Elusive Diversions

elusive exclusivity – hey, it rhymes

About five minutes ago, after many long hours filling in the application, reviewing the application, and of course writing the two essays, I finally submitted my application for the Peace Corps.

Now, I just need to sit back and wait to be contacted by a recruiter (3-4 weeks is what we’re told online, but an email I just received says two weeks). Of course, I will be an active applicant, not simply waiting for things to come to me. This is, after all, a job just like any other, if not more competitive. I am bummed that it took me so long (almost two months!) to complete the application; I expected to take merely a couple of weeks. However, I wanted to put a lot of thought into what I wrote (regardless of how the essays sound to others, I feel good about them), and often times, writing just needs to flow naturally. Forcing myself to write was making me crazy.

At the same time, the delay in submitting my application gave me opportunity to stew on the choice I was making. Just the other day, while reading “The Geography of Bliss” by Eric Weiner (a non-fiction about one man’s travels in search of what makes the world’s happiest places so happy), I enjoyed a chapter on the world’s least happy country: Moldova. I bring this up because he wrote a passage about an interview with a group of Peace Corps Volunteers that he had. It was a little scary. Moldova – a former Soviet nation – is, according to scholars, the least happy place to live, and the Peace Corps volunteers he spoke with believed it. I thought to myself, “Gee, that’s definitely one of those countries in eastern Europe that I could be sent to… and, there are other former Soviet nations that may be in similar shape… can I handle that?” The answer I eventually came to was, YES. The Peace Corps is not about having a party in another country. No where is going to be easy or a continuous blast. Whatever experience I may have, should I be accepted as a volunteer, is what I make of it. If I am chosen and am placed in the field I desire (education), then I will find something to keep me going. It is all about helping others as best I can and learning about myself.

I mean, seriously, people live through considerably worse. For example, my brother had to spend a year in South Korea alone, about a month after his daughter was born; and, another year in Turkey a few years later, again apart from his family. I think I can handle two-years being brought down to earth.

Anyone who comes across these last few postings, please keep your fingers crossed for me. I want to do this, more than anything, and as it is a competitive and lengthy process, I will need all the help and support I can get.

Just yesterday, I finally finished the second required essay, this time describing my motivation. In it, applicants are asked to describe why they want to be a Peace Corps Volunteer as well as how those reasons fit with their experience and goals.

Here is my stab:

UPDATE: Turns out, the man driving the vehicle that hit Laura’s car may not have been intoxicated. The initial stories in the paper jumped on the fact that he had a previous DUI on record and made the assumption that he was again driving under the influence. What appears to have been the issue is an old house, owned by the city, which sits so close to the intersection that the cross traffic cannot see highway traffic clearly, if at all. Apparently this has been an issue for the city for quite some time, and, ironically, which is set to be torn down on August 25 for this reason. Unfortunately, that is about three weeks too late for Laura.

My brother’s first wife, Laura, while returning home this morning with her husband’s family, was killed in an automobile accident caused by a drunk driver. She was the only one of the four in her vehicle killed; she was a passenger in the backseat. The driver of the other vehicle, the drunk guy?, yeah, not a scratch.

(Also, about ten years ago, seven months pregnant, and my seven year old nephew in the backseat, Laura’s car was hit by a semi during a snowstorm. She lost the baby. My nephew miraculously had been sitting on the side other than his normal spot, which saved his life.)

Laura and I had never been close and had not seen or spoken to each other probably since she and my brother divorced over sixteen years ago. And, though she put my brother through a lot of heartache and pain, I have always carried a mote of respect for her because of something she taught me, unwittingly. She was great at responding to sudden stressors. I know this sounds silly, but I was maybe sixteen at the time. I and my parents were visiting my brother, Laura, and my baby nephew Christopher, in Hawaii (where my brother was stationed). One day we were waiting in line for something, I think, my mom holding the 8 month old baby. Somehow we noticed that the charm from her necklace was missing – a heart shaped piece of quartz, maybe 3/4″ or more at its widest. My mother was freaking out… my brother was freaking out… my dad and even me to an extent were freaking out… certain the baby had it in his mouth. But Laura, his mother, responded coolly by sticking her finger in his mouth and scooping the stone out. Just like a professional.

I remarked on how calm she remained. She answered by saying something along the lines of, panicking only makes the situation worse. From that day on I have used her words as I too respond to stressful moments when others may panic. Is that not strange, that something so small as a calm response can affect someone so profoundly?

It is strange, now, responding to her death. Like I said, we were never close while she and my brother were together. And seriously? She really did a number on him (and my family – a story for another time perhaps). But I never hated her. I always respected her. And in a sense I was proud of her for starting a new life and family. I think I felt a little sorry for her until then; as if with my brother she had simply fallen into a life that never should have been and then found her way back on track.

I am saddened for her and her family, and most definitely my nephew who just graduated high school in June. Laura worked hard, from what I understand, to keep him on track, ensuring that he stayed in school and worked hard. Regardless of what transpired between her and my brother, she did a good job raising my nephew. She desereved better than to be survived by the drunk driver who took her life.

So… I need to write two 250-500 word essays, answering two questions, in order to complete my application to the Peace Corps. Of course, I’m working far to hard on these, and have procrastinated for nearly two months in compeleting them. Some would say that if I really wanted to join the Peace Corps that it would come naturally to me. Well, that’s not the issue. The topics have come naturally, just writing out them in 500 words or less while answering the questions the way I think they want to hear is fairly daunting.

