Well, I 'spose, it's 'bout that time

16 days. 16 days until I leave Maryland behind. 16 days until I party all day at the airport from when they drop 200 corps members off in one fell swoop at BWI at noon until 6:30pm when my flight actually leaves. 16 days until I descend upon the (hopefully) snow-covered and welcoming Minnesota. 16 days until I relax in a bed that doesn't look as if it was found in an alley used to dump bodies. 16 days until I can sleep in late and wear whatever I want as long as it isn't gray and khaki. 17 days until I remember why I left in the first place and think longingly with a selective memory of the past 10 months.


But, for now, I'll think only of the next 16 days. Six.teen.days. 4 days trying to return Baltimore to its green, pre-colonized and pre-industrialized condition and the remaining 12 preparing for graduation and the mystical (and I assume fictional) "Life After AmeriCorps." A time which is rapidly bearing down on us screaming war cries and sending us into a blind panic. Despite the fear our impending unemployment brings to us all, we are running toward it with the exuberance of a dehydrated man stumbling through the desert who spots an oasis. We know the goal we're running for will most likely in no way bring us the satisfaction we are imagining, but we hurry toward it anyway with desperate optimism.




On Raven 5 we eat our feelings.














I know I'm going to miss this program and my team and the traveling and the projects, but right at this moment I'm over it and ready to be a capitalist for a little bit. With my massive student debt looming over me I feel pressure to begin to repay it and re-enter into a workforce that will give me monetary compensation as opposed to moral compensation. I've received an overwhelming number of heartfelt thanks for my work this year, but while my conscience is appeased, my wallet is not. Nor is my thirst for international travel which cannot be accomplished without an income. So, alas, I must regretfully leave this life behind and look eagerly towards the future and opportunities to come. I am ready for a change. I am (almost) ready to be a real person. 16 days!


While we've been in Baltimore doing good deeds we have, of course, been noticed by the media.

http://app.bronto.com/public/?q=preview_message&fn=Link&t=1&ssid=15161&id=5t0zjahzsfyh8d9n4df6e3ye2bqbz&id2=0ybjdu3cfa5ydguwcwbzyd0kajxkx&subscriber_id=atagihdctmpqopcflzgtaqkqvdfqbai&messageversion_id=auuwacajwfmhlbbgajxgdzbeerepbak&delivery_id=bxexlzumqcyzrigpytclckehegxabfp&tid=3.Ozk.KaXM.GTU.Wi0..qNQ.b..l.BRw.a.TM8cQA.TM8cQA.-9Xc-A
Click on Dirty Hands, Green Dreams. I wasn't interviewed because I was too busy planting trees, but my team is kind of a big deal. We're in an e-zine.


We're also must be a huge deal because we got our picture taken by strangers several times this past weekend. Okay, so maybe it was just my teammate and it was because he was dressed up as a gay Mexican grizzly bear for the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear in D.C., but I'd like to think it was because we're famous.
That's right, I was among the mob of 215,000 people at the National Mall on Oct. 30th for the rally. It was pretty wicked cool because luckily I'm tall enough that I could see the giant TV screens erected throughout the mall and even part of the actual stage though nothing that was going on upon it... As expected we had a hell of a time trying to get out of the mall and back to the metro and this is where the real adventure began. I had to bright idea to get out of the national mall and head towards Chinatown to eat. Yeah, me and 50,000 others thought the same thing. Bugger.

So we decide to brave the subway. We actually get on with no incident but we were unceremoniously booted out two stops early due to track maintenance or some such BS. We crossed to the other side of the track where we were told a train would be coming for us. As we paced another train did come. To dump off another massive load of post-rally participants just as confused and irritated as us. It was when the third of these mobbed the platform and no trains had come to relieve the crowd that we decided that 3 miles wasn't that far of a walk and headed out of the subway. Thinking of the hour ahead of us was none too comforting as we began our trek, until...we stumbled upon a city bike rental kiosk.

Oh yeah, we rented bikes.

It cost $5.00 and cutting out 40 minutes from our commute seemed entirely worth it. Except for the $101 hold they put on your bank account in case the bike is messed up. The hold that stays on your account for 5 days. The hold that is over 60% of one paycheck. The hold that may prevent some celebratory end-of-program bursts of spending. Actually, this may be a good thing...


And lastly, 5 months later and an article posted by Gretchen Anderson lifts the shroud covering the origin of the horror I endured in the south.
http://www.commondreams.org/view/2010/09/17
Compare this picture to the one I posted ages ago of my horrible mystery Louisiana rash. I should probably do the American thing and sue BP. Right?