Rough New Prizes

Three Years Later

2009-03-09T09:29:00.002-05:00

My last blog post was March 2006. Now it is the same month, only three years later. The interim has consisted getting married, heading to China, teaching English, and coming home to attend grad school in New Jersey. I am not going to rehash all that happened over these three years. Suffice it to say that I have had adventures. Some might say I have changed, but actually I believe the experiences have just enhanced who I already was. I have received some of those "Rough New Prizes."

Beginning now, I hope to write again. I am not planning on documenting my daily activities because that would be boring, even to me, and I will probably be the only one to read these things. In stead, I hope to write about the things I believe. Seeking Rough New Prizes is not easy. It is hard not to be sucked into wanting those smooth prizes: a big screen t.v., the convenience of plastic shopping bags, a 10 oz. steak. I need to document what matters to me so that I remember it when I don't particularly want to; when I drive by the big houses on Maplewood Ave. or walk into a Coach store or get the new Pottery Barn catalog. That is when it is hardest to remember the 91 million girls around the world who can't attend school or that we are killing our planet with conspicuous consumption or just the fundamental truth that things can't make you happy. And really, those are the times we should keep those facts in the forefront of our minds.

So, if you want to know my rambling musings or if you are interested in what makes me tick, feel free to read along with me. I welcome your questions, comments, concerns, and prayers.

Blessings, Chandra

Random Facts about China

2006-03-04T20:11:00.000-06:00

China is the fourth largest country in the world in terms of land mass and the largest in terms of population. There are more Chinese people who speak English than there are Americans who speak it. One in every fifty people in the world is from Sichuan Provence. It is very hard to wrap my mind around all of that. How does one country get to be so populated? They must have always had a low infant mortality rate compared to other countries, but why? Most people in China are peasants, I can't imagine that they have access to stellar healthcare or an abundance of food. In the Peace Corps welcome book it suggests that you boil all your water, so I can't imagine that it is very clean. Why doesn't Africa have the same population problems as China? Or the USA for that matter? Yes, we have access to birth control here and we understand the benefits of smaller families, but it wasn't always that way. My father is one of eight children.

It is just interesting to me that I am on my way to a country so different from my own. It seems like any other region of the world would have been more like the US than Asia. The split between the East and the West has always been so profound for me, the languages, the cultures, the history, everything is different. So, now I am trying to study China, and it is mind blowing. How can I begin to understand people without learning their history? Imagine coming to the US and not knowing a thing about the Revolutionary War or the Civil Rights Movement? These things effect us right now in everything, our culture, our interactions, our view of ourselves. So how can I go to China and know nothing about Tienneman Square or the Great Leap Forward? And this is a country that is powered by national pride, where the history is the culture, so if I don't know that, what good can I possibly do?

Clearly I have a lot of work to do.

晚安
(Good Night)

Chandra

China or BUST!

2006-02-20T20:48:00.000-06:00

Saturday afternoon BJ and I finally got our official invitation to the Peace Corps. Actually, BJ was at work when I got the mail and I knew that the packet was coming, but it was so hard to wait for him to get home until we opened it. It was just this big, thick white envelope staring at me all afternoon saying, "Open me. Peak. BJ won't know." But, I had promised that I would wait for him so that we could find out together where we would be stationed and when.

When BJ finally got home we tore into the enveolope like kids on Christmas. I grabbed on end of the envelope flap and he grabbed the other and we just ripped it open. It is funny when something you have waited and wondered about for so long comes to fruitition. I mean, I sat there all afternoon looking at this unassuming white envelope thinking, "this is going to change my life." After months of medical tests and applications and resumes we were finally invited!

We were so excited when we read that we had been invited to serve in Peace Corps China. It is one of the best placements in the world! We will be teaching English at the college level, but we don't know exactly where yet. They have a certain number of colleges (mostly teachers colleges and the like) and a certain number of volunteers and once we are through training (8 weeks in Chengdu rather than the usual 12) we will be placed where our skills are best suited. We may be teaching anything from basic English to British Lit to American Culture, we won't know until we are there. What we do know is that the stateside staging is held from June 28 to 30 and then we fly to Chengdu for 8 weeks of intensive language, culture, and teaching training. Schools in China have an 8 week summer break, so in addition to teaching we will be required to do one 3 week project of our choice each summer as well as persue a secondary project throughout our time in the province. We are thinking of starting a drama club for our secondary project, but we are not sure yet. As far as living conditions are concerned, we will be staying in faculty housing. Apartments will have a kitchen with a fridge and stove, a bath with running water and a water heater for showers, and a a separate bedroom and living room. Most places even have phones and AC and some have the internet!

