Today the Peace Corps staff gave me a number.
Actually they gave me a bunch of numbers, but the only one I cared about was a ranking, out of ten, that determined if I will be sworn in or not. The answer is yes. I "needed" a tinge and I am a 4.5 on the Spanish scale. I guess this means you can throw me in the middle of only spanish speakers and I won't freak out. I probably couldn't successfully explain the difference between ESL and EFL, but I can explain that I am from the United States and like to eat oatmeal.
I've been stressed about passing the test, but I should have known the peace corps wouldn't spend all of your valuable tax dollars getting me here if they weren't going to try their hardest to keep me here and functioning.
After today, I'm on my own. Training is over. I am officially a free bird. I'm free to drink coffee, learn more Spanish, and convince my uncle I'm actually going to do some work here.
I have to commend two fellow volunteers on their Spanish work. They went from a 1 to a 5. They practice non stop and read our Spanish verb books on the regular. I've been reading them too, but not at the rate they are. I hope I gain confidence in the next few months. That is where my real problem lies. I tell myself I don't speak Spanish and voila, I don't. Now, I have to... If I want any success at all I have to pick up the pace.
Okay, I'm going to take a shower, fix my hair, apply makeup, put on high heeled shoes, and become a peace corps volunteer. I'm ready. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time now. The decision was made and I can't back out now.
I miss you all.
(If you're reading this three years from the day it was written, this may not be true any longer, but you understand what I mean here.)
I love you.
I'm 23 tomorrow.
What will my 23rd year look like?