Five days to Go!

Hello all! Five days to go and I'm getting down to the final stages of packing. The only item of unfinished business seems to be selling the car. Who would've thought that it would be this tough to sell a car in Bristol. It has all the new technology like radial tires, FM radio, even that new fangled unleaded gas. Oh well, in a couple of days, if it still hasn't been sold, I'll be driving down to Carmax to turn it into some quick cash. Beyond that, it's all about trying to keep the bag weights down and making it easy for things to be shipped to me after the fact. Haven't been doing much language study in the past several weeks. I guess I'll be hitting the flashcards pretty hard on the plane!

Next post will be from San Francisco!

Chat at ya soon!

Mitch

Quick Hit #5: Effing Cigars

If you've ever found yourself out in public, and you've thought "you know, I'm just not being enough of an A-hole." simply light up a cigar. Problem solved.

Snake Mythology; T-minus 25 Days and Counting!

Hello faithful readers!

I'm back in Bristol, VA having left behind the lush er...damn hot desert landscape of Tucson. I really liked Tucson (If you ever find yourself in Southern Arizona, make sure to drop by the Cowpony bar. It kicks ass!) I could see myself settling down in Tucson someday, that is if I ever find myself settling down.

One thing left me feeling a little ripped off regarding my time in the desert. Five weeks in the middle of the rocky sandy, blistering nothing and I didn't see ONE...DAMN...SNAKE!! I don't want to hear any more about the desert teeming with Rattlers with a snake lurking behind every sagebrush. As far as I'm concerned, that's bull crap. What a gyp. All those scenes in the westerns where the cowboy is riding along on his horse when suddenly...EEEK! A RATTLESNAKE!! Yeah, right. Maybe if he was riding along in the middle of the night...making noises like a gopher...a sick gopher...with a wooden leg. Desert snakes are a myth!!

Anyway, absent vipers aside, when I got back to VA, my Peace Corps staging kit was waiting for me! The staging kit is the PC signal that the final countdown has started. Inside were updated packing guidelines, a final checklist of things to do/bring to staging, a schedule of training as well as my international flight itinerary. So...

On July 19 I'll be hopping a plane to San Francisco!! I'll be spending two and a half days at the Hotel Kubuki, a Japanese themed 4 star hotel! Woo Hoo!! Originally, I had thought I'd be flying straight into Phnom Penh but I guess that doesn't happen. My international flight itinerary reads like a list of all of the places that I've wanted to go. We leave San Francisco on July 21 at 2pm. We fly 11 hours to Japan (woo hoo!!). From Japan, we fly 6 hours to Bangkok Thailand (WOO HOO!) and from there it's a short 1 hr flight to Phnom Penh Cambodia. I know, I know, it's not like I'll be leaving the Airport or anything, and in actuality, it's probably going to be a pain in the neck passing through all these airports, but for now, it just sounds cool. REALLY COOL!!

So now I'm busy shopping up things like light blue short sleeve dress shirts (ugh!) voltage converters, flat blade razors, "dark" colored slacks all the while trying to learn enough Khmer so I don't sound like a complete jackass. I'm looking forward to finally stepping out the door and getting this next chapter underway. It's close now and I think I'm ready.

Quick Hit #5: "New Fix, Old Jones."

I checked out the new Indiana Jones movie a few days ago. The last Indiana Jones movie came out 19 years ago. Holy crap.

Don't get me wrong. I love the character and Harrison Ford is one of my favorites but the bit is so old at this point that the next movie, he'll be digging around in an old tomb or something and find... himself!

"Coming soon... Indiana Jones and the movie that should have been made ten years ago!"
or
"Coming soon... Indiana Jones and the Prostate of Fire"
or
"Coming soon... Indiana Jones and the Dark Incontinent"
or
"Coming soon... Indiana Jones: Raider of the Lost AARP"
or
"Coming soon.... Indiana Jones: I've fallen and I can't get up!"

Sometimes the new old is just old.

-M

PHOENIX LANDER TOUCHES DOWN ON MARS!!

Yes folks, the Phoenix lander has finally arrived, touching down on the surface of Mars, primed to start it's mission to find some signal, some small evidence of life on the red planet.

After the dust cleared, the first snapshot showed a mangled arm extending from beneath the lander, it's six-fingered hand holding a sign that read simply "Welcome."

Shit, hope he wasn't alone.

-M

ps- I wonder how you say "Our bad" in Martian?

