In which Alisa writes a love letter of sorts (to DC, chill):

DC is not my town and it never has been. If you know me you've definitely heard me complain about the weather (seriously, there's only like two good weeks a year; the rest is crazy humid, stupid cold/windy, or cherry blossoms-which I'm allergic to), the drivers and traffic, the metro (my god, there are no words for the amount of fail that seems to go into metro), and the people (who I think are generally self-involved, self-entitled, and political about things that aren't even remotely political). So with that in mind, I thought leaving DC would be the easiest, most freeing thing ever. I mean I've been here almost nine years, that's a long time for my DC hate to fester. But somehow this stupid city and a handful of its people managed to grow like a fungus on me.

I'm going to miss the food like woah! And I know DC is not known for being a culinary town, but you try growing up in Bristol and you'd miss the plethora of non-chains DC's got going too. I'm going to miss walking downtown on my way to work and thinking, "Holy crap, how the hell did I get here and where are all the cows, and pick-up trucks, and tractors!?" And I'm going to miss the fact that there's public transportation and cabs!, real museums and culture, and you know, POTUS just chilling down the street. For all of DC's flaws, I guess it is occasionally kind of a cool city.

But most of all, I'm going to miss all you fungus people. And you know who you are, so I'm not going into a big listing thing. Just assume that if you're reading this and in the DC area, you're probably fungusy to me.

I'm not sure what my town will end up being but I'm pretty sure of a few of things: it won't be Bristol, it won't be DC (but that definitely doesn't mean I won't be seeing you all), and I promise you guys, it won't be somewhere in Morocco. I guess like the rest of my life post-Peace Corps, I'll just slap a big TBD on it and hope I figure it out along the way.

Much love and warm fuzzies,
Alisa

PS-
I won't have a cell phone starting Friday (Feb 25) so it's gmail and facebook from here on out, folks.
Also, last day in DC: Feb 27, last day in Bristol: March 13, last day in the US: March 15. AHHHHHH!!!

In which Alisa finds her spirit rapper (instead of animal- shut up and just go with it, okay?):

So I haven't updated this thing in a while and that's for several reasons. One, there hasn't been that much to update on. Two, I've been a little busy. And three, I'm freaking out hardcore.

Now that Morocco is only a mere 32 days away, it's pretty much all anyone talks to me about and that's totally understandable. My reaction of, "Morocco! I know! So exciting! I have to go over here for a minute! Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!", is not however. Let me preface this by saying I am not backing out of Peace Corps or even seriously considering it (I maybe occasionally have fantasies of running away to Texas, pretending I did Peace Corps, faking some pictures of camels, and telling no one but Britany what really happened), I'm just having a standard Alisa freak out, but on a much, much larger scale. I don't really like change, but sometimes I become a little masochistic and decide I need to shake things up and in a big way. So I move to DC for school instead of going to Tech like all my friends, and I shoot for a job that let me travel all over the place for a bunch of crazy Saudis instead of playing it safe at the bank, and now I'm doing Peace Corps. In case you didn't notice, the biggest, craziest change of the above three? It's Peace Corps. Hence the epic Alisa freak out. Honestly, I'm sure I'll be fine in Morocco and it'll end up being the best thing I've ever done, but right now I can't even think about it lest I induce cardiac arrest.

And now we get to the point of the title of this entry. I've discovered a wonderful, wonderful coping mechanism and his name is Biggie Smalls. When I start freaking out about whether or not I can actually handle Peace Corps and Morocco and all that they'll entail, I just put on some Biggie ("grab your **censored, so I don't offend my poor Mother** if you love hip-hop, rub your **censored again!** if you love Big Poppa") and I instantly become the most badass version of myself possible (admittedly that's still not very b.a., but it's an improvement, all right?). So if I start sounding like a deceased (RIP) New York rapper, don't judge. I'm just coping, okay?

And now some random stuff. Below is a picture of my luggage. I've had some serious buyer's remorse (also part of the epic Alisa freak out) about if I bought the right type of duffel, but I think it's going to be okay.

You can't tell from the above picture, but it also has pop-out straps so I can carry it on my back. It's also almost as tall as me, so that's going to be fun, and funny.

And just FYI everyone, I'll be in DC until the 27th-ish and then back in Bristol until March 13th.

So, Morocco! I know! So exciting! I have to go over here for a minute! Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

In which Alisa is completely overwhelmed and procrastinates (what's new?):

I'll probably (maybe) delete this entry once I'm set to leave because it's just going to be a really boring list of all of the stuff I need to get done in order to you know, actually leave.

So, list!:

1. Send passport off ASAP
2. Finish aspiration statement of doom ASAP
3. Fill out legal paperwork
4. Fill out press packet (joining Peace Corps is a little like becoming a minor celebrity, except for the part where it's totally not)
5. Clean up files at work
6. Do all the work stuff I was planning on doing as a "learning exercise" with my replacement since there will be no time to train them.
7. Write a document that tells my replacement how to do everything
8. Find my lease and see if I need to pay rent for February or not (let's cross our fingers for not)
9. Further look into U-haul/storage/movers stuff
10. Start buying some of the crap on my epic packing list
11