And so it begins...

The next phase of the Peace Corp waiting game, that is. The application process has been going on for well over a year now, and I was officially nominated almost exactly nine months ago. The journey to this point has been long and frustrating, and the odyssey continues as I try to be patient for an invite I try to remember may never actually come. Who knows what could come up, what 'i' I forgot to dot, what 't' was not crossed. As the last generic letter I received from the Peace Corps said, applications are at their highest and there are just too many people for how many positions there are. I'm hoping though. I really am. Four to six weeks, it said. Hopefully I should know within four to six weeks.

In my restless waiting state, as I procrastinate instead of studying for the Latin exam I have in a week, I enjoy reading the blogs of other applicants and volunteers. Seeing their stories of far off lands, knowing that they have gone/are going through the same frustrations that I went through in the application process helps take the edge off of my anxiousness. It's an anxiety born out of limbo, not knowing what will be happening in a few short months after I'm done with my Masters here in England, where I'll be moving to, what I'll be doing. I feel like I can't even make holiday plans, because if I leave for the Peace Corps in September, like I was originally nominated, I'm probably going to want to return to the States earlier than planned so I can spend more time with family and friends before this great adventure. But if I'm not leaving until October, November, whenever, then I hope to stay in Europe for a while longer, either until my money runs out or my visa does, whichever comes first. I'm just so excited sometimes that I feel like I can burst, and with every day that passes without word, even if I know there won't be a word for several weeks yet, my desire to know what will happen grows.

I have backup plan after backup plan, what I could do if I don't get into the Peace Corps. Plan for the worst and hope for the best, right? I could go to California and live with my sister, working at any job I could find, probably returning to the dreaded food service industry. I could go back to Houston and return to teaching at Harmony, where I could be with the students I miss more than I am willing to admit. I could apply to teach at a university in China, maybe contact the school I worked at in 2007 who offered me that graduate teaching gig in British Literature. No matter where I go, though, I could take French classes, and possibly apply for a PhD, of course assuming this Master's thesis goes well. All else fails, I'm just going to say screw it and go to culinary school. Or run away and travel with the Renaissance Festival.

Ultimately, that's not what I want, though. I want to join the Peace Corps. I want to find myself someplace random, experiencing a new culture, learning a new language. As I also try to learn French, the language I'll need if I do decide to get a PhD. And keep up with Latin, of course.

Maybe the creation of this journal was premature. I was going to wait until I had the invitation in hand, a date and place to announce to the world with excitement and pride, the journey officially beginning. I just can't wait, though. I guess this too is just a part of the journey, as valid as any other.