One of the best things about this post is that China is such a growing country. They are developing politically and economically and are hugely influential globally. BJ and I are so glad we will be learning Mandarin and we will be able to spend 2 years in such an interesting place. We are just really hoping that this time in China will help us in are careers after the Peace Corps. Anyway, that's all for now. I know this is a pretty short summary of the PC, but it is all kind of jumbled in my head still. More soon.

Chandra

February update

2006-02-20T20:23:00.000-06:00

There are times in your life when you feel like you are underwater. Everything is heavy and you seem to be moving in slow motion. Now is not one of those times for me. So much has been going on in the past few weeks and I have so many things on my To Do List that writing in the blog has taken a back seat, but here is an update.

Let's see...

The last week in January I spent in San Francisco with one of my best friends in the world, Miss Emily. Emily and I met in the 7th grade when I was living with my grandparents for a semester and we became great friends, such great friends, in fact, that we have kept up the friendship for the past 13 years through letters and the occasional visit. Emily is one of those fabulous people that has an endless capacity for love and understanding and who knows just what to say and just when to send you a package or a hug. So, needless to say, I had a wonderful time. Em has lived in SF for a few years now so we spent all of our time at her little out of the way favorite spots. We got to go to Dave Egger's pirate store. (He wrote A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genious and the pirate store is just a front for a writers' center. It's awesome.) Anyway, BJ and I had a great time and I would love to go back ASAP.

Just before going to SF, I had the brilliant idea to get another job. I thought that it would be a good idea to get some extra money for the honeymoon and stuff, but actually it turned out to be a bad idea. I got a job as a server at TEXAS ROADHOUSE, which would have been okay, but I just didn't have any time to get anything else done (ie-wedding plans, house cleaning, PC preparation, etc). On top of that I wasn't really making enough money to make it worth the time. So, tonight was my last night. If you talked to BJ he would tell you that I have much more definate opinions about the Roadhouse than I am sharing here, but now that it is over I just don't have the energy. Let's just say that I think some of the policies and politics of it do not make for a "legendary" work environment.

Anyway, now I will have more time for planning the wedding and getting ready for the Peace Corps, which will be the subject of my next post.

Tag...I'm it!

2006-01-21T14:17:00.000-06:00

The first player of this game starts with the topic "five weird habits I have" and people who get tagged then write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don't forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says you have been tagged? (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.

Ok...here goes...

1. I am a freak about time. If you tell me that I have to be somewhere at noon and I know it is going to take me 40 minutes to get there I will still leave at 11 no matter what. I have wasted more gas driving around blocks and ran more batteries down while reading books and waiting for people than I can imagine. Perhaps it is the addage, "15 minutes early is on time, on time is late, and late is unheard of." Augh. It plagues my life out.

2. I don't relax. I don't mean that I just don't have time to relax; I mean that I don't do it. If I am sitting down to watch T.V. I feel as if I should be cleaning the house or unloading the dishwasher or folding clothes. This is a fustration to BJ. I am always hopping up to do something or other during commercials or while we are chatting. This problem has even settled itself into my body. I go to the message therapist and she tells me to relax, and I think I do, but she says, "No, really, relax" and I have to say that I can't. My muscles just refuse. Sad, huh?

3. I have a blowdrying ritual. I settle down in front of the t.v. (usually set on a TiVoed Judging Amy, since that is my latest obsession) with a little mirror, a big, round brush, a comb, two big barretts, and a handful of hair elastics. I will spare you the description, but suffice it to say that the process takes about 45 minutes. 45 minutes of the T.V. blasting and the blowdryer in my ear, me saying "WHAT??? I CAN'T HEAR YOU. I'M BLOWDRYING MY HAIR" while I look something like a cross between a muppet and Cousin It. Hey, we all know, "There is no such thing as natural beauty." Right?

4. I have a thing about age. I feel that anyone who is older than me deserves something just by virtue of their age. (is it respect? acknowledgement? I don't know...) Even if I am in a situation where I am more experienced but someone is older than I am, I feel inferior. I also feel that people don't take me seriously because I look young or blonde or nice or "cute" or something. For example, while stage managing, I tell the actors to do something and they just stand there as if I am invisible. Or I get the "aren't you so cute" look. It pisses me off. For some reason I am sure this has to do with my age-ist attitude. I think I am age-ist against myself for being young. Scot, you know what I'm saying.

