Today officially marks the end of my last week of college. For four weeks I've been battered, beaten, rinse cycled, wrung, and hung out to dry. I've taken classes for things I'll never use, and I've taken classes that have changed my life. I remember after my first semester coming home and mentioning that MIT wasn't the place for me. We were at dinner, our old assistant principle/friend of the family was there to dinner. I don't remember how the conversation went but it was filled with compassion, disbelief, and reasons for staying. I ended feeling like I needed to defend my doubts and came up with my mantras that I would keep for the next four years.
I might be happier somewhere else, but I wouldn't have chosen differently.
I'm staying at MIT because of the environment it fosters; it's unique and amazing.
It's MIT.
The real reasons I stayed: because deep down, I knew I could do it, even if I wasn't so sure at the time. I wanted to prove to myself that I could.
It's MIT.
The people. I don't know whether your a current student, alum, or have never been to MIT before, but let me spell it out for you. MIT attracts a special kind of person: someone who is completely driven, masochistic, super intelligent, and has already done amazing things with their lives. Ask almost any MIT student why they got into MIT and they will say two things: 1) I got in by mistake. 2) I did [something amazing, like wrote a textbook for kids on how to program].
My first week at MIT, we were sitting around watching a movie; I don't remember what it was. But I remember being amazed that such conversation could be generated by a movie in a group of teenagers. It was probably something dorky like analyzing whether or not a bomb like that could illicit that sort of explosion, but I was just blown away from day 1. Since then I've discovered that the people here are the kindest, most thoughtful, intense, driven, ambitious, creative people I have ever met. Granted, this doesn't cover everyone, but this is a blanket statement for my view of the people here, meaning it applies to ridiculous amount of them.
To top it all off, we've been through this hell hole together. We've each experienced our love/hate relationship with MIT. We've had our late nights (whether social or for psets) we've had our challenges and our disappointments, and our elations when we finally get that grade on a project we've been working for weeks on. Or our results from a three year experiment get published. The emotional turmoil of this place binds its students together. We all have this common adversary (I don't want to say enemy, because that's not what MIT is; it's more like a challenge) and we're all besting it together.
And now we have. 4 years, 37 completed classes, 186 subjects, 25 finals, and hundreds of papers later, I stand at the end of MIT career. Well lets hope so anyway. Even as I write this, doubt creeps into my mind: did I past that last final? What if I publish this and end up failing a class....... Highly unlikely but possible all the same. O well, I'd probably delete this post to save face. Anyways, I'll keep on with the assumption that I'm done.
Ahead is a crazy future. I found out today that I got the job for the summer that I wanted. Pending I pass my physical next week, I'll be working on one of the city's ambulance companies as an EMT, saving lives. Less than two weeks, I had no idea where I was going to be in a month, what I was going to be doing, or what my future looked like. Now, I'm looking into buying nose ring retainers and skirts along with EMT pants with trauma shear pockets. Life is snowballing into place, exactly where I want it to be. And I couldn't be more grateful. Except for having to pay my credit card bill today, I woke up today with nothing to do. Every morning I wake up feeling like 20 more pounds has been lifted from my shoulders. My friends are leaving, those of us who are still here are living it up, taking advantage of our limited time together. A few months from now, we'll be scattered across the globe.
And my mind returns to Turkmenistan. I feel like this blog should include Peace Corps stuff, so I may have been steering myself in this direction, but still, I always naturally end up contemplating this next chapter in my life. I'm figuring things out and starting to think about details. I filled out my life insurance policy today.... But question, and if you're reading this and you know the please comment and let me know. When I'm in this foreign country, where I have to wear skirts and pants are off limits, what do I wear to go running in!? Do I go running in a skirt? I just imagine buckets of sweat poring down my legs. I'll be my own irrigation system out there. People will know my running trail because it will be a green trail compared to the desert around me. I'm worried about bringing too much stuff and yet hold the same fear about bringing to little as well. Do I just buy everything when I'm over there? Uggggg, the details! They get to me. At least I have time to ponder.