The first question I have found to be the most difficult, and thus it is the one I forced myself to finish first (normally I would focus on the easier of the two to furhter procrastinate). Here is the topic:

“Peace Corps Volunteers must be open to ideas and cultures different from their own and may need to modify their appearance or behavior appropriately. Give an example (between 250-500 words) of a significant experience that illustrates your ability to adapt in an unfamiliar environment. Please highlight the skills you used and the perspectives you gained. You may draw from experiences in your work, school, or community in the U.S. or abroad. Please list the date(s) of your experience.”

So, how cool am I, posting to my blog from my new iPod touch? See, I’ve never been much of one to keep up with the latest technology, at least in terms of purchasing it. But, when I went to buy myself a new Macbook Pro, using Apple’s “back to school” offer, I couldn’t resist picking up a free iPod while I was there! It’s a pretty cool little device; they call it the iPhone w/out the phone. And that pretty much sums it up. Though, obviously, it includes wireless Internet service. However, b/c it is not a phone, it is only free wi-fi where available. That is to say, so long as the signal is open/ free, I can do things like this! Pretty cool, actually. My only other “gripe” (tough to call these gripes) is that I cannot get used to iTunes & syncing. It seems that to add anything to this device, one must have it in a playlist, AND have the item checked; and, if one wants to keep all the stuff that is already on the iPod, he/she must ensure that ALL those itmes remain checked in the syncing options or else the sync will remove them from the iPod. I don’t know if that’s how it has always been with iPods, but it is really frustrating when I try to do something really simple; I don’t feel like I should have to think, “hey, remember to keep all the I already put on there, on there!” Anyway, it’s all good just to have this FREE & COOL tool. I am now participating in the new cool, for whatever that is worth!

Ciao!

UPDATE: The day after I posted this, when I got into my car, I saw THE CRACK. What had for a long time been just a small rock ‘ding’ in the windshield (high on the passenger side), had overnight sprouted legs. One legs extends to the passenger-side edge, the other is slowly (or is it quickly in the relative time it has taken to sprout in the first place?) moving towards the south/central area of the windshield. Oh, pleasant surprise. AND, I hadn’t mentioned this before, as it had resolved itself… my “service engine soon” light had come on the day after I got my tires changed. It was on until the day after my radiator busted. Well, dreams are just that, dreams. Two days ago, it was on again. Someone is testing me… I can feel it!

Back in mid-May, I had a fairly minor fender-bender in a local shopping center parking lot. The other driver was at fault, yet she turned out to be uninsured, even though she gave me insurance information. She claimed her estranged husband (they were separated) had not renewed the insurance – IN FEBRUARY. However, I was told, by the agency, the policy was cancelled, not dropped. Maybe a mere semantical technicality, but nonetheless too fishy for me. I’ve sent her the estimates and threatened to file a claim in court, but she is damn good at ignoring people (the story is much longer, but I don’t want to get into the grisly details again).

So I am all set to graduate in December of this year, right before Christmas, as long as what my advisors say is correct. But, what does one do with a Bachelor’s Degree in Oral Communication Studies, a minor in English and hopefully another in French? Well, my goal is to teach. Outside of Texas. Preferably on the East Coast. More preferably still, overseas.

Living with my parents has been quite the experience; and, it has had both its ups and downs, good and bad, and dark and light moments. But, one of the most enlightening aspects has been that it is like looking into a mirror of the future as well as the past, and most definitely the present. As much as my parents’ behavior aggravates me – on a nearly daily basis – it serves to open my eyes up to where I come from and where I may well be headed, should I not attempt to change the course. For example, I look at my mother and think (as many women and their significant others do), “Oh lord, I best not turn into that raving madwoman!” Also, I look at her body and cringe at the fact that I seem to have inherited her lack of muscle tone, cottage cheese on every body part, and skin that fails to produce any hue other than white, lobster-red, or sun-spot taupe. Fortunately, if I work hard, I can most likely overcome some of the emotional distress that such “physical disability” causes. However, it is a commonality with my father that I am most recently concerned with not being able to overcome.

And freaked out my parents. Actually, I’m relatively certain that I freaked out my mother, who sent my father out looking for me. I saw him at a distance, walking swiftly up the road away from me, and away from the house, just as I was approaching home. I tried hollering at him, but he didn’t hear. And, I wasn’t absolutely certain it was him, so I didn’t want to chase down some poor pregnant woman out for a stroll herself. Instead, I got home, asked Mom – who had a look of shockise (that’s shock and surprise) on her face – if that was Dad hoofing it along the street. It was. And so I quickly grabbed my keys, hopped in the car, and drove off after him. But, he had vanished in the 1.36 minutes I had taken my eyes off of him.

Earlier today I heard my dad mention that he would be going to the airport later to pick up a rental car for his drive to Austin tomorrow. The airport is about a 20-30 minute drive away, in the opposite direction of Austin; so, when he returns, he has to drive another 20 miles or so to drop off the rental and pick up his own car, then drive that same distance home.

Personally, I think this is a rather silly practice when there are rental agencies significantly closer to home. However, what he chooses to do is nothing new to me. Once, my mother drove him to the airport for the rental car and I picked him up on my way down from my apartment for a visit. That had to be at least five rentals ago. So tonight was another opportunity – yes, I have attempted this before – to question his logic, just a bit. Now, I didn’t do this in a snide or sarcastic manner (trust me, I’ve learned my lesson); I merely played the role of a curious bystander hoping to save him some time, effort, and money (what with gas prices up to $3.25/gallon).