5. Ok, so I have left the most embarrassing thing for last. Laugh if you want, but here it is... I pull out my own eyelashes. "Why would one do this?" you may ask. I don't know. I really don't. I think someone at sometime told me that you could make wishes on eyelashes and so I started pulling them out and then when I got old enough to wear make up I would try to pull the mascara off and the lash would come out or I would think that if my eye itched and I pulled on the lashes to relieve the itch then I wouldn't smear my eyemake up . I don't know. I just know it is a problem. My eyelashes are actually still pretty full, but one day I will wake up and be lashless. Then how will I feel? Pretty dumb, right? Well I feel pretty dumb now, too. I think it is just something like Ang's mouth cancer. Why can't we just stop?

Ok, so I don't have anyone really to pass the game to, but I will try to give it to BJ on MySpace and maybe a few others I might find.

Love to all.
CHAN

A Post Regarding Postage stamps

2006-01-14T21:41:00.000-06:00

So...blogger...how ya been?

I know. It has been a long, long time since I have visited you. I like to think that my posts have some kind of point to them, but over the past month or so I haven't felt as if I had come to any conclusions about anything. So, therefore, I have not been writing. I will try to start writing again, however, just to keep myself going.

Let's see... what's new? Wedding plans. Ah...wedding plans. It is funny what kinds of decisions a person has to make when planning a wedding. We have all the major vendors lined up, but now I am at the point where all the minute details come in. I have to decide how I want napkins folded and placecards set and what songs will be played when and whether I want to use light-up ice cubes. Never before have I agonized so much over postage stamps. You see, to send my wedding invitations it is going to cost 63 cents each. Not 60...63. So, no, I can't just get the pretty flower stamps or the pretty love stamps. I have to add a red, white, and blue star 3 cent stamp to each envelope. Each envelope which I have already spend hours meticulously hand-addressing and stuffing with another envelope containing invitation, RSVP card, direction card, information card, and the all important little piece of tissue paper. I have to ruin such a beautiful creation as my invitation with a damn STAR STAMP! So...all in all, wedding plans might make a person a little stressed out.

In spite of the fustrations and minutia, the experince is actually very nice. BJ and I met with the officiant the other day, and after all this planning of the reception and decorations and everything we finally started talking ceremony. The minister got out his book and was telling us about the standard traditional wedding service, and he started reading from the introduction, and I just thought how silly I have been. I mean you plan and plan and really it is all about that ceremony, you know? I really felt good when the minister was reading like I was doing something. I had finally started planning something that really matters. I don't know how to say it, but it just made me happy to be living my life.

Anyway, all this to say that things are going well here in my humble corner of the globe. Very well indeed. I hope you all are as lucky as I. God bless and goodnight.

Chandra

Ramblings about Thanksgiving

2005-11-27T19:35:00.000-06:00

Thanksgiving was a resonable holiday this year. By reasonable I mean that I didn't spend six hours in an automobile to arrive at a house already stuffed to the rafters with relatives, extended relatives, and relative strangers to eat a meal off a paperplate balanced precariously on my lap while a puppy runs by my feet chased by a small child (wait, none of my cousins have blonde hair...or do they?). Mostly I spent the four days quietly. We did go to two different family dinners and spend time with lots of my future in-laws, but really that wasn't the best part of the holiday.

Thursday BJ and I went to my church to help with a dinner open to church and community alike. It was the first time I had done something like that. I mean, I volunteer at a couple different places, but not like a soup kitchen or anything. It was really nice. First we played euchre with a retired couple from Franklin while we waited for things to get going. Then, we went upstairs for this little improvised service thing. We sang a song or two and then Mike, the pastor, told us to just shout out things we were thankful for. Without a second thought BJ shouted, "Chandra," which was lovely. I might have been embarrassed, but BJ already has a reputation of being outspoken at church. I mean his is always the loudest voice when we sing and he is always ready with a response or discussion, so I wasn't too surprised. Everyone just smiled at us, which is nice because some other people have been less than excited about our engagement. Not that anyone has been rude or anything just not as excited as I would have liked...anyway...I digress.

