The PC's Like Going From VCR to DVD

What was the Peace Corps like?

Well, it was like…..it was sort of like……pretty much it was like going on vacation. Except for a really long time and you don’t have any money and it’s not nearly as much fun and you’re kind of just waiting around for it to be over but you feel like The Shit while you’re there and even when you get back, if you want to impress someone, all you have to do is slyly mention that you were a Peace Corps volunteer doing development work in a faraway country and automatically you’re cooler than anyone else at the table. Unless you’re at a table with an astronaut who’s been to the moon. Astronauts always win. I try not to associate with them.

It’s kind of like that.

How to sum up 2 years, 11 weeks of your life in a few sentences (or paragraphs if the person asking is really asking and not just trying to be polite)?

It was frustrating and boring and really hard. I found the language challenging, the culture emotionally intense, and I didn’t end up doing many of the things I imagined myself doing. I cheated a lot and, instead of integrating into my community, spent the weekend in other towns with other Americans.

I loved the people and hated them. I could feel both simultaneously cuz I got to know them - really got to know them –talked about the culture and the ideals and the social norms constantly, dissecting with fellow PCVs the dynamics of a place that we couldn’t accept (always aware of our own arrogance while at the same time convinced we were right). I loved the people because the ones I met, the ones that touched my life and I’ll never forget, were wonderful. I couldn’t help but think that in many other places they would do so much better for themselves and yet I was so glad they were there because their country really needed them. DevelopingCountry was a better place with them in it as they provided a sense of hope – hope being that tortuous thing that every place and person needs but doesn’t trust completely.

Yet for some inexplicable reason I now feel restless. I know, many of us know, that if we had the opportunity, we would leave the life we have now, jump on a plane with nothing more than a few pairs of clothes in a backpack and travel to some new developing place and not feel an ounce of trepidation. On the contrary, it would feel right. We would know we were just where we were supposed to be and the lack of stability would be comforting – it being an adventure that makes all of the questions marks in our life seem insignificant, like semi-colons that no one ever uses or trusts.

But instead, I’m being a grown-up with this story from my past that’s too long to actually be a good story that people would listen to.

The Peace Corps was like pushing the pause button on  your American life, living a completely different one, and then coming back to push play – except that all the images on the screen look different now and you want to push pause again.

Or maybe it was like something else. What do I know?

-Age

The Beginning of the End...Of My 20s

You know how sometimes you’re encouraged to consider life in perspective? For example, whenever life gets you down people will mention that you live in New York City and you have loving friends and family but there are people all over the world starving, suppressed, and far worse off than you are right now. So perk up! That’s completely legitimate. Helpful even, at times. But it doesn’t really get to the root of the problem you’re having. It doesn’t make your life better it just makes your life seem better in comparison to, well, complete and utter tragedy. As far as I’m concerned, if you get to the point where you need to start weighing your life against the lives of those who are forced to face a living hell every day then you probably do have something to worry about.

I try not to compare. It doesn’t seem fair to either of us.

I’m currently a little low. This happens. It’s not a cry for help or a need for any kind of reassurance (In fact, it makes sense that these moments come out in this medium because I write when I feel strongly about something and the writing of it usually helps immensely because all I want, all anyone really wants, is for other people to know me and I write my feelings and thoughts much better than I say them). I know what my life looks like right now – what’s good, what’s bad, what needs improvement, and what should make me proud. I know how much I weigh and the length and color of my hair. I’m pretty familiar with me. I’m just a little low.

What I’m worried about is balancing. Balancing all the important aspects of A Life. The type of life I think I’m supposed to have and the type of life I want. It’s not very harmonious currently and I’m not entirely sure what to do about it. I could blame grad school and rightly so as it consumes so many of my waking hours. However, I’m 29 years old and I’ve never had a real job, never been in a serious romantic relationship, and still couldn’t tell you with any kind of certainty where I’ll be in two years let alone five. There’s more than grad school to blame here. 

I could try blaming my parents. That something in the raising of me went horribly wrong and now I can’t grow up. But that’s not fair either because I think being a “grown-up” means that you are responsible, respectful, kind, generous, honest, and goal-oriented with meaningful relationships and an ability to see yourself for who you are and continue to make changes – all things my parents raised me to be and believe in. 

I don’t know what it is. I’ve made great strides to overcome my shyness and I’m doing fabulously. I talk to lots of people (even initiate conversation!), I make friends (albeit slowly), I can take the lead, input my opinions, laugh and play and get serious and be real. However, what I’ve noticed is that people my age or older tend to intimidate me. I spent most of my life with friends my age and we get along just fine. My best friend doesn’t intimidate me of course and we’re only months apart in age. However, in the Peace Corps most of my friends were a few years younger. Here, in graduate school, many students are a few years younger. I feel a connection to them because we are at similar places in our lives, however, the strides I need to be making socially are the types of strides that put me in contact with people my age. I need to be able to relate to someone on the same level in more substantial ways. That is currently hard to find and I’m struggling. 

Here I am again, grappling to find a conclusion for this post. Probably because there is no conclusion. I have no bright ideas or epiphanies as to how I should tackle this problem. I won’t compare myself to any of the women in Half the Sky because that would only serve to disrespect their heroism. In fact, I’m sure they’d have great advice for me. They’d probably say something like Get over it already! Jeez! Or maybe not. Maybe we’d strategize a plan to get me feeling more like a consonant adult. Then I’ll do that plan, it’ll work, I’ll write a book about it, and become a multi-millionaire, helping other late-20-somethings like myself! Perfect. 

-Age