Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition!

*Sigh.* Just when I thought this was going to be easy.

I got notice on Saturday (why can't it ever be Tuesday or something, when I can do something about it?) that the Medical Office of the Peace Corps needed more information on my counseling. Back when I was doing the medical part of the initial Peace Corps application, I clicked a radial button indicating that, yes, I had at some point received "psychiatric, psychological, or mental health counseling." yes, I have received counseling. I had two really rough patches in 1999 and 2001, both having to do with a previous relationship, and I saw a school counselor both times. I won't get into the details here, but Peace Corps wanted all my documentation with my medical packet and they wanted me to write a detailed (!) account of my mental health history.

SO. Then on Saturday they write to me saying they now need me to go get a psych assessment, with a board-certified psychiatrist, no less, and of course they cannot reimburse me for this. You know how much these people charge per hour? And Peace Corps wants about three of these assessment sessions so the doc can see if I'm sane? We're talking about over $500 dollars here. I don't have that kind of money. I know, people always complain about spending $500 dollars, but I really don't have that money. As I said before, I live pretty poor.

I called the Peace Corps to try and talk them out of this huge requirement. I mean, after all, with that one question they lump everything together -- if you ever had marriage counseling, you have to follow the same procedure for having multiple personality disorder. Everything -- disassociative disorders, OCD, manic-depression, panic attacks -- everything gets lumped into the same category: "I once had some kind of counseling or therapy." No matter if you visited the school counselor for a few weeks over lack of school motivation or you were hospitalized in a loony bin for twenty years for having some kind of psychotic break where you thought you were Napoleon. It's ALL THE SAME THING!

When I talked to the representative of the Medical Office, she pointed out that "conditions in the field" are stressful, yadda yadda. I know this. She said the Eastern Caribbean doesn't pose the same kinds of stress and challenges as other posts around the world. I know that, too. Hell, I'm probably better suited to Peace Corps life than a lot of other volunteers, mainly because, A) I already live a pretty modest lifestyle, at least by American standards, and B) I'm very used to being isolated and alone. I actually like it. Ask my friends and family members... I go weeks and months without talking to them. I know ONE person in Tallahassee. That's it. I'm used to being poor and lonely. I'll be fine. But her fear, and I know they're just covering their asses, is that these environements are stressful and she noted I tend to get counseling when I'm stressed.

Yes, true true. But wouldn't it be worse if I didn't get counseling? What about those who just bottle it all up?

I'm being punished for getting professional advice on a painful divorce. Silly me.

Anyway, I'm getting the counselor I saw to give them a call. Still waiting on the results of that, but I figure if the same guy who did the counseling in the first place can call them and talk some sense into them, maybe I can avoid this snag. Because I don't have the money, nor do I have the time -- it would take weeks to get this accomplished, and by then I'd be missing my "early November" departure date. So hold on, dear readers, because if they won't listen to my former counselor (they damn sure don't trust my word for it!) then I won't be leaving in November after all. And if I don't leave in November, I may not be going until -- who knows? -- next spring or summer or fall, and I won't be going to the Pacific probably.

So major changes... Stay tuned for the stunning conclusion to this week's The Toughest Job!

-Bri

p.s.: think carefully as you fill out the medical questionnaire!

Time Keeps on Slippin'

I'm really starting to get jumpy about my invitation. If you've read earlier posts on this blog, you should remember that my departure date is supposed to be "early November," which I assume could mean anything from the 1st through the 15th. You may also have read that the Peace Corps supposedly cannot send an invitation without at least 6 weeks advance notice. Which makes sense, when you think about it, because would-be-volunteers need a little while to get their lives in order before they go. Well, do the math -- 6 weeks is either NOW or coming up in a very short while. Every day I log onto the Peace Corps web site and it tells me the same thing: my paperwork is still on hold in the legal and medical departments for consideration.

It's really getting scary. I hope I make it in time.