Speaking of pondering, I have contemplated writing a couple times this week before now, but the question as to the purpose of blogging, and, in particular this blog, came to mind. I'm saying some pretty personal stuff here. Getting vulnerable. Is this for your entertainment? Or my release? Should I be sticking to one particular topic? Or write simply what's on my mind? I know these are questions I should be answering myself, but I have grappled with them all week. I guess, indicated by the fact that I wrote this blog on this topic in the first place, I seem to have come to a conclusion, but I'll try to stick to Peace Corps stuff. If you're not interested in my mundane life of preparation, paying the bills and studying for the MCATs over the next few months, feel free to check back in in September, when things will be heating up. My staging date, when I report to the Peace Corps, is 9/25/2011. The countdown begins.
When I was thinking about this blog and what to write earlier this week I came up with a great idea though (or at least I think so). My idea was that at a completely arbitrary time every week or month or so, I, and my friends and maybe followers would take a photo of where they are. Maybe the first Thursday of every month at 3:24 pm, take a picture of what you see, something like that. I don't know, I'm toying with the idea.

Anywho. I have an urge to end this post with a confession, nothing serious, but I thought you should know, and maybe I just want to say it.

I'm not brushing my teeth tonight. I'm signing off and going straight to bed. So HA gingivitis and my dentist! Fight over my gums and plaque. For those of you who are interested, I'm sure my mouth will be a battleground to the death tonight. If it weren't so creepy, I might even install a microscopic camera so we could watch what's happening in my mouth, but I feel like the plaque might get camera shy. Hmm, then again, that's even more reason to do it. You might not feel like this is a big confession, but let me tell you, if someone wakes me up tomorrow morning, they'll have wished they read my blog.

The Invitation

I've waited for today for months. I've dreamed about this white envelope coming to change my life, to make my dreams come true, to open new worlds to me. I never imagined I would be so thrown off, so scared. Yes, I'm scared. I'm scared of what could happen, of what I might learn, or not learn, of what kind of person might come out of this adventure.
It started months ago. I applied almost a year ago to the Peace Corps. I had been laying in bed one night, summer before my senior year in college, asking myself "What do I want to do with my life?" I was nervous about graduation and what might come afterwards. I kept asking myself, "what do I want to do?" Exasperated, it took hours to get a full answer from myself. People rarely admit how hard it is to answer that question. But really, it takes so much effort. You need to decide to take your life and your decisions into your own hands instead of letting life flow, and you a leaf riding down it with no direction to call your own. But I did, I took the reins and answered that question. I want to go abroad. I want to learn a new language, a new culture. I want to use my skills as a health provider. I want to make a difference.
Oh how cheesy: I want to make a difference. Cookie cutter pre med line. But honestly, that is my main goal right now. I don't mean I want to change the world. I highly doubt that an insignificant little girl can make that sort of difference. No. I want to touch the world. I want to touch as many people as possible and make each of their lives just a little bit better. From a smile, to a hug, to saving a life. If I can make one experience a little bit better, I have made a difference. Maybe it will butterfly effect and save the world, or maybe one more happy person will tip the godly scales in our favor; who knows what impact that will have on the world? There's no way to know, or measure, or even guesstimate. So that will continue to be my goal, until a better one comes along.
Anywho... back to the Peace Corps. Long story short, I applied as a back up plan. I didn't want to go anywhere or commit to anything for 27 months, but as the application process went on, as I read amazing stories, I grew to love the idea. Having lived in Germany for only 11 months wasn't enough. That was when you were just getting the hang of it.
I continued in the application process: the shots, the appointments, the endless forms. After months of trying to get the right medical documentation (that's a whole other story altogether), I was medically cleared. I almost cried in relief. At this point, I knew I wanted to do this. At night, I'd have dreams of being in Africa, living in a mud hut, teaching about AIDS. I was so ready.
Then, last week, I got an email from my placement officer, saying she had questions for me. After a long discussion, she tells me African nomination has been filled.
"But do not despair fair lady" she says (I'm paraphrasing). "I have found the perfect placement for you." Working in a clinic on disease prevention and working with women and children. Perfect. I literally jumped for joy. As a hopeful OBGYN, this sounded amazing. There were so many thoughts going through my head. Maybe I can work on women programming, empower women, help them. I started imagining how I could make a difference, but honestly, I was still imagining myself in Africa.
"And where might I be going?" I asked. (also paraphrasing, in an English accent) Funny thing: she couldn't tell me over the phone. I felt like this was some top secret CIA stuff going on. "We can't talk countries over the phone, but think Central Asia. Your invitation is in the mail."
Central Asia, what did that mean? Nepal? India? Mongolia? I honestly had no idea. It couldn't be the middle east, I'm Jewish. I told them explicitly I wasn't willing to hide my religion. Endless possibilities went through my head. I imagined myself somewhere learning from monks about Buddhism, maybe working on a rice paddy.
Saturday, I haunted the desk to my dorm, waiting for the mail to be sorted. I even bribed the desk worker with baked goods my mom had sent me if she could send me an email as soon as the mail came. Nothing. Crap. I would have to wait till Monday.
Sunday passed slowly, trying to procrastinate studying for an exam on Wednesday. I ended up watching the Event on Hulu.
Monday came. The envelope wasn't on the forefront of my mind. It wasn't until I got to work and someone asked my about it that I remembered. I immediately opened my mail hoping for an email about a package. I stalked my email for hours. Not 5 minutes went by when I didn't check.
Jen walked by and made a passing comment about it. I exclaimed in exasperation. I don't remember what I said but I tried to convey to her how I was waiting anxiously, checking my mail continuously..... and there it was. I had a package.
I ran out of work, hopping, skipping, jumping to my dorm. Storming the desk. And there it was. I white envelope with my future in it. I ran next door, I didn't want to be alone when I opened it. All the while up the stairs, I couldn't help but imagine myself in various places. On the great wall of china. In thailand, eating Pad Thai. In rural Nepal.
I ripped it open. It was a huge envelope, with a giant blue packet inside. So much information, but I didn't care yet. Where the f*^k am I going? I scanned the welcome letter and missed it entirely, thinking it wasn't there. I started ripping through the packet looking for where it might be. My friend picked up the letter and read it at the same time I found it on the welcome packet: Turkmenistan.
What?