So, then we went back downstairs and people started arriving. There weren't as many as I thought, but we had a pretty good crowd, and it was evident that they were hungry. Some people came up two or three times and even took home boxes of food. I was dishing out the turkey (most important of the Thanksgiving foods, as BJ, the ham slinger, jealously pointed out) , and I was glad that we had so much because then I didn't have to be stingy about it. People were smiling and saying, "Happy Thanksgiving," and everything. You could tell that some of the people hadn't seen a good meal in a while. One guy had come up twice, and on the third time he put up the hood of his sweatshirt, just joking you know, as if we wouldn't recognize him. We all just laughed. There were also pleanty of church-folks there. Many were helping out, but some were just there to enjoy the company and the food. It was funny when people went to sit down, too, because there really wasn't a separation. I mean, at any given table there were church people and homeless people and people from other churches or other shelters. BJ and I talked to people and laughed and when the line was slow we used our tongs as percussion insturments to play Jingle bells. Eventually we left to go back to Bargersville for a family meal. It's funny, we didn't even eat there, but I think it might have been one of the best Thanksgiving dinners I've had.

The Survey.

2005-11-08T20:11:00.000-06:00

A couple of years ago I started thinking of this survey that I was going to create. It would only have one real question besides demographics, and that question would be, "How are you going to affect your world?" I wanted to make people think, I guess, or something. I actually have a pretty good list of people who answered via email blitzes and such. Most were from college students- mainly theatre people- and some people answered who were friends of friends and that was cool, to have people who I had never met actually answer this survey thing. Once I put it all together in this church presentation. I still keep a file folder full of the answers with the intention of reviving it and perhaps making it into something someday. A play? A book? I don't know. In anycase, if you have an answer to this, please feel free to comment. Include your Name (if you wish), age, where you live, and occupation just for interest's sake. I really would like as many answers to this question as I can get over a long period of time and from all walks of life. I am interested in what makes people tick, you know? Some people will inevitably say that they will raise their children and that will be their contribution. Some people will say their "art". I am interested in everything. I acutally had one guy (whom I didn't know) say that he wouldn't go around asking people how they were going to affect the world, that he would just go out and do something. That was totally good, too. So, whatever moves ya! I will file it away, and maybe use it in some kind of published fashion in the future, so I want to let you know ahead of time. Probably nothing will come of it, but I am feeling inspired today. I would love to hear anyone's (and everyone) feedback!

Psychiatrists Suck.

2005-11-02T15:55:00.000-06:00

Everyone asks for a Peace Corps update, and usually I just say that we are mired down in the medical screening process, which is true. Here is an example of what I mean by "mired down:"

Well, when you first apply for the PC they ask you to fill out a questionaire about your health for the last ten years, you know, what medications you have been on, exams you have had, diseases or whatever. Simple stuff. And me, being the honest person that I am was very forthright on the quesitonaire. First mistake. Fearing that if I didn't disclose everything they would somehow find out about my medical history in some kind of Big Brother 1984 sting, I admitted to taking Zoloft many years ago. So long ago, in fact, that I don't even live in the town where I was treated. So long ago that no one in my family lives in that town. So long ago that I was dropped off at my therapy appointments after Cross Country Practice! So...it was pretty long ago.

So, when my medical packet came, I had some information for the therapist who saw me and for the psychiatrist who perscribed the medication on the advice of the therapist. More hoops to jump through, right? So, I thought I would just call up the hospital where I saw the therapist and get her to fill out the needed stuff. Shouldn't be a big deal. Well... come to find out the hospital no longer has a therapy services clinic. All of the staff has left and gone their separate ways. Damn. Luckily, the internet is the wonder of the modern age, and I was able to track down the therapist who happens to be at a hospital in the same small town. She was more than happy to fill out the information if I would just send it to her. Yea!

The odessey doesn't end there, however. I send her all the mental health worksheets, hoping that she wouldn't notice (or wouldn't care) that some were supposed to be filled out by the perscribing physician. Which, of course, Therapist Eagle-Eyes did. So, trying to be helpful, she filled out most of the pages leaving the doctor's signiture line blank and attaching a note saying that I might be able to track down this particular doctor in Fort Wayne. So, at this point, I have the stuff from the therapist taken care of, and I am on the hunt for this psychiatrist whom I have never met because he only perscribed the Zoloft and never actually sat in on a session or anything.

So, off I go again searching the internet. I find the doctor has a practice in Fort Wayne, and I call to state my business and let them know that I will be sending on this paperwork. I knew I was in trouble when the woman...excuse me, girl who answers the phone sounds as if she has just gotten out of Algebra class and divides most of her time between planning the prom and making out in the back seat. Of course, because she doesn't know what the hell she is talking about, she assures me that the doctor would be more than happy to fill out the paperwork. Yeah...right.