-Bri

Forgive Me

Forgive me reader, for I have sinned. It has been 20 days since my last confession.

Seriously, I apologize for the huge gap. I ended up helping my ex-girlfriend Melonie move to D.C. Yes, she's an "ex" now, sadly. Those of you who have read earlier posts on this blog will probably recall the overly-sentimental post from a few weeks back where I consider the end of our relationship. I guess it has to be, otherwise the possibility of wanting to ET might rear its ugly head again -- especially for such a good relationship like the one we had. Man, it was great. But time to move on I suppose.

So what the heck kept me from posting? Well, we spent a good week packing and cleaning her apartment, then we had the spontaneous notion that I should go to DC with her to help her move and unpack. We checked flights, and it turned out we could get a great price on a return trip, so up with her I went. Turned out to be a really good idea, because it allowed that really sentimental part of my brain to get more of a sense of closure than I would have otherwise had by just watching her drive out of my life. I got to see her situated in a new life, got to attach her with a physical location. Anyone who knows me, as I always say, knows how centered on "place" I can be. While I was in DC I got to go down and see our nation's capitol and the Smithsonians as she was at work during the day. I could write a whole lot about that -- I hadn't been there since I was 13, in 1985, and the place is on lock-down. It's scary, really. Security fencing, police everywhere, guards with machine guns, anti-aircraft missiles on buildings... The whole time I was down there I felt very unsafe. I'm sure with every fiber of my being that something horrible is going to happen that will make 9/11 look like a house fire, and DC may not survive. One truck nuke is all it would take. I fear for Melonie, so close to all those hard targets (she lives in Maryland, just over the border). I also felt quite pissed off, I have to say, because security was out of control down there. Bag searches, bomb-sniffing dogs... They won't let you into the Capitol building anymore with *bottled water* or even an EMPTY bottle of water. No sprays, no fluids of any kind. Is this the right solution? Is this what we want? Paranoia? A lock-down? Especially because it was our foreign policy that made us the targets we are in the first place!

But anyway, the good news is I got to see all the big sights down there: the White House, the Capitol, the Library of Congress, the Supreme Court, Washington Monument, Lincoln Monument, the whole shebang. Hell, I saw were the Forest Service is based! I spent Tuesday the 7th WALKING all over downtown DC and the Mall, and I saw dang near everything that day. My feet were killing me. Damn, but my dogs was barkin'. Then the next day I did it all again, this time taking in the Smithsonians (American History, what parts of Natural History I didn't get to see with Melonie a few days earlier, and then especially the Air and Space museum). Two days spent walking. I must have logged about 15 miles all told -- no joke.

So I came back the 9th. My 33rd birthday was the 8th, by the way... happy birthday to me. Yipee. My birthday gift was the last night of my relationship with Melonie. It was surreal, laying there with her and realizing when we wake up we won't be together anymore. I got pretty choked up, both then and the week before while we were packing, but I'm okay now. I think I'll be okay.

And for those of you following the hurricane season, no, I wasn't in Tallahassee during Frances, and yesterday Ivan only grazed us with some stiff wind and rain and lots of blowing leaves. Nothing major. I'm safe, fine, and comfortable. Maybe I'll get out of Florida yet without experiencing another hurricane (I was in Andrew, out of a strange coincidence, back in 1992).

-Bri

Second Thoughts

... No, not about the Peace Corps. I'm having second thoughts about agreeing to teach this fall. I'm an adjunct English instructor at Tallahassee Community College, a job which pays me about $1600 dollars per class. Normal course load is two or three classes. Keep in mind that these semesters run approximately four months long, so that works out to about $800 a month, or $200 a week, for two classes. There aren't many places in America where two hundred a week will get you by. Thank goodness I live under cheap (read: "poverty") conditions, where my share of rent is only $250 a month. (Wow -- I never thought I'd utter the words "thank goodness I live in poverty!)

