Dear Prudence, the Beatles

I am not a patient person. In fact, I'm pretty sure I am one of the most impatient people in the world. I hate surprises, especially if I know that it's coming, because I'm impatient and I hate waiting.

Unfortunately, I forgot to take this personality trait into account when applying for the Peace Corps. Most of what you do is wait, be patient and... wait. We call it "being flexible". While I can be flexible - I can deal with whatever changes are thrown at me when I'm being let in on the secret - I cannot be patient. I think this stems from my inability to sit still, both in respect to my ability to be flexible to changes and challenges that come my way, but my inability to be patient.

I'm in the Peace Corps. I know that. And it's for sure this time. No cancellations, no security warnings, no budget cuts will stop my journey. My wonderfully patient and helpful placement officer continuously reminds me of this - something I appreciate greatly. But the details are what I'm missing - and the details are the hardest part to wait for. I know the general area, but the general area is so large that that barely means anything. I have a hint, but hints aren't any good until confirmation is reached.

I'm sure if the cancellations, the security and safety issues and the budget cuts hadn't impeded my journey, this impatience would not be a problem. But then, I would already be on the ground, abroad and on my way if that had been the case. And, well, I'm still in the United States.

I'm a child of the internet age. By the time I went to high school, we had 4 computers in a house of 4 people. We each had our own, and we each used our own. We had internet in our home long before we each had our own computer, and I had an email address by 5th grade. I can't really remember using it very much at all, but I had one and that's all that matters.

Now, I have a smart phone, a computer, an ipod that can connect to wifi. If I want information, I can search for it online, call a friend or send an email. I have access to everything, except for the one thing I want. That's coming snail mail, at it's own pace, and will show up whenever it feels like it. And I can only wait. Technology spoils me.

My mom is a person that only gets excited when something is in her hand and concrete. So while I was waiting through the whole process, becoming pleased by small victories - submitting my application, scheduling an interview, receiving my nomination, medical clearance and finally, word of my invitation - mostly because I knew the process would be so long, but this whole time, she was waiting for this point. She still is.

I honestly thought this process would teach me patience. Hell, maybe it did. But I've been patient and accepting for 10 months; I can't be patient anymore.