Day Five Hundred & Eleven

Day Five Hundred & Eleven
Saturday, October 29th 2011

The past few days I have been sick, once again, with food poisoning. This is certainly one aspect of Peace Corps life that I will not miss when my service has ended. My bismuth tabs ran out on day one & my calcium carbonate ran out long ago. Luckily, Sadie & Brian were willing to spare some Pepto Bismol tablets. However, the entire affair was abysmal & I have barely eaten in three days.

This past month, I toyed more & more with the idea of staying a third year. A friend of mine had mentioned she was thinking about it, which got the cogs in my head turning once again. Now, however, I'm leaning away from this decision. I fear that I am once again opening the doors of the “Mid-Service Crisis” that no one ever told me about. What am I supposed to do with the rest of my life? What am I supposed to do with the next three years of my life? Two?

The most logical step is graduate school, although this brings an onslaught of worry in & of itself. First of all, I cannot finance such a venture, & while the possibility of a Peace Corps fellows scholarship exists, I find myself weary at the thought of relying on such a fantastic game of chance to pull through. I have certainly thought that the idea of teaching abroad in Korea would sate this financial distress, since I simply cannot stand being in debt, but the loss of language once again, the unfamiliarity of surroundings, & most importantly, the distance from my family weighs heavy on my conscience. However, if I were to attend graduate school in, say, Washington state, Boston, or Baltimore, would I not be distant from my family likewise? ISU, my Alma Mater, is still a possibility, but one I do not necessarily always revel in thinking about.

I think that two years of Peace Corps service is an adequate amount of time for me to do what I want to do, to exercise my love for volunteerism, & to be able to experience first-hand another time, another place, another land, another culture, & another language. I am thankful for every minute I've been given here, but a part of me feels extremely unprepared for what lies ahead. How many times has my mind retreated to the idyllic idea of perhaps living with my Grandma Anne for a few months in hopes of writing her biography? How many idle dreams have comforted me in the thought of attending ISU again, though that magic may have since disappeared entirely?

I know for certain that America is extremely expensive. In a way, this broadens horizons rather than limits them, because since the expense will exist anyway, I may as well make my next move to a place where I will be happy (prospectively Washington state or Boston, though wouldn't Colorado be divine?). I know for certain that I have no interest in places like Los Angeles or New York, so at least my choices are within reason. Give me a Boston or Seattle-sized city of 600,000 & I might be happy. I need a change of scenery. I don't think I'd be happy right now getting a Real Job with a Real Salary. That's not me, though money would alleviate much of my self-induced anxiety. (It can't be helped.)

Is there a high-paying job that allows me to travel at will, crochet my heart out, sew, write letters, read news articles, experience new cultures, eat Trader Joe's food, see my family on a regular basis, blog, have access to sparkling silver taps where hot water flows freely, paint, touch the keys of an actual piano daily, have a window garden, be in an educational environment, & meet wonderful people? I'm willing to email my résumé at any time. Honestly.

& now I'm back to that round-about argument in my head of healthcare, transportation, housing, & all those other nuances. If not for those pesky regulations, I very well could just throw up a ger anywhere I pleased & live relatively cheaply. So, what's more important? If I could see my family on a regular basis, would I? Yes, of course. But this would be much more stressful if I were in a situation where I had to worry about health care costs & making ends meet with rent (preferably not in a shabby little apartment in downtown Big-Box City where you drive down Main Street & under a barrage of stoplights you are confronted with Wal-Mart, Target, McDonald's, Burger King, Starbucks, Noodles & Co, Wal-Mart, Target, McDonald's, Burger King... Am I repeating myself?).

So why not just up & leave for Korea or a similar location then? It's only another year or two, right? But my youth is fading quickly. I'm surprised I don't see gray already. & while round-trip airfare sounds nice in theory, & while a $30 pair of prescription glasses would be brilliant, I wonder sometimes if I'm limiting myself. In spite of my exterior of independence & individualism, I don't want to be alone.

I think I make a great journalist-blogger-podcaster extraordinaire, which would be all the more inspiring if only I could get paid to do so. Archimedes once said something to the effect of “Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world.” Well, give me a decent salary & a fast internet connection, & I shall criticize the world. Why, oh why, am I still battling the ultimate “What do I want to be when I grow up?” question in my mid-twenties? The moment is imminent where I will throw up my hands, unable to decide with any semblance of reason, & I will simply move to Europe. This, of course, is the logical solution to any harrowing quandary, non?