Last spring I had the fortune to teach two classes at a local private high school; I say fortune because the kids who go there are really good students and very disciplined, bright, and eager, so teaching them is a pleasure. It's a Christian school, and anyone who knows me might think that would cause some antagonism, but I'm actually fine there and I don't make waves. I was told at the outset that there are "certain things" not to discuss, such as anything too sexual in content or -- especially -- anything that might cast doubt or dispersion on Christianity. The sex stuff I understand, because these are still high school kids (I teach a college composition course so they are technically dual-enrolled and get both high school and college credit for the class) and they are all between about 16 and 18, so getting too explicit about racy stuff isn't something I'd do anyway. Now, about Christianity, I taught a composition class last spring that focused on Argumentation so I made it clear at the beginning that arguments that rely on religion or the Bible have built-in credibility issues -- mainly, that they place the burden of their arguments on evidence that itself can't be proven. They seemed to take that okay.

I'm rambling a bit, but my point was to illustrate what my job environment is like. Now, knowing I'll be leaving in November for the Pacific (*knock on wood*), it doesn't make much sense for me to dive into a four-month teaching gig. That is so much more true when you consider the money I make at it, which is barely enough to keep my head above water. My mom offered to let me stay with her until I go, rent-free, but she lives in West Texas, a place I despise with every fiber of my being. Why? Because it is so deep-country, cattle and stetsons, pickup trucks and Garth Brooks out there. I simply have nothing in common with the people who live out there; in fact, I have diametrically opposed viewpoints. I'm a socialist, they're capitalists. I'm progressive, they're conservative. I opposed the war, and they beat up people who don't like Bush.

But I wouldn't have to consort with the natives, per se. I would live in my family's ultra-isolated ranch house and have the place to myself 5 days a week (my mom works in San Angelo and commutes on the weekends). RENT-FREE. At first I dismissed the idea because I couldn't bear the thought of living in Texas any more than I had to, but lately the reality of it has hit me. I'm destined to head that way anyway, because that's the most economically feasible place to store my stuff while I'm in the PC, and since Melonie is leaving there is nothing for me here in Tallahassee. If I had the money, I'd go on "walkabout," perhaps going down to Miami and living on South Beach until I go, but I don't have that money so I'm fooked. Besides, I'm about a third the way through a new novel and find it very hard to write here, and that would give me ample time to write. There wouldn't be anything else to do -- cable t.v. doesn't extend out that far.

This leaves me with the problem of my teaching gig. I shouldn't have agreed to do it, because they're going to have to replace me anyway come November. Why not find someone now while the semester is new and the students haven't had time to get accustomed to me being their teacher? It's last-minute -- I should have seriously considered this a couple of weeks ago! -- but I talked to my boss today and she seemed okay with it. Maybe that's because they will have a couple months or so to find a replacement... there's no urgent rush.

But -- hey -- my medical/dental packet went out yesterday!!! So now, assuming I don't hit any unforseen snags, it's now all out of my hands. Now begins the waiting. More waiting, that is. I'm encouraged by a timeline I found on someone else's blog, and she had a quick turnaround with her medical, being cleared in like 2 - 3 weeks and getting an invitation soon after that. So maybe it can still happen, even this close to the bone.

Of course I'll keep you all posted. Thanks for reading!

-Bri

The Way We Were

This blog entry is, in a way, a message to myself a few months from now. I guess they all are, when you really think about it, but this one particularly. I'm at a juncture in my life that is very painful and difficult. As I write this, I am sitting on the couch at my girlfriend's apartment (because she is very private, I won't use her hame in my posts, referring to her instead as M). M is beside me, sleeping on the couch, her feet on my right leg. She looks very serene and beautiful. And in one week she'll be gone.

