follow the yellow-brick road

This is the beginning of the end; the beginning of the road home. There is a little more than two months left until I leave the wonderful world of Kazakhstan for America. This week all of the 15th group of Kazakhstan volunteers have been gathered together to reminisce and contemplate the miriad of problems that will face us as we spiral downward towards our close of service and re-enter a world that probably won't understand us, or what we've been through. We also get to have our blood taken, stool catalogued, and testicles probed. At the least, the conference has been a good excuse to party with the people who have been our friends and family for the last two years.


Part of my re-entry procedure includes going to graduate school in the Fall. The past half year has been replete with papers and emails and headaches to get it all squared away - and not just for me, but for my power-of-attorney-empowered dad (thanks dad). Last night I had an interview over the phone with two people in the Residence Life department of the University of Maryland for a graduate assistant position. I feel that it went well, but in any case I should hear back from them next week sometime.


So my readjustment to the US will be exascerbated by graduate work, a 20-hour-a-week job, tutoring, Russian language, and finding an apartment, let alone trying to relate to my family and friends that I haven't seen for a couple years, and having them realize that I've changed, but they aren't sure how. Although I'm glad to go home, the biggest thing that I worry about is that I won't be able to (quickly) readjust to the fast-paced, consumerist, set-the-bar-too-high society. In which case I may have to click my heels together whispering into the wind, "There's no place like home. There's no place like home." Hoping that it will take me to the place of best fit.