About a week later I get a voice mail from the doctor at about 10p.m. saying that he needs to talk to me, but he doesn't leave a number. So, I wait for him to call me back. And I wait. And I wait. Finally, last night I talk to him in person, and because he is such a nice guy, he says he "can't" fill out the paperwork. He says it is because he is no longer associated with that particular hospital. He also feels free to give his opinion about the Peace Corps requesting this information, saying that they should not be privilage to those records. And then, he goes on to tell me that I should refuse to do what the PC asks, and that there are several other good service organizations through mission work. WHHHAAATTTT????? So, I calmly ask him to send my paperwork back to me, and much to my surprize, he refuses! Jack Ass.

So, today, I called the PC office, and they listened to my story, and the guy said, "Wow, he sounds like a real winner," when I told him that I couldn't get the paperwork back. But, of course, they wouldn't listen to the fact that I took the medicine for 8 months back when Al Gore still had a chance at the presidency. I was told that I need to get the paperwork filled out by another psychiatrist and that I should include in my personal statement why it took so long to get the information turned in.

Now I am at the point of trying to find a psychiatrist here that won't charge me out the ass just for one session where they fill out the paperwork asserting that I am indeed mentally fit for the rigors of the Peace Corps. I understand why they want the information, but I still wish I would have lied. I guess, if nothing else, it is a way to break the weak applicants's resolve to join the PC. If they can make it through the screening process, they must be serious about it, right?

Oh well. Anyone know a good shrink?

Lake Stinky McSinkerson

2005-10-31T12:50:00.000-06:00

So, as many people know I live in a trailer. I came to live here becuase I moved in with my fiance, so although I did not choose it, it is actually cozy and safe and cheap, and hey, what more could you ask for? But, to properly introduce this story, I must tell you about the trailer.

It was made (I believe) in 1984. The outside is a brown on brown aluminum with a concrete patio in the front. The cement steps are trecherous and the driveway is cracked. Inside...the first time I saw the inside of the trailer I felt like I had stepped back in time. It has brown "wood" (I use the term loosely) panneling and wallpaper in the kitchen that is a brown on beige fruit-basket print. At the time there was a rough wool brown and black striped sofa and a black leather chair. The coffee table was a slab of green marble shaped like an amoeba and propped up on wooden stools. The whole place had the smell of cats and gym socks. This was my boyfriend's place?!

Apparently he had purchased the trailer at the urging of his mother who wanted a way to keep him in the neighborhood. It was previously owned by a very large woman (who could not physically leave the bedroom), her several children, and even more pets...pets which were allowed to deficate all over the house. So, when my fiance bought it, the trailer was in pretty bad shape. He had fixed most of the problems structurally, but certain vestiges of the old times remain...a faint smell of animals when the heat first kicks on, holes in walls from teenagers' fists, and scratched above where the large woman's bed would have been is the lovely hallmark mother's day saying, "Fu** you, Fat Bitch." Ah...family life.

Since my first time visiting the trailer, BJ and I have worked to update the decor (hello...1992 would have been an update) , cover up the holes and writing on the walls, and air out the smell of animals and armpits. So, what I am about to tell you, while sad, is actually better than what the place used to be like.

We do not have a dishwasher, so last Thursday after cooking myself a nice stir-fry I went to wash the dishes. I was standing in front of the sink letting the water run until it got warm when I started feeling something wet around my socks. When I looked down, water was flowing (not trickling, not dripping, but flowing) out of the cabinet. When I looked in there was standing water on both the upper and lower shelves and the U-joint of the plumbing was disconnected from the drain pipe. I quickly turned off the water and started pulling out cleaning supplies and garbage bags which live crammed under the sink along with lighter fluid, cooking oil, and other sundry kitchen items. I find a half used bottle of distilled water. It has turned brown from age...yuck. So I decide to dump it out...right back into the sink. It splashes into the basin and before I can realize what I have just done I have a lap full of brown distilled water. Real smart, Chandra. Upon closer examination, I wondered how the joint could have come apart because some totally-competant plumber had already hoisted the joint up to the drain pipe with the old plumbers trick of duct-tape and a butter knife...whaaa?? So, I call the fiance.

"Did you or your mother's boyfriend have the bright idea to fix the kitchen sink with duct-tape and a butter knife?" I asked.

"What?" He sounds as though he thinks I am speaking Russian. I am sure he has to have noticed the butter knife hanging precariously from the sink plumbing at some time in the past.

"You know...under the sink. I think your trick might not be working."

"Oh...that...that was Brian's (his old roommate) idea. Why do you think it isn't working? Is it dripping?" He he. Is it dripping? How about, "how's the skiing on lake Stinky McSinkerson"

"Well, the first clue was the lake under the sink... I think I am going to try to figure out how to put new plumbing in."