I've been dating M for a year now, almost exactly, and it has been a fabulous time. One of the best years of my life, I suspect -- that's the kind of thing one usually realizes in hindsight, but I have this suspicion I'll look back on this year very fondly for the rest of my life. M is from Jamaica and has taught me so much about the Caribbean way of life. She is also incredibly smart and capable and rational and low-maintenence. She's everything a guy could hope for in a woman. The problem with our relationship, though, has been that she is a Christian and I'm an atheist, and M has pretty much concluded we aren't compatible on the long term for that reason. Forget the fact that I want to move to and live in Hawai`i for the rest of my life, and she wants to move to and live in Washington D.C., or that I can't have children and she would like one or two. Those problems could theoretically be overcome, especially since we both love (and like!) each other very much. But when it comes to religious issues, it ain't a match.

A month ago or so she got a job offer she couldn't refuse in Washington D.C. to work for the CDC. It's where she's wanted to live, and it's a job she's wanted to do for a long time, now. Before that she was planning to remain in Tallahassee and work with a local non-profit that studies demography (her field). But even if she did, we knew it was going to end soon and she had offered "until the end of the summer" to see if there was a way we could reach a compromise. I had agreed to this knowing even at the time that it only postponed the inevitable. We were doomed. It broke my heart. I wanted to stay together just to have as much time with her as I could possibly wring out of this relationship. That's how wonderful she is.

But now she's moving to D.C. in a few days (Sunday the 31st or so) and this will all come to an end. I hate feeling the clock ticking down like this -- it's funny, but when there's some kind of major end or transition looming on the short-term horizon, those hours start to become palpable. It's like I can sense some kind of cosmic hourglass draining all around me. Even that metaphor doesn't quite capture what I feel right now... maybe it's more like how movie heroes must feel watching the last few seconds on a time bomb ticking off as they frantically look for the green wire. Except with me there's no green wire. I'm watching a countdown and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

There are many reasons why this is for the best, and I try to remind myself of them. For one, we were going to break up anyway, so if she stayed in town this fall the end would arrive but she'd be right here to remind me of what I once had. The temptation on both of our parts to let it continue on would be very strong. Also, and this is the best reason of all, if we didn't break up, I'd head off to the Peace Corps in November or whenever and I'd miss her so much I'd be right back where I was last time and that would not be good. It's hard enough for Volunteers to adjust to life in-country without pining for a girlfriend back home. That very thing screwed me up before. I know the danger of it, and I know it's not something I want to go into service hanging over my head. Nevertheless, it's hard to handle the end of an era -- especially a really good one.

Once she's gone, the ghosts will begin. You know -- the ghosts of people and events that one ties with locations. After she moves, I'll never be able to come to this side of town again because I'll feel haunted by the past. It will be too painful to drive past this apartment, because the memories are just too strong. I'm sure I'm not the only person to feel this way; it's the feeling songwriters refer to when they sing about feeling someone's presence in the park where they used to walk, etc. If I drove past her apartment two weeks from now, I would be able to feel her in it, as if all I had to do was park the car, walk in, and things would be the same as they ever were. But they're not; so, driving by would be like picking open a healing wound.

I think this is a common experience, although I think I'm unusual in my proclivity for it: for example, when I was simply driving past a rest stop on my way back from Orlando a while back, I realized it was the place where my mother and I bought some souvenirs this spring when she came to visit me. Suddenly it was as if I could sense her down there -- like all I had to to was take that off-ramp and I'd find my mom still there, browsing the knick-knack isles. This struck me as very odd -- my mom's not dead, and we only spent like 20 minutes there, so why should I feel so strongly and sentimentally about that place?!?

So anyway, this blog post is really a message for my future self. Somewhere down the road, a few months from now, I'll be at my site, growing more disconnected from this stage of my life and more drawn into life in wherever-it-is, and I'll stumble upon this message in my archives. So, hello, future self. I hope life in the Peace Corps is great and everything we want it to be. I'm jealous of you, by the way -- even though the medical packet it almost done, it's sheer drudgery. You remember, don't you? M is here, beside me, and I'm trying to live in this moment. I love this woman, and she's leaving in just a few days. You have probably dealt with the pain and moved on, but I'm still here trying to deal with it. It's hard. I almost wish I didn't know how much time was left. I'm trying to memorize some of these sights, smells, and these moments, so you'll be able to remember them better. The apartment is a little messy, like always, but it has come to feel like home. The cats are sleeping in the dining room chairs and everything is very quiet. I don't know if you miss this from where you are. It sure feels like I will.

