Another Update (May 2012)

So as of right now, I think, after my deferral is up for appeal again at the start of next month, I am not going to jump right into getting all of that stuff done. One, I think I want to push back my leave date by about a year, and two, I have a great job and I love it. Right now I tutor. I absolutely love the feeling of helping somebody succeed; there is almost no greater feeling in this world. I already promised two families that I would be in NJ through the next school year for their kids. I don't like to break these promises. Also, I will be taking a full course-load of classes at a local University to do all of the fun Pre-Med stuff that I never did at 'SC. I really want to finish all of the pre-reqs for Medical School before departing for the Peace Corps. I think this is the best option for me, especially because I want to start applying while in the PC. It seems strange to want to push back the Peace Corps by a few more months after being devastated that they deferred me for far longer than I would have liked or that I found comfortable at the time. I guess there may be a reason for everything on this small ball of chaos floating in space. I hope everybody is having a wonderful May! I will write about my trip to LA in my next post!

Death

So here is the post on death as promised!

Death is an interesting topic, especially in terms of traveling or even being far from the one who is dying or has died.

My aunt died in early 2009. She lived on the other side of the country. The last time I saw her was Thanksgiving of 2008. The last time my mom (her sister) saw her was summer of 2008. We knew she would not make it to another Christmas, but we didn't realize how soon she would pass. My mom had actually made flight arrangements to see her, but she died a week before my mom was going to fly out there.

When I learned of her death, I couldn't believe it. Of course I knew it would happen (she had cancer), but I didn't realize how soon. I thought I had more time, more time to hear her stories, more time to take pictures of/with her, just... more time. I think of all of the things I could have said or did differently, if only to make her a little more comfortable. I think a lot of us do that when we are in mourning. "What is the last thing I said to her?" "Does she know that I cared?" "How is everybody else doing?"

Death has been on my mind a lot, mostly because of the two car accidents I have gotten into in the past 5 months. It is just terrifying to know that what you are working so hard towards can be taken away at a moment's notice.

I think I have a weird relationship with death, mostly because I don't believe in the after life. I believe that the time we have is the time we have, and we should make the best of it while we can, do what we enjoy, and just live. I didn't even realize I had such a worldview until Niall pointed out that not once did I mention seeing my aunt again during the speech I wrote for her memorial service. It makes sense, really.

I'm sure that this is also why death affects me in the way that it does. Anybody who knows me can tell you that I am a big crier. I cry when I am happy, when I am angry, and especially when I am sad. It's a weird achy feeling, a hole, a pain.

Anyway, I really wanted to write about this topic because a soldier from my town recently died while serving overseas. My town is tiny (1.09 sq mi), everybody basically knows everybody, and people really care about each other here, as I explained in one of my previous posts. When the body of the soldier was driven through town, there were people lining the streets, all of the street lamps had yellow ribbons tied around them, and you couldn't walk a foot without seeing an American flag. It was a beautiful display of solidarity.

It also hit me hard, not because I knew the soldier (I know the family, in the way that you know a family that has grown up in the same small town as you), but because he was so close to coming home. He was a little over two weeks from coming home. His sister had arranged her wedding so that he could attend. Really, the circumstances are just sad.

And bringing this back to the Peace Corps, or traveling in general, I always wonder what would happen if I died abroad, or while serving in the Peace Corps, or while flying across the country to visit friends. In my mind, I know that anything can happen so I shouldn't worry about it, but I still worry because I do travel so much...

When I first started to really research the Peace Corps, I wanted to see how many people had died in service, and how they had died. Now, that sounds morbid, and it probably is, but this is how my mind works: plan for the worst case scenario, and be pleasantly surprised when everything works out fine. Here are some stats for you:
- Since it's inception in 1961, 284 volunteers have died.
- Over 200,000 people have served, therefore, the death rate is less than 0.2%.
- Number of deaths in the last five years: 2011-5, 2010-2, 2009-3, 2008-2, and 2007-4.
- Various ways death has occurred: motor vehicle accident, murder, accidents on site, natural causes, illness, and I believe I also read of one volunteer being eaten by a crocodile, one getting trampled by an elephant, and one dying from a shark attack.
- If you want more information, http://fpcv.org/ is a great resource. It is dedicated to every PCV who has lost his or her life.

So, death happens. But so does life.

My biggest fear is that somebody I love will die suddenly while I am abroad. My grandparents are old, and I've seen enough tragedy to know that even young people can be struck down in their prime by very unfortunate circumstances.

I just hope, when I eventually get through medical and get invited, that my "good-byes" to those I love are not last "goodbye"s but rather, "see you later"s.

All Types of Training

Yes, I know. I said my next post was going to be about death. However, I have something else on my mind, so I thought I would share.

We spend so much time being trained in life. School is training for the future. Various job positions have a few days or a few weeks of training before you are on your own. Many volunteer positions require either training or a solid background in something in order to not be trained. Training is a big part of our lives, whether we realize it or not.

Today, I completed my second day of training for a volunteer position on an online hotline. In my life, I have been trained to: help a woman at birth, volunteer on a phone hotline, teach sex ed to middle school students, teach HIV/AIDS education to high school students in a different country, set up for and clean up after a Catholic Mass or Wedding, work as a receptionist, drive students around, speak appropriately to young ladies, bartend... really, any number of things.

In all honesty, I find any sort of training fascinating, but then again, I love to absorb information. From what I have read, the Peace Corps training process is intense and exhausting. For those who don't know, the PC training is a 2-3 month long process, where you are not only trained in what your "sector" is, but also taught the language of the place you will be, as well as, from what I have gleaned, various other topics related to service.

I am so excited to one day go through the entire thing. I know I am technically still in the application process (ugh, deferrals), but I can't help but hold onto that dream. One day, it will all be worth it. And one day, when I come back and complain about how much work training is, and how it exhausts me, I'm going to read this entry. Because it is worth it!

Updates

I just wanted to let everybody know I added an "About Me" tab up at the top there. I also updated my "Peace Corps Timeline" (which I'm going to update again as soon as I find the letter they sent me 3 months ago) and my "Helpful Hints" tab. Feel free to peruse, browse, comment, or anything. It's a reminder I'm not just talking to myself on here!

:-)

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.

...

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.

...

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.