I feel like a whirling dirvish

Five days ago I arrived in Philly and met all of my team. 70+ people. And we did what everyone loves to do when they meet 70+ people- we played ice breakers. Lots of them. I quickly questioned whether it was worth it, the trade-off of two years of service in exchange for two days of ice breakers, but the days ended and I'm still here. One woman isn't, but the rest of us stayed.

Now we're all in Mauritania (RIM), and we are in transition. Now I'm in Nouakchott, the capital. Tonight we head out to Kaedi for training. A week from then we get host families. It's surreal.

But the long and short of all of it is that I'm in Mauritania, I'm safe, and things are happening. Quickly. If I'm incoherent then I apologize. Part of the Peace Corps acclimation process seems to be sleep deprivation to eliminate any inconvenient sleep patterns.

Au Revoir

A few hours from now I'll be en route to Mauritania. I don't know how much access I'll have to e-mail for some time to come, but I plan to keep this blog up as well as I am able.

Anyone who wants to keep my morale up, please send me stuff. Notes, postcards, packages, I'm not picky. Here's the address; I should receive anything within three months of mailing, from what I hear, so don't send puppies.

David Westervelt
Corps de la Paix
B.P. 222
Nouakchott, Mauritania
West Africa

The World According To Darp. Davearp. No, Darp.

I think I've put my finger on why I'm flipping out. 27 months is a long time, Africa is nowhere near here, and I will be all but incommunicado. And the world will go on anyway.

Today I heard from my mother that Chris Kaldor died. Chris was an old friend's father, and our families are close. He was a good man, quiet but truly good. His mother lives in Cabot, and his family was there for him. His funeral is coming up. If he died in July, I wouldn't be able to go to mourn him with his loved ones. And in two years time, other people who I know, people who matter to me, whose families matter to me, may well die, and I won't be able to go to their funerals. I might not even know for months.

Being in my late twenties, my friends are getting married. Plenty already have, but there are presumably more to come. I can't come home for all of them. How many celebrations will I miss? How many kids?

I've met a few great people in Massachusettes, DC, South Lake. I'm glad to have known them as long as I have, but I feel like I'm leaving behind friends before they're even really friends.

I thought that sacrifices would be easier because I have a long-term goal in mind. Apparently I was mistaken.

Emoting Like John Kerry

As my departure draws inexorably closer, my nervous system is continuing on its steady march towards collapse.

I try not to let it affect my life too much. I think that's for the best. No, instead of accepting and managing my emotions, I'm just ignoring them. And it's working out great. Take my diet, for instance. Normally I try to eat three meals a day, all of which should be at least somewhat healthy. But now that my unacknowledged emotions are eating me from the inside, I find that I'm not hungry at all. I'm dropping weight like Oprah in the even months!

Or my daily life. Normally I have projects that I see through, people I talk with, activities, reading, television. But now I can't concentrate on anything. The TV is on for ten minutes, but it seems so insipid and stupid that I turn it off (though that may have more to do with maturing taste), or if I pick up a book I find myself reaching for the bookmark before I've read two pages. My apprehension has relieved me of the need to actually do things. Talk about a time saver!

Or interpersonal relationships. I'm always somewhere else, wondering how things will go. Do I have everything ready, or at least close to it? Am I competent enough? Am I smart enough? Will I just fuck everything up? Conversations are so much simpler if I push everyone away by being distant and needy in turns.

And let's not forget my metabolism. With my heart constantly beating like a marathon runner's and my breathing at panic state, my metabolism is naturally rising like mercury on a summer day in the desert.

Now if you'll excuse me, my attention span has reached its limit.