Just remember the good times, I guess. I'll try to make a few more good memories for you in the hours I have left.

-Bri

Nervous

Okay, I've been getting a little nervous lately about whether or not I'll make my "Sometime-in-Early-November" departure date or not. As I mentioned before, I was nominated on the 3rd but, in typical bureaucracy fashion, I didn't receive my medical packet until last Friday (the 13th). That's like 10 days, and they Fed-Exed it! Anyway, so Friday I made some phone calls and discovered that A) all the dentists in Tallahassee have Friday off (except one), and B) the one who was open wouldn't have a spot open until September. Fortunately, I talked to the receptionist and told her my situation, and she thought I was so cool for doing something like the Peace Corps that she told me she can put me at the top of the list for people to call if there's a cancellation. That was nice of her, but come Monday morning I'm still going to make some phone calls and see if I can get anything more reliable.

As for the doctor, I actually jumped the gun a couple weeks ago and got a physical before I received my packet, so I'll have to now go back there and hope they won't charge me to fill out some paperwork. I hope there's nothing in there that wasn't already covered in the physical, because that might mean I'll get charged twice for a physical exam. Also, the damn walk-in clinic I went to hasn't called me back on my thyroid blood test, which means that's two things I have to bug them about on Monday.

Anyway, I'm getting nervous because time is running low. Sure, I still have until "Sometime-in-Early-November," but consider the amount of time it takes to get medical clearance and how long it takes the Placement desk to secure you a spot, I'm pushing the border if not beyond. Hopefully I'll be able to get the medical packet complete and Fed-Exed back to the PC by the end of this week.

I'm also getting nervous because I know what's coming. Sure, I don't know all of what's coming -- I only made it 2/3rds of the way through Training last time -- but I remember the cultural and language and diet and climate struggles and there's a little part of me that is afraid of that. It's like a tiny little voice that tries to argue against the Peace Corps because it's going to be difficult. Obviously not the best of voices to listen to... otherwise I would never take risks and never accomplish anything. Not like I do that enough anyway. But I was thinking: I don't remember this voice last time, and I think that's because A) I was so very, very excited that I didn't have time to get nervous, and B) I had no earthly idea what the Peace Corps would be like so I didn't know what to dread. I kinda miss that old naïvete, I have to admit. In some weird way, it was nice stumbling into an adventure the details of which I couldn't conceive. It was quite a rush, being young and energetic and standing on the edge of an unguessable cliff. Now I know the dimensions of the cliff, or at least some of those dimensions, so it's not as scary and it doesn't hold the same gripping thrill. Some people might read into this to say my heart isn't in this, but I think they'd be wrong. My heart is in this. It's just that it's more familiar, which brings its own set of fears (fear of the known instead of fear of the unknown -- and we all know which is worse).

Want one more metaphor? It's like the second time you ride a roller coaster. The first time was terrifying and mind-blowing. And no part of it was more frightening than that build-up as you stood in line, inching ever closer, and then the fear got ratcheted up a little more as you got strapped into the car, and then it reached a fever pitch as you clanked up the reeeeeally long hill. In this metaphor, I left the Peace Corps 2/3rds of the way up that first hill. So the line and the strapping and the clanking are no longer the unknowns they once were -- I have quantified them. The only remaining unknown is the actual roller coaster ride itself.

-Bri

Margaritaville, October 2002

At Margaritaville
Originally uploaded by hawaiianbrian.