Quick Hit #4: "Child Care tips part 1"

There seems to be a lot of controversy over parents using a good old fashioned spanking to discipline their children. This used to be common (I can remember a few my Mom laid on me). Today however, if a child goes to school and shows any signs of this punishment, a nosey teacher calls Child Services and the kid is whisked away to foster care and the parent goes to J-A-I-L. Everyone loses. Is the only alternative to spare the rod and spoil the child? I think not! Just follow these simple steps and you will preserve the tradition of corporal punishment, avoiding any unwanted attention or consequences.

1- Yard Sales. Yes, yard sales. Head out to a few yard sales and buy yourself a used tricycle. Any color will do.

2- Remove the handlebars from the tricycle.

3- For those times when Jr. gets out of hand and an "attitude adjustment" is required, crack him a few times with the handlebars.

4-Send your freshly disciplined progeny to school worry free. If Junior's nosey teachers see any bruises it will look like he fell off his bike.

Voila! Happy family!

-M

Quick Hit #2 "One for the Ages"

When I think of my potential soul mate, I don't have any conditions regarding how old she has to be. I think the cliche of an older man seeking out a young nubile woman is ridiculous. Age is nothing but a number and I feel it' s foolhardy to set such parameters when it comes to the woman I will be with for the rest of my life. She will be as old or as young as she is. Our chemistry, our romance and how we enrich each other's lives is what counts.

I do however feel it's important that I be at least one year older than my father-in-law.

-M

Soldiers on a Plane, Monsters are a Pain and Snakes on a Plain

Hello true believers!!

If I look a little frazzled, it's because I endured a marathon cross country voyage to get to my temporary west coast hacienda. I guess I didn't realize when I got on the plane in TN that I'd spend the next 13 hours heading west. Crap man... I could have taken a covered wagon and saved the folks at NOLS some money.

It took me three airplanes, two layovers of more than two hours (one of nearly four) to get me to my destination. During my time on the planes and the layovers, I made some observations:

1- Many of the soldiers we are sending to Iraq do not speak English. Joining me on my flight from Charlotte to Las Vegas (the middle leg of this idiot's triathlon) where a platoon (or more) of soldiers, all in U.S. Army BDUs. They were universally polite to everyone, and didn't make much of a fuss at all (especially if they were returning from overseas and heading to Vegas for some R and R). During the entire flight, I didn't hear a single one of them utter one word of English. This leads me to believe that our government has decided to employ one of my ideas from a former post. (to recap, the idea was to put a sign on the Mexico side of the border that reads in English "If you would like to volunteer for service in the U.S. Army, please climb over this fence to the other side" thus solving the problem of illegal immigration while bolstering our levies of fighting men and women. (Blogger's Note: For those reading this that might not know me very well, please be assured that these comments are in the vein of satire meant to expose the dangers of ignorance and have a little fun. I have learned a lot from those of other cultures and hope to continue my explorations for some time to come!)

2- Some Bees, called "Africanized" are aggressive and have been known to follow you and continue to make nuisances of themselves even as you attempt to disengage and remove to a safe distance (the staff of the SW branch had a run in with such a gang winged bad asses the day before my arrival. Many "ouches" and "dammits" were had by all. Maybe even a "friggin' bastard.")

3- Some redneck, loud, obnoxious and of course... fat... travelers are apparently "Africanized" as well. I ran into such a pair while a prisoner at the Las Vegas airport. While resting in the terminal, passing the time with some truly world class people watching, the husband and wife began their coordinated assault. Despite there being an entire row of empty seats to my left, they elected to sit directly adjacent to me. The mass of the wife easily defied the boundaries of her seat and I retreated to the farthest edge of mine to no avail. Her hip (I think) or dorsal fin (possibly) ...touched me (the horror!). Fearing further flesh-battery, I moved to another vantage point which I felt was a safe distance away. With one eye on the circling menace and the other on the clock, I lapsed into semi-consciousness, waiting for my flight to begin boarding.

Upon entering the plane, I learned to my relief that the flight was only half booked and there would be plenty of room to spread out. I was also encouraged to learn that my seat was in the back of the plane, nearly the last row. Ah...solitude.

Right. Not this trip.

