Peace Corps Quitter

I suppose I should write something here before I leave for the US and neglect this thing for a month, during which time my proud trend of 10 hits per day will dwindle to 0. I've seen the look of doubt and anxiety in some of my friends' eyes here, the reflection of their concern that 26 days in the USA is a long time away from the lovely life in Georgia I've come to know. Long enough to detach myself from it completely, they think.

My current mantra along these lines is that if I go to the US for 26 wonderful days and then return to my life of always-successful grassroots work in a developing nation, those 26 days will become cemented in my mind as the most enchanted, delicious 26 days of my life, bumping out that day when I went to an amusement park AND saw a Weird Al concert. If, however, I become tempted into extending my time of free-rolling fun and Jennifer-level debauchery (a relatively low level indeed), I'll get the pleasure of watching it dissolve into the mundane American life of a Peace Corps quitter-- entry-level job if I'm lucky, sharing an apartment with 10 people, wishing I still lived overseas... and to boot, unable to sustain the standard of living I had during my ecstatic 26 days. I'll call my friends from college to get together again, like we did when I was just visiting, only they'll be busy with work, or even tired of getting together and doing the same crap every weekend just because I haven't moved on yet. No one's especially interested in hanging out with a Peace Corps quitter who hasn't adjusted to her circumstances yet, and who still hopes everyone will pay for her.*

The other possibility, which is highly likely, is that I'm making too much out of this America trip in the first place and that it will be enjoyable, but not orgasmic-- and the space between "enjoyable" and "orgasmic" is sufficient to deem that a "major disappointment." Of course Mom misses me, and Minnesota will be delightful with her and my sister, and Dad misses me too, but I'll probably face the reality that life has moved on without me for most, as detailed in the last whiny post about America. Indeed 14 months is not a lifetime of separation, but 22-year-olds jump a lot of hurdles after graduation, and while they're bonding over that, all I have to say is that I left the track entirely. I can only hope that the one-week blocks I've designated for each US destination are sufficiently short that I don't lose my novelty.

So kargad iyavit to all 3 of my blog readers, and I'll let you know how it went. Hint: that means you have to come back and check this thing in a month. By the way, this is for everybody I see in the US: I KNOW I GAINED WEIGHT. Don't remind me about it or I'll sit on you.

* Not that I hope people will pay for me this time around... I... uh...