Here is a pretty good picture of me. It was taken in front of the Margaritaville restaurant at Orlando's Universal Studios Citywalk when I was there for Halloween Horror Nights, October 2002. Enjoy!

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

So sang Tom Petty, about twenty years ago or so. Man, was he right. It has only been a few days since my last blog entry, and I can report that absolutely NOTHING has happened in the meantime. Sadly, this is once instance when something was supposed to be happening: I am supposed to get my medical/dental packet in the mail *any day now* so I can dash over to the various and sundry specialists I need to see. But... nothing. That's the Peace Corps for you. They're a government bureaucracy, so everything moves at a snail's pace. I believe I made quite clear in my last blog why getting this packet ASAP is so crucial, so I won't belabor the point here.

I've been thinking lately about the Peace Corps' attrition rate. I got to thinking about it when I was driving and doing some preliminary plans in my head. Very preliminary -- at this stage in the game, everyone who is destined for an assignment later in the year has a ton of things to figure out, like what to do with their car or many boxes of books for two years. But at this stage of the game, all that planning is just filler, something to occupy your mind while you wait for some information to trickle down from Washington, not anything you can actually act upon. Like I couldn't just go out and sell my car next week because I still have 3 months to go -- and that's assuming everything goes as planned. Like everyone else who is entering the Peace Corps or, I daresay, people who are still muddling their way through Training, information is rare and vague when it exists at all, and you spend a good deal of time with nothing but your fertile imagination running off possibilities and fantasy scenarios. So between fantasizing and planning and waiting, this period is very slow and *very* internal.

Where was I? I was doing some planning while I was driving, and part of me hesitated to sell my car. What if I get there and hate it and decide to leave early? Or my position is dropped and they can't find a replacement so I have to return early (it happens)? Or I get sick and have to return early? I would certainly want my car when I got back to the States. That line of thinking suddenly seemed very dangerous to me... I realized that, unless I was careful, I would be building the possibility of bailing on my assignment into my plans. And to do so, it seemed, would be like allowing a very quiet but very dangerous part of my psyche an easy avenue of escape. I know already from experience that volunteering for the PC involves several different mental stages. Once you actually arrive at your host country for training, the excitement switches from anticipatory to sensory -- you are immersed in a sensual and envigorating (and terrifying at times) experience that keeps your mind occupied day and night. But then, after a few weeks of training (anywhere from, I dunno, two to eight?) the newness starts to wear off a little and you start realizing that soon, very soon, you and these wonderful friends you made in training will be sent off in different directions to carve out lives of your own in remote corners of wherever-you-are. That means you'll be alone. Not "alone" as in nobody around, but "alone" as in nobody you can easily relate to around. The only American for dozens of miles, perhaps. This realization is paralyzing, and that's when I suspect most people who ET first get the germ of a thought that they could leave. A germ, yes -- just a little thought that begins in the back of your mind, so small you don't notice it at first as anything but a little discomfort and maybe homesickness. But soon it jumps the gap from subconscious notion to conscious one, and you find yourself entertaining the notion. At first you reject it and call yourself a wimp or that it's just homesickness talking or something, but soon that tiny single voice becomes a chorus in your head that sings anew every moment you are hot or busy or dirty or annoyed or exhausted, and that's nearly all the time at this point in Training, and all that shame you felt at first seems to melt away. How nice it would be to get away from these people you have to spend every damn waking hour with, to drive on the right side of the road, to eat something that isn't starch and starch and more starch, or to wash your clothes in a machine instead of a river. And then, next thing you know, you are wandering away from the others one night during what should be a fun time of celebration and you are staring at the moon and thinking, Yeah, maybe I should go.

So I was driving and planning and I realized that, unless I was careful, I would be building the tiny little voice of doubt into my plans from the start. Leaving myself the option of returning if things get too bad could very well lead to me doing just that. By saying "I can leave if things get too bad," I leave open for interpretation what constitutes "bad" and that negative, pessimistic, lazy, pampered part of me will grab hold of that loophole like a lawyer and begin the work of getting back to America and my comfort zone before I've even had a chance to really get to know the place I'm sent. However, I also realize that not allowing myself the option to leave "if things get really bad" isn't a good thing either -- if things really do get bad I need to give myself permission to leave. It's all about striking a balance.