Turkmenistan.

Where the f*&k is Turkmenistan? I'd never heard of it before.

Google came our rescue. It's smack dab in the middle of Iran, Afghanistan, and Kazakhstan.
I was completely shocked. I didn't know how to react. The Middle East? A Jewish Woman. In the Middle East? I didn't know what to think. So I left.
Walking back to work all I could think about was in 10th grade when I found out I was going to Germany. When my mom found out, she vetoed it. No way was she letting me go into the heartland of the country that murdered our family. My grandfather was confused. Why was I choosing to leave the country that he had worked so hard to get himself, and therefore us, into? I didn't have good answers then, when there was really so little threat. What kind of answers would I have now?

Dad took it great. He was excited. He recognized that I would be in the middle of history in the making as Turkmenistan creates a name for itself in the world. He even has a client out there. He's thrilled. I hung up with him confused. He took it so well. Was it ok for me to be feeling so conflicted?
I told people at work. Their reactions went from confused, to worried, to laughing. Everyone had something to say, and yet not a whole lot to say.
Well, people certainly won't be visiting me now.

I got through today. It 12 hours after I received news and I'm sitting here, not sleeping, typing. I'm starting this blog. How do I feel?
I'm scared. Piercings will have to come out. I'll have to wear long skirts and refrain from premarital sex. What if I mess up? What if I get raped? What if I can't handle the oppression? What if I'm not happy? I'm living with a host family? I'm 22. When will I be living on my own? Will I be in the desert? Will people like me? Will I fit in, or stick out like a poor thumb? How am I going to learn Turkmen?
I'm excited. This is an opportunity for me to learn about a culture that I have no idea about. I'd never even heard about it before today. I'll learn two new languages. I'm going to gain perspective. I'm going to be doing exactly what I wanted to do and more, maybe getting paired up with a midwife. I'm going to gain so much perspective and humility. People deal with this every day of their lives. I'll know whether or not I can too. I will be able to. I'll learn so much!
I'm confused. Will I be safe? How will this work? How much education should I do before I go and how much training will they give me once I'm there? Will I have internet?
The packing list is huge and full of things I don't own. There's so much paperwork to be done, forms to fill out, pamphlets to read, emails to write. And yet, here I am writing. I'm not sleeping or writing, reading or planning. I'm contemplating. I'm sharing.

I don't know what the next few hours, day, weeks or months are going to hold. The only thing constant in my life right now is uncertainty. But I'm willing to stand here and share that uncertainty with people. With my family and friends. I'm going to put my thoughts to virtual paper and see if maybe I can bring the people that I care about with me to Turkmenistan. To learn with me, to gain awareness. To know if I'm still alive. But also to support me, guide me and love me when I'm going to need it the most.

This was a long post, but I appreciate you sticking with it. and me. Much love. I'm off to dream of Turkmenistan.