"Usually I just push it up and try to twist the joint on really tight. It usually lasts about six months." Of course he does...

Well, I never said I wanted a handy man. Good thing he makes up for his lack of plumbing skills with a quick wit, endearing smile, and kind heart.

So, I have decided not to redo the plumbing. I am too afraid. I am afraid of A) getting the pieces off and not being able to put it back together and B) what I might find if I get it apart. I have since tried to screw the joints back together more tightly, so we will see. I guess we are going to be leaving this place soon. BJ says we should burn it down...maybe he's on to something.

I don't know why I told this story, except that I thought it was kind of funny. If you want to know other funny stories about the trailer, someday I will tell you about the opossums. :-)

Chan

Song of the Open Road

2005-10-27T14:23:00.000-05:00

It has been a long time since I posted something here, so I thought I would write a little something and see if any juices start flowing. I just haven't felt very inspired lately. It just seems like all the thoughts I have are unoriginal or just tired, not worth putting pen to paper...or whatever the cyber-space equivilant might be.

So, I thought I would post the section of "Song of the Open Road" which holds the title of my blog, just so you can see where it came from. It is by Walt Whitman:

Listen! I will be honest with you. I do not offer the old
smooth prizes, but I offer rough new prizes.

These are the days that must happen to you:
You shall not heap up what is called riches,
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve.
However sweet the laid-up stores.
However convenient the dwelling,
You shall not remain there.
However sheltered the port, and however calm the waters,
You shall not anchor there.
However welcome the hospitality that welcomes you,
You are permitted to receive it but a little while.
Afoot and lighthearted, take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before you,
The long brown path before you leading wherever you choose.

Say only to one another:
Camerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law:
Will you give me yourself? Will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

Mediations on Failure

2005-10-16T19:37:00.000-05:00

Today was a bizarre day.

I freaked out because a project I have been working on for about a year is really falling into the shitter, excuse the language. It is one of those things that you work at and you work at, and one day you realize that it is a big, fat failure. Nothing you can do about it. It just blows. So then, of course, you blame yourself, although there is not much you could do. You have tried your best. You have fought the fight, but when you are trying to create something where there is nothing there is always help needed, and when no help comes, well, nothing remains. But, as they say, "What can ya do?"

So, in the midst of realizing my project's failure my fiance, B.J. knew exactly what to do. First, he pushed me about it. Gently trying to make me realize that it was the project's failure and not mine, that it was the people to whom I turned who had let me down and not myself. When that didn't work, and I was balled up on the bed, he came into the room, took off his shoes, and held me for a long time. Quiet while I cried. This was right.

Thinking about it now, after the post-cry nap, and seeing a movie; now when it is dark and B.J. is packing his things for another week on the road with is acting troupe, I really could give a rat's ass about the project. So what if it failed. You work really, really hard to be noticed, for someone to tell you that you did a good job or so that your name will be mentioned in the paper, and really those aren't the things that sustain you. You try so hard to impress people and that doesn't even last a second, if that long. I don't really know very much about anything. Most of this blog is a lot of bluster, just a way for me to work stuff out in my head, so if it sounds pompous or elitist, I am sorry. But, I am pretty sure about this. I might not really know what does sustain us, but I am pretty sure good cries, naps, and seeing a movie with your best friend is a little closer than seeing your name in print.

Well, that's all for now.

Good Night and God Bless.

Questions

2005-10-07T17:43:00.000-05:00

It is hard sometimes, when you have made tough decisions, to face adversaries. Certain people in my life, friends and family, have opposed my decision to join the Peace Corps. Or at least, they have asked, "Well...Why the heck would you want to do that?" Which is almost as painful because it seems to indicate that they don't know me very well or that they don't share my desire to be of use to the world. And sometimes, yes, I do question the decision myself, but what can you do when you worry that the people you would normally turn to would just try to talk you out of it, or would say, "I told you so," or worse yet would hold some secret little victory over you that maybe they were right all along and your armor isn't as strong as you thought it was? What can you do? Every few weeks I get a bout of questioning. I think, wouldn't it be easier to just marry, get a little house here, and start a life? Wouldn't that at least make it easier to decide the items for the registry?