Slowly, inexorably, they marched down the aisle, with John Williams' Jaws theme playing behind them, passing one empty row after another, crashing down into the two seats directly in front of me. At this point I looked out the window to make sure a wing wasn't missing. "What's next?" I thought. A Gremlin ripping up an engine? Would our pilot turn out to be JFK Jr... with John Denver as the co-pilot? Were there rugby players on board? I resigned myself to my fate and amidst loud guffaws, guttural noises and seat adjustments, I leaned back, shutting everything out, attaining a Zen state of relaxed calm and tranquility.

And then she farted.

I don't remember anything after that. When next I became aware, the plane was on the ground in Arizona. They continued on to terrorize Tokyo and I escaped into the balmy pre-dawn darkness of Tucson.

Before I show you some photos of the NOLS Southwest Headquarters, I'll share with you a brief anecdote that sums up living in the desert. I was preparing to leave for a run last night and asked one of the staff that's still here whether it was safe to run on the road at night or if I should wait until morning. He responded "do you mean safe from cars or from snakes?" "Tomorrow it is" I said.

The front gate of the Southwest branch

A wide angle view of the campus.

The climbing wall

The main house

The pool area

The "bunk house" area where I'm sleeping

The patio area with grill and fireplace

And so... as the sun sets in Tucson sky, I bid you a fond farewell! Until the next post amigos!!

- Mitch

A Premonition, A Decision, and Long Awaited Fruition

What a last three days I've had.

Monday: Received an email from a good friend of mine with the gift. She said she had a dream about me and that I had finally heard from the Peace Corps. She told me to be on the lookout. As usual, I cynically thought "sure, I'll be right there" and prepared myself for more waiting.

Tuesday 3pm: I'm sitting in Barnes and Noble, decompressing (i.e. impressing all the hot ladies by reading a graphic novel, DC's Infinite Crisis actually) when my phone rings. I check the number, see the 202 area code and my heart starts to race. 202 is D.C. , Washington D.C. I'm thinking this is it. I let it go to voicemail just to make sure. I check the message and sure enough, it's "Carmen" from the PC placement office, and she has an invitation she'd like to discuss with me. Again, it's like all of my nerves lit up at once. Almost shaking with anticipation, butterflies in my stomach, I went outside to call her back. This was it, I'm finally going to find out where In Asia I'll be spending my two years!! Philippines? Cambodia?


I get Carmen on the phone and she throws me the curve ball. It seemed the PC had a shortage of applicants with business experience for a posting in the Caucuses. For the geographically challenged, think Georgia (not Jimmy Carter GA) and the Ukraine. The placement folks saw my background and it made sense to see if I would be willing to take that posting. Taken completely by surprise, I came unhinged. I spent the next few minutes on the phone sounding like an idiot, or maybe a ssssstroke v-v-victim.

"er...uh..yeah... I see. er...Caucuses? wow...er... Ham Sandwich... hmmm...yeah."

I told Carmen I wanted to think it over but I'd let her know before 5pm on Wednesday. I hung up the phone and my head promptly flew off into outer space.

Tuesday 4pm: I needed to get grounded. I needed some advice. I tried to get in touch with my recruiter...but she was out of the office. I chatted with a couple of close friends with some experience with government service and for the most part, over thought the whole thing. I really want to help out, but the prospect of changing both my primary project (from teaching to business development) and my region from Asia to the mountains between Europe, Russia and India kinda threw me for a loop. I had to go teach English class, but all I wanted to do was to look up the Caucuses on the internet and start running through my decision making process.

Well, I finally decided that since it took me several weeks of research and scenario running to decide on my original region that it didn't make sense to choose a new path based on only a few hours. Also, I was really enjoying the new prosepct of teaching for a living.

Wednesday 4:30: After much over analysis, weeping wailing and gnashing of teeth, I called Carmen back to let her know my decision and to make sure that she understood that I really want to help, but feel like the best option was to follow my original path. I was worried it would look bad if I didn't agree to help out however they needed. Carmen assured me it wouldn't count against me. I felt better. But, I was back at the waiting game again. Crap.

Thursday 2pm: Finally got a call back from my recruiter. I returned her call and let her know about the alternative offer, of my decision to decline, and of my concerns about it reflecting poorly on me. She agreed with Carmen's statement that this would not be a big issue and for me not to worry about it. I felt better. But again, I was back to the waiting. Crap Crap Crap.

Thursday 3:30: In Barnes and Noble again. Finishing DC's Infinite Crisis. Phone rings again. Again, it's a 202 area code...D.C. This time I answer. It's Patrick, who identifies himself as my placement officer. I'm not sure what to expect at this point but I say "how are you doing?" I have no heartbeat.

