is the fact that my life didn't flash before my eyes; my future evaporated before my eyes. It was like "medical school? *poof*! extensive traveling/Peace Corps? *poof*! a chance at a family? *poof*! being a success? *poof*!" I can't be the only one this has happened to, right?

It was startling, and I think it says a lot about where my focus is. Always on the future, always ready to plan something new. My biggest fear is honestly not being able to accomplish everything that I wish to accomplish in my lifetime, of dropping out of school, of messing up my life, of disappointing myself and the people around me, of never being able to travel outside of the country for an extended period of time again.

I look to travel to keep me sane, and yet I also fear for the worst when I do travel. It is an interesting way to look at life.

Rejection

Sorry for the 3 month gap. Life got a little sad, and a little hectic. I promise I will update y'all on the Peace Corps stuff, but first, I would like to muse about rejection. Yes, this is supposed to be a travel blog, but I will tie it all together, I promise.

The more I get used to being rejected (by organizations, potential partners, even longtime friends), the more I realize perhaps a traveling life is for me. Rejection hurts. It is something that a person needs to get used to. It is something that makes me, personally, question my core values. What did I do wrong? Did I say the wrong thing? Have all the activities I have been doing for the past -forever- amounted to nothing? Should I learn to keep my mouth shut? Can I blame my mental illness? Can I blame the people who caused my mental illness? Why am I even thinking like this? Why can't I just get over it? And so on and so forth into a spiral of anxiety. Welcome to my brain.

Traveling, first and foremost, lets me step outside of this incessant naval-gazing. I like to let the experience, the culture, the language, the people, wash over me. It really brings me outside of myself, forces me to re-examine the way I think through things and the way I see the world and the way I see how people relate to each other. It also makes me re-examine my place in life. Why complain when I have so much?

Traveling also lets me run away. I'm going to be up front here. Sometimes, I like the thrill of a new place and new people and new food and new everything. I'm not really one to settle in one place. Everywhere I go, I fall in love. (Seriously, ask any of my friends. I came back from TZ, "OMG I'm gonna move there." I came back from IRL, "OMG I'm gonna move there." I came back from Nicaragua, "OMG I have to go again, for much longer, maybe for a year.")

Having to move back to the place that I "escaped" from was so disappointing. Don't get me wrong, I love my family and all of my friends in NJ, but I absolutely love LA. I know LA. I'm comfortable there. And now I'm itching to travel again. Being stuck in NJ is a major downer.

If I didn't have student loans to pay off, I would probably take what little money I have and just go backpacking somewhere. Or get a job on a cruise ship. Or learn how to sail, and then work on boats, sailing around the world. Or just WWOOF it up. Or, get a visa, go to Europe or Asia or Africa or South America or Australia, and work while there, little jobs, to have money to just get by. I hate being tied to one place by financial obligations.

So, back to the Peace Corps. The reason it has taken me so long to write this post is because of some majorly disappointing news I got while on my train trip (which, I just realized, I don't think I have detailed for you all! I will! Later!). Basically, because of a misread on the paperwork, instead of lifting my deferment or keeping it as is, they extended it until June. Which means, I probably won't be leaving until 2013, if I qualify for service at all. Hence, this post on rejection.

So, until then, I will be doing as many things as possible to keep myself busy. In fact, these past few months have FLOWN by, and in that time, I have decided to take some pre-med classes, see how I do, and, if I enjoy them and do well in them, pursue medical school.

It's a cliche, but I will close with it anyway. When one door closes, another one opens. Although in my case, I guess I can say I just don't have the key to the door yet, so I'm looking out the window.

I wish everyone a wonderful December! (I will write again before January. promise!)