In these times, something always happens. I hear a news story, or see a movie, or (most often) read a book or article that reminds me I am doing the right thing. It is funny because these things always fall in my lap at a providential moment. Now, for example. About a month ago I picked up a copy of The Hemingway Book Club of Kosovo by Paula Huntley at Half Priced Books for $2.00. It has been sitting on my living room floor ever since, staring up at me while I watch some stupid HGTV show saying, "Why don't you read me? That show is assinine." It had almost gotten to the point that I didn't want to read the damn book because it had been guilting me for so long, but today I picked it up. Today, when I worry I am doing the wrong thing, or that I will hate the Peace Corps, or that the mosquitos will eat me alive and I will want to come home and BJ will want to stay and it will tear us apart. I have only started reading it, only to page 7, and I am pretty sure this is one of those books or articles or movies or songs that resonate with me.

Huntley concludes the author's note by saying:

"It is also my hope that more of us Americans will become involved with the rest of the world. We need to learn about other people, learn what they think of us, try to understand, even if we don't agree with, their points of view. Everywhere in the world, I believe, from our own backyards to the middle of the Balkans, there exist people whose needs and whose generous, responsive hearts, offer even the most ordinary Americans -like me- an opportunity to serve, to connect, to expand our capacity for love."

I wish I could write that eloquently.

Sometime I will write down a list of all the things that I have found inspirational. Not because they will inspire anyone else but just because they will stand as a document of something...I'm not sure what. Some people think of those things as conicidence or perhaps serendipity, if you want to get fancy about it. Other people think these happenings are a Divine hand leading us to the "right" path. Still others think it is just our own minds looking for these moments to validate our lives. I don't know. I am just glad I notice them.

Off to read now. Good night.

A Snack

2005-10-02T13:22:00.000-05:00

I went to church this morning and to my frustration I found out it was Communion Sunday, not only that, but it was World Communion Sunday. Argh. Usually I avoid Communion...especially in the 10:45 service since there are so many people there and it always makes church go long. And now, it was World Communion Sunday which means that this Communion day would be especially Communiony. But, I was already trapped in the pew and surrounded by old ladies with sagging pantyhose by the time I realized the day, so I couldn't just leave. I decided to sit it out. I decided to have an open mind. Of course, I kept wondering if I would partake in the body and blood of our Savior and how I could politely let the sagging-hose ladies past me without having to do the crazy aisle dance just so I wouldn't have to visit the altar where the smiling men would be holding up the aforementioned meal. Oh well. We would see when it came time.

So, as the service progressed, I noticed new and different things about my church. We have a Korean Congreagation that meets in another part of the building, but this Sunday they were a part of our service and their pastor was participating along side the regular pastor. He taught us how to say, "Peace" in Korean so that during the passing of the peace we all were shaking hands and trying not to look foolish saying, "Pung-wa...Pung-wa." Then he read the second gospel reading from his Korean Bible. The choir sang a traditional Native American song as they slowly entered the sanctuary to the beat of a single drum. The children's church talk was about the Scottish traditions of Communion and how World Communion Sunday was all about inviting all people to God's table.

Then, something funny happened. Mike, the pastor, started to prepare the sacrement, and when he pulled the napkin off the bread there was a pile of rolls: rye rolls and challah bread and flat bread, each a traditional bread of a different nation. Of course, he went through the whole litany and whatnot, but instead of just intoning the old "Let us proclaim the mysteries of faith..." thing himself, it had been written out for us all to say together. Then we sang the Lord's Prayer, not just said it, but sang it. And just when Pastor Mike was about to break the bread he said (and I am sure I am getting this wrong here), "Everyone is invited. Soundrels, thieves, liars! Everyone is invited at this table!" And people started to come down the aisle. Not in an orderly fashion, but just bounding down the aisle. Some were holding hands with children or the elderly. Some were quiet. Some people took their bread standing and some knelt at the altar. I didn't worry about the saggy-hosed ladies. I just went up and ripped off a hunk of bread and nibbled as I walked back to my seat.

Do you want to know why I went up to Communion? Because it seemed to me just like it should have been. People smiling and sharing. It wasn't a somber time to reflect on how this little flimsy waffer soked in juice would save us from eternal damnation. It was a time for people to celebrate life, the harvest, and eachother. I looked around and was reminded of Robert Fulghum's essay All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. It was as if the whole world was having a snack together and then we would find our mat and our blanket and settle down for a nap.

The relaxing day of a semi-kept woman

2005-09-29T17:45:00.000-05:00

Why is it that the sky is deeper in the autumn? Not that it is deeper in color, although sometimes it is- the colors of autumn are always different than any other season, I am talking about being able to see the depth of the sky, the depth of the clouds. The sky in autumn isn't just a blue mixing bowl turned over on a green countertop. In the autumn you can see from the ground the depth of the sky, a realization usually only made on airplanes while looking at the tops of clouds and backs of birds. For me, today was the first day of true autumn.