Patrick says he spoke to my recruiter from Denver, and that I shouldn't worry about the whole Caucuses decision. In fact, after a few questions about why I wanted to be a teacher and what I've been doing to qualify myself, he let me know that my Invitation packet would be going in the mail Friday. Just like that.

So...It's Friday, almost 2am as I type this. I'm wired. But, the wait is almost over. In a few hours the packet will be in the mail. The wait is almost over.

Been a helluva few days.

Ants, Evolution and True Power

Today while I was running, I came upon an elaborate network of small ant hills. Trying not to break my stride, I had to do a pretty ungainly tap dance to avoid demolishing the carefully crafted mounds. It occurred to me briefly that, not knowing I was trying to avoid playing Godzilla to a tiny ant-sized Tokyo, other people on the trail may have thought I'd lost my mind, my balance or both. I imagined myself one of the passers by asking themselves "why did he do that?". Why indeed?

I can remember back when I was a "young'un" (as my Granny would say) many an anthill became the object of my scrutiny. With nearly scientific deliberateness, I would observe the comings and goings of the ants. Then, with no malice or rancor, I would plop my foot down on one mound at a time and then observe the resulting chaos in ant land. (Author's note: I realize acts of violence, committed against a society at large, without malice or rancor are consistent with psychopathic behavior. To the best of my knowledge, I was not, in fact a psychopath, although by this definition, most of the kids I knew sure were. Not me, I'm damn well adjusted! ...quid pro quo Clarice..)

Now as an adult, (my Pajamas no longer have feet in them) I look back and understand this behavior as a demonstration of mankind's fascination with power. In a primitive sense, power is truly defined, only truly realized when it is exerted by one party over another. These demonstrations are everywhere, some natural, some necessary, some needless: The cat making a morsel of the mouse; The bully in the schoolyard; the tire-smoking, redneck peel out from a stop light; nations at war; and yes, the foot of a juvenile Godzilla crushing an anthill.

True power is something more subtle, more sublime. By introducing civility into the primitive equation we can observe true power. True power is overcoming the primitive need to apply your power at any opportunity. True power is being comfortable with one's ability without the demonstration.

So I no longer go about crushing anthills. I encourage this evolution in others where I can.

Chat at ya soon!

-Meeyatch

Holy Crap... I'm Blogging!

Well, It was bound to happen sooner or later. This blog is the latest in a long series of valiant attempts to capture wit, worry, whimsy and God knows what else. Keep your fingers crossed and one eye covered. Like J. Phoenix said in 8mm... "some things you can't unsee."

Here is what I know: I'm 38 years old. I've spent the first part of my life (post formal education that is) evolving from primordial ooze ( read "retail management") to a semi-sentient larvae (Corporate tadpole). I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Ever since my corporate intervention (layoff) forced me to kick my material habit I've come to learn only one thing clearly... that what I've been doing up to now isn't doing it for me. I want more.

Since around July 2005, I've been in what I'm calling my Pupa stage. A period of fundamental transformation. The caterpiller turns into the butterfly (awww... such imagery... ). Over the past two years, I've been camped out inside my chrysalis, refusing to emerge until I feel like I'm ready. After all, a butterfly without wings is just a roach...or roach-like bug... you know what I mean. I've volunteered at an exotic cat sanctuary in Tampa, sold my house, moved to Arizona, took a whitewater guide course in Utah, received a Wilderness Medicine certification, worked for an outdoor school gear shop in Wyoming for a summer and finally, joined the Peace Corps. In all of these things, one mantra has guided me, helped me justify certain sacrifices and kept me from getting too happy with my comfy cocoon: I wish to live an unlikely life.

So with that in mind, here I am. Currently I'm waiting for my Peace Corps invitation which will let me know, finally, which country i'll be off to. I've been through several application stages, multiple interviews, legal background checks, psychological evaluations, been poked and prodded in every conceivable way by all the doctors there are (you using the whole fist doc? Moooooon River....). If you can contract it, I've been tested for it. And inoculated against it. It's been a long seven months since I started the process. Unless something is changed at the last minute, I should be teaching English somewhere in Asia (Philippines, Thailand, Mongolia, China or Cambodia). I'm ready to go.

This blog will help me keep track of some of my rants, ponderings, insane ramblings and other silly crap as I progress through my transformation. Literally and figuratively, I have no idea where I'm going to end up. I'll be heading where the adventure takes me. That will do until I get my wings.