Last Day in Florida -- Last Post til Mali...

It feels more surreal than anything else. I don't know any other ways to describe it. This is my last full day in Florida. Tomorrow I leave for Atlanta to spend the night in a hotel with my parents and then first thing Monday morning I meet up with Michele and her family at the airport for our 9:00 AM departure to Philadelphia, PA. I'm not sure people out there will get this, but it feels like everything is zipping by way too quickly while at the same time going in such slow motion. I think the shere immensity of the journey I am about to embark on hit me last night when I laid down in bed -- I had this feeling of absolute loneliness, like I could walk the entire way around the world and never see a single other person. It felt as if an invisible blanket had been thrown over me and was being pulled down from each corner, like if I were to try and stand up it would be a struggle. I had this exact same feeling a few years ago in the days before I left Michele to live in Paris for a year. I know it isn't anything to worry about; it's just a natural anxiety that comes along with any big change in a person's life. I am getting ready to leave my world and step into someone else's. The difference between this and any change I've been through in the past is that I won't be able to just hop on the computer or pick up a phone to get in touch with friends and family any time I feel like it.

Those of us in this world who are fortunate enough to hae been born Americans have all become soft because we live in such a technologically adept society. I'm not trying to say that we are better or worse than any other group of people around the world or throughout history -- just that things are a bit different in this day and age. Would I have had the strength and courage to make the 3 month journey across the Atlantic Ocean to possibly never see my family again where the slightest mistake meant death in the 1600s? I mean, I guess the point I'm trying to get to is that living in Mali without runnning water, electricity, or a quick way to contact my family may seem like 'roughing it' to anyone raised in the modern world like me, but I will still have modern medicine and all that stuff. I mean, for Pete's sake, I'm bringing a solar panel that recharges AA batteries so I can keep my GPS and iPod powered up! (And holy crap! I have the video iPod on which I am putting episodes of Scrubs as I type this!)

Now don't get me wrong - the iPod isn't a completely negative thing. I can't just quit my modern convenience addiction cold turkey. It is there to help with the initial "What-the-hell-have-I-done?" shock those first few weeks/months in Mali. Any kind of anxiety and/or excitement I have now will only increase tenfold when I arrive in Bamako. I have been going through "mood swings" the past few days - times when I am absolutely excited about the Peace Corps and can't wait to go and be the hero to the little guy -- and times when I feel anxiety like there is no possible way I will make it in the world I'm going to. These emotions have been relatively mild the past few weeks, but I think they have really hit me now going back and forth with each passing hour.

I'm worried, I'm excited, I'm nerous, my heart is pounding, I'm afraid I might forget to bring something, I'm afraid I've packed too much, I'm afraid I don't know enough French, I'm afraid I'll never know enough French, I'm afraid that I won't be enough to comfort Michele when she needs it, I love that I am having the adventure of a lifetime with the only girl who has ever meant so much to me, I want to explore a region so few ever get to, I want to ride a bike where ever I go, I worry I'm not in good enough shape, I'm worried how I'll react when someone I become close to dies of AIDS, I am confident that I am strong enough, I worry that I'm not strong enough -- all these thoughts fly through my head a mile a minute.

The Peace Corps preparation booklets all tell me that these feelings are to be expected, however. It's at least good to know that I'm not abnormal.

Our address in Mali:
Tim Maher or Michele Scarbrough, PCT
Corps de la Paix
B.P. 85
Bamako, Mali

In other news, my electric bills are paid off, my water bills are paid off, my XM radio subscription has ended, my Cingular cell phone service is about to (and the a-holes at Cingular charged me an extra $100 for cancelling their service! Sprint was kind enough to waive that fee when I cancelled with them as I left for Paris a few years back!), I ended my subscription with World of Warcraft after some 9 hour battle royale to reach lvl 60 before I left (special thanks to Centipede and Seri and the rest of the Wolf Pact gang). Everything is coming to a close. I leave Florida tomorrow to get a running start in order to crash through my comfort bubble onto the hard pavement of the rest of the world.

This will most likely be my last post before leaving for Mali on the 26th. To everyone I have met over the years both in person and online, to those I've worked with and those I've had fun with, no matter how small of a role you feel you may have played in my life, we have all been blessed to have ever crossed one anothers' paths. I leave you all (in the short term til we all meet again) with these words:

Sometimes

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.


Thank you all.