It was the relaxing day of a semi-kept woman: an appointment for a "hand treatment" (which was fabulous), wondering around the craft store and library, an afternoon with my fiance's mother at her resturant, and a long evening run. The hand treatment was fabulous. My beautiful friend, Angela, is working on her estatician licence, so she needed clients. I couldn't let her down. :) Anyone who knows Ang should definately go get something done. It is so relaxing and you get to chat and it is quite cheap. Lovely.

At the craft store, a woman locked her keys in her truck while it was running, and she asked me if I had a coathanger to open it. Unfortunately, I did not. I hate wire coathangers, and on what bar would I hang a coat on a hanger in my car? Briefly, I thought of offering her my roadside assistance which I have on my phone. In stead, I offered to get the manager of the craft store who might indeed have a coathanger. I did so, and when the manager emerged from the breakroom with one of those nasty wire coathangers, I directed her to the woman and went on about my shopping.

Should I have gone out to make sure things went as planned? Should I have offered the roadside assistance? The reason I didn't is not because it would have cost me anything and it isn't because I was worried about using up my available assistance (they will only come 4 times a year and then they charge you). I didn't offer because I didn't want to wait with her. That is why I didn't offer. I didn't want to stand in the parking lot with this woman and make small talk while we waited for some locksmith to come out and then wait while he messed around and then wait while he told us that he didn't have the right tools and then wait while he went to get the right tools, all the while talking about what a mixed blessing it is that cars are made so theft-proof these days. Does that make me a bad person? I am reading this book called The Kindness of Strangers and it personal essays from famous writers about how they have been helped along their travels by the kindness of strangers. I thought of this as I walked through the craftstore looking at wedding things and quilter's batting, and yet, I still did not go back and check on her.

This afternoon I found myself in a very odd place. A cemetary. It is a long story, but near the Morgantown Grill, which is owned by my future mother-in-law, there is a cemetary and today I walked around there a little while. Did you know that there were people in Morgantown, Indiana in 1850? I mean, I assume there were people there and there were certainly sick and dying people there since there are still sick and dying people there now and our medical technology is certainly better now than it was in 1850, even in Morgantown, Indiana. So I shouldn't have been surprised to see gravestones from 1850, but I was. I started to wonder what a place like Morgantown must have been like in 1850, and when I saw all the graves of children I thought what it must have been like to be a mother in Morgantown in 1850. My instinct was to think of how hard it must have been to loose child after child to fever and flu and all sorts of what we would consider minor ailments. People say you never get used to that kind of thing- loosing your children. I certainly can't imagine it. But maybe they did. Maybe they got used to it, I mean. Expected it, in some way. Accepted it, at least. We think parenting is hard today. I'm just glad I wasn't alive in 1850.

The resturant is called, The Morgantown Grill and Ice Cream. It is a fun, country-style place that serves home cooking and hamburgers and features the music of the Herb Brock Band. There is a loyal following, but unfortunately their numbers are few. I had a very lovely time sitting outside chatting and watching people drive by. It is funny because for such a long time I have thought that the only way to live is to work really hard and really long and probably you will hate what you are doing. I did nothing today. I had my hands covered in parafin and I walked around a cemetary. That's pretty much it. I didn't earn my keep. And, really, I am okay with that.

Well, I guess I have prattled on enough for tonight. I will babble more tomorrow. Blessings and Goodnight.

The first of many?

2005-09-28T19:38:00.000-05:00

Well, it is my first post on my first blog. Perhaps it will last. Perhaps not. So, I'm not making any promises.

It seems a little silly to me that I would post a journal online and actually expect people to read it. Maybe they will and maybe they won't, but I will know it is there. I have never been good about keeping a journal or diary, so I thought that if it were typed then it might be easier.

You see, I am standing right now on the verge. Six months from now I will be married. Eight months from now I will be on my way to Asia with my husband to teach English in the Peace Corps. In a year we will be completing our training and heading out to our own village, our own house, in our own corner of the Far East. So, in short, I am on the verge. I feel as though I should have something to say. At least, to myself. So, I started this blog.

I call the blog Rough New Prizes because that is what I seek. I know that I have not chosen an easy life. The Peace Corps is not supposed to be easy. Marriage (contrary to popular belief) is not supposed to be easy. But, easy is for Prom Queens not Mermaids (a subject I will tackle later), and I am definately a Mermaid. If you have a chance, I highly recommend reading "Song of the Open Road," especially if you know me or would like to know me. I think it speaks.

Well, I guess that is all for now. Blessings and good night.