Mbai´ chapa! - I swear that´s a real language

I have a real blog post coming but to hose out there wonderig if I made it, by evidence of this post, I did.

I have all sorts of fun and exciting things to share, when on an english key board that actually functions properly. I think they snuck secret Pece Corps happy juice in the water, because I feel like i have otally drak the koolaid. Not a bad thing, but Ice breakers, camp style activities, and this general level of positivity is not allways my strength. Usually it makes me want to vomit.

On the topic of unfortunate disgetve incidents, all is well health wise. I have 2 years to get sick, but I´ve made it a week and that´s making thgs just that much easier. I otlly have been drinking the water, and trying all the food. Generally things advised against. But hell with it. If I get sick, I get sick. 6 million people drink this water.

I have a much better update to come that´s, well, not a first draft. And to anyone I don´t kow looking at my blog, trying to find out if I´m a spy or my coutry director checking in, HI!!!! Hope you had a good day.

(I swear they warn us about innapropriate jokes/ comments in regards to our blog, pretty regularly.)

I don´t have a ton of access to iternet and am enjoyig not being like in, so updtes might be infrequent

What happens when tomrrow is now today?

Tomorrow I leave the comfort of my own home and Wednesday I leave America. Today I am running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get everything done, but I have stopped to update ya'll.

Many of you have asked for my address, so here it is.

Taylor Schrang PCT
Cuerpo de Paz
162 Chaco Boreal C/Mcal. Lopez
Asuncion 1580 Paraguay
South America

Running water is for pansies.

I need to get on an airplane.

Tired of the emotional roller coaster in anticipation of my departure, I would prefer the emotional roller coaster of actually being there. At a moment’s notice I go from anxious to melancholy and back to “Super stoked.” Right now, I’m numb. Having had every possible thought and emotion in regards to the next chapter of my life, it’s time I actually live the next chapter of my life.

I’m sure my new found ambivalence towards spending two years in poverty is a result of the past six months with little in the way of productivity. This is not to discount this period in my life. I have learned immensely about myself, and others. I fell in love; I learned the upside of being born into upper middle class bourgeois society; and I took the first real break in my young life. For the first time, I floundered.  The joy of unemployment, work I once put my nose up at, and people I would have not otherwise met all had new value.  Already my Peace Corps journey has opened my eyes to a bigger world and given me perspective on my own country.  I reflect on this time with frustration and fondness. I wouldn’t trade it, but I am certainly over it.

There has been sufficient negative in the “break” to make me eager to get back to work. To be working in a way that is mentally challenging and more goal oriented than my daily effort to not simply walk out before my shift is over. Work has been arduous and mindless at the same time. I did not know I could work so hard at something I felt could do in my sleep. I rarely felt that I accomplished anything because, well, I didn’t. Taking solace in friends and climbing, I brought up Peace Corps to anyone who would listen as to remind myself why I chose this.

For all my bemoaning, I look over the past six months and a huge grin crawls across my face. I was in every definition of the term, a “Twenty-something,” i.e. A little lost, overly dependent on my parents, partied a little too much, and responsibility was not high on my list. You know what? IT WAS AWESOME! I ask my adult readers to think of the last time a group of friends broke into your house, drug you out of your bed to go do anything, and you got to respond to their request for adventure with “Let me get my pants!”?  If that has happened to you in the last six months, you are very lucky.

So here I am, days before my departure. In these past months, I have wondered if I’m making a horrible mistake, overly romanticized what is going to happen, worried about what happens after, and covered all the intermittent grey area. I’m unsure how to best articulate what I am feeling now, but I never thought zen and apathy could resemble each other until tonight. So again:

 I need to get on an airplane.

A wierd day.

Last night I found out about the death of Osama Bin Laden probably how many of you did, via text. I didn't even turn on the news. A simple Google search on an Iphone to confirm, and I moved on. (This morning I watched the news and read the newpaper to catch up.)

While I understand what this man is responsible for, I am uncomfortable celebrating death. This is not to suggest that President Obama, his administration, nor the Navy Seals who executed the mission are immoral in any way. I support them, and am really impressed by the reports I hear of the mission.  And yes, I admit to taking joy in the news. I, as we all were, was deeply affected by September 11th and can't help but be glad that the one responsible for it is now gone.  Nonetheless, I have struggled with the GO USA! status updates, and general jubilee surrounding the event since.

A few minutes after my first reaction of joy, I began to realize a man is dead. Osama Bin Laden was a son and a brother, a husband and a father. He was a bad man, but still a man. So I question, have we gotten justice or merely vengeance?

War is ugly and confusing. It is a quagmire of moral grey area. Immediate morality gives way to righteous causes. Right makes might, blends with might makes right, and soon god is on everybody's side.

I do not mourn the death of Bin Laden, but I'm not ready to dance in the street.