So I wonder, then, how many people applying for the Peace Corps do exactly what I've described and build into their plans the germ of doubt that will one day grow into a full-fledged desire to ET?

I hate to sound this do-or-die about it, but I honestly think of this "second chance" as a pretty important litmus test, if you will, of my maturity. Last time I was there, I bailed because I missed my girlfriend, a relationship that wasn't even healthy to begin with, and if I hadn't been so quick to jump out of there the distance might have really helped me realign my priorities and help me see that relationship for what it was. And as I drove, this got me to wondering if I might have gotten my reasons for leaving the Peace Corps backwards last time. At the time, I told myself that 90% of why I wanted to go home was because I realized I could either have the Peace Corps or my marriage, but not both. Part of that statement was true. I told myself that the remaining 10% was from fear that I wouldn't be able to do the job they switched me into (elementary education, when I had NO experience in teaching or with children at that point in my life), displeasure at my post (I was going to be living in one of the poorest areas of all the Eastern Caribbean, with no water and spotty power, while others on Dominica would be living in town with air conditioners and cable t.v.), and the dread of having to do two more weeks of a homestay (I always feel like I'm imposing). I wonder, though, if it might be that those other reasons were what was behind my desire to ET, and I allowed my heartbreak at missing Michelle to become the convenient excuse I needed.

Well, whatever might have been the case, that part of my life is over. I want to use that experience as a way of armoring myself against all the difficulties I know I can expect this time. I know that at some point I'll feel homesick, tired, hot, hungry, etc. and I don't want to allow the nagging doubt to even enter my mind. I want to be strong this time.

I'll sell my car.

-Bri

Nomination

It has been a long time since my last blog entry -- that does not bode all that well for the future. Of course, during the application process things don't change all that fast, so for a good long while there has been nothing to report. Now, however, I can officially say I am a Peace Corps nominee. I was nominated on August 3rd. My Recruiter, from the Atlanta office, got hold of me last week with some bad news. She cleared all my secondary application information and went into the system to nominate me for the teacher-trainer position in the Pacific, only to discover the position was filled. Awe! So she called me up and told me the good-slash-bad news. Together we went over what positions were left -- a whole lot of them were in "Asia." I don't think I could do Asia, for the same reasons I couldn't do Eastern Europe: because anything too far north would mess me up (I have Seasonal Affective Disorder). After spending a few minutes going through a bunch of dead leads, or live leads that didn't leave until next year, she got an idea: she would call the Pacific Desk (the department that is in charge of Peace Corps positions in the Pacific) and ask them to open up a new, identical assignment for me.

A few days went by. Then, she called me to say they had AGREED and that I was now officially nominated into the job we were originally looking at: teacher-trainer in the Pacific. I still don't know where in the Pacific, exactly, but that knowledge would't do my much good right now anyway, because A) they might switch it on me at any time, and B) because if I don't get the medical/dental/eye package back to them soon, I'll miss it anyway.

A little explanation on how that works: After you get officially nominated, the Peace Corps medical desk in Washington, DC, sends you a thick-ass packet that contains forms to be filled out by a doctor, who must perform a physical on you. It also contains similar forms for a dentist and an opthomologist. This packet comes via snail-mail (the U.S. Post), and once you get it you need to arrange doctor visits, etc., fill out the forms, then send them back. In my case, my departure date is "early November," which is about 3 months from now (!). According to Peace Corps literature, it can take the Medical desk up to eight weeks to clear you, and they cannot send an invitation less than six weeks before the departure date. Do the math: that means about a week to receive the packet, six weeks for them to review my medical information, then receive and accept an invitation more than six weeks before the departure date. I have 3 months until "early November," so considering two of those stages take a month and a half each, I will have ONE OR TWO DAYS to get all the medical/dental/eye information finished and sent back. That's cutting it damn close. If the medical people want to follow up on anything in my physical, that will basically mean I miss my departure date.

