Hello 2 AM. We meet again. The fan is blaring and I'm listening to "Young Blood" by The Naked and the Famous, who, besides having an awesome band name, are actually pretty good. Half of the song's lyrics are a high pitched "Yeah yeah yeah yeah" and the other half is filled with angsty lyrics about being young and screwing the man. Ooh now Louis is playing. Good old Louis Armstrong. Did you know he wore a Star of David around his neck and loved the Pope? He was like a modern-day Pi Patel. I wish I could marry his voice. Hold me close, Louis, hold me close.
I wish I had new exciting shiny stuff to update but it is all pretty mundane. The Census job ended two weeks ago. I know it sounds lame but I honestly, truly LOVED what I did. We met in Panera every morning. I worked with teachers, phD students and former Peace Corps volunteers. We sat around the table talking about cases for 10 minutes and then talking about anything from ghosts to strippers to politics for the next hour or so. I loved going door to door to talk to people- my natural nosiness and eye for detail was put to good use. I loved getting to see all the different neighborhoods of Montgomery County. I even liked the time I tried to walk up to a house that was either owned by a drug dealer or gang, but was warned by another neighbor not to go there because "very bad men live there." It was like being a sleuth in a movie. A Census Sleuth. Knocking on the Truth's door. Finding out the population. Conquering message-machine-avoiders and shade-drawers.
The Peace Corps process is going lovely. By lovely I mean I would like to rip my hair out of my head and light it on fire. It is moving at the same pace as Pat Robertson's speeches: extremely slow, and I never quite know what is going on. After three long appointments with my dentist, I got the X-Rays. I mail them in only to learn that they want the original copy of the X-ray, even though I was told on the phone that the copies are fine. The Peace Corps website says we should use this opportunity to practice our PATIENCE SKILLS. Being patient is pretty difficult in the DC Area. If you hesitate to make a turn, you get a honk. If you wait too long in the line at Starbucks, you get a bunch of yuppies clearing their throats loudly while the barista looks at you, saying "Excuse me maam what can I get you?" Patience doesn't fit in to people's Blackberrys and Metro commutes. It is a skill I seldom, if ever, use.
But I'm finding patience to be more and more necessary, not just for the Peace Corps. For life. I look around and see friends moving into apartments with people their age, friends buying bunnies and even dogs, and friends getting married. People are growing up. They are becoming adults, paying rent, starting 401 Ks, and procreating. And I am sitting in my sister's room, unemployed, in my dad's house . It's not the life I envisioned for myself at 23. I thought I'd be wearing a lot of black and working in some human rights organization by now. I'd visit Sephora and Anthropologie regularly and have my own apartment and bulldog. But as for now, it's shared living space with the Olds. No hang out room. No parties. No little bulldog. Just an ice queen stepmom and a neurotic Jewish mom father. So instead of going crazy, as I often want to do, I have to be patient. Hopeful. Jesse Jackson said "Keep Hope Alive" and I do it, day after day. I think about the people with no homes and food, people who don't have anyone to talk to and watch the Shopping Channel all day, and then I feel better. Because it's easy to feel like a 20 something burnout but really, many of us are all in the same Great Recession boat. I'm not grown up, but I am hopeful. It's a start to a lonng ride.