Anyway, enough of that. I'm very excited and hope hidden snags do not lie between me and my desired assignment. I love the Pacific, and would be more than happy to be assigned there.

Secretly, I do have a couple of preferences, though: I hope my assignment is in Samoa or Tonga, maybe Fiji, and islands like Yap or Chuk or Palau would be lower down that list. The Phillipines, while having some of the world's hottest women, would be acceptable but not desirable. Frankly, depending on the assignment, I would rather just be sent back to the Eastern Caribbean -- I mean, I would MUCH rather have an urban assignment over a rural one. I've read some blogs out there in cyberspace-land about people assigned to remote, rural settings in the Pacific, and it doesn't sound pleasant. Scratch that -- it sounds pleasant in some ways, but no power, spotty water from a well, and an unbalanced diet would be a killer for me. I mean, I'm going to bring a laptop and digital camera, so I would want power at least a few hours a day. Fortunately, if I get the job I'm gunning for, I'll probably be in an urban setting, because that's where the greatest concentration of teachers to train would be.

This blog entry is now starting to run a wee long, so I'll end it here. Iin the future, I'll try to fill in some of the missing information. One of my goals with this blog is to give prospective Peace Corps applicants an idea of what to expect, step by step -- something that might have helped a lot when I was first applying years ago.

-Bri

The Application Process

I just finished what amounts to "Phase Two" of the application process. I swore this time I would have it done faster than last time, but -- due to no fault of my own -- it took like almost three damn weeks to get it back in! I guess that's faster than my month from last time, but it's hard to feel at east with the passage of time when my recruiter is trying to get me into a position that might fill.

If you're planning on joining the Peace Corps, I can tell you how the application process works in a nutshell: there are approximately four phases, each with different requirements from you than the last. The first phase involves the initial application. This application is much like what one might fill out for any job -- vital statistics, work history, references. It also involves a questionnaire about one's volunteer history. Fortunately, I had a few volunteer positions to draw from, including most recently being a camp counselor in Hawai`i. The initial application also comes with a very detailed questionnaire about one's health, asking yes/no questions about heart conditions, skin conditions, diseases, surgeries, etc. etc. etc. The first time I applied to the Peace Corps this process was all done on paper -- and had to be TYPED. With a TYPEWRITER. Now they've got it all online, and the prospective applicant can easily bang most of it out in just an hour or two. What takes the longest are the two essays you have to write: one is about your reasons for joining the Peace Corps and another is about a time when you had a meaningful interaction with someone from another culture. For some, these essays take a while but I think I was able to write mine in about an hour and a half. What added to my time was that I felt I needed to include a third essay describing by reasons for quitting the PC the first time around.

Anyway, the second phase comes a few weeks later. Your application makes its way to the hands of a local recruiter, and he or she calls to arrange an interview and to start you on the next round of paperwork. This second packet contains a fingerprint chart, a couple pages to further clarify certain bits of information in the first application (like student loans and volunteer work), and most importantly, it contains forms for letters of reference. You need to select three people: A) a current boss, B) a volunteer supervisor, and C) a friend. There is a little leeway here, but you definitely need three. This is down a little from the four I had to do before (the teacher reference has been removed), and my recruiter says the PC used to require SIX! In my case, this packet also included a request for divorce information, primarily concerning alimony and division of property information, but fortunately I owe nothing (in fact, my ex owes ME money) and that won't be a problem. What sucked was waiting for the attorney to send copies of my divorce decree which, for some bizarre reason, I didn't have in my files.

What I can now look forward to is a medical and dental checkup packet, phase three, and then an actual invitation, which is phase four. Of course I'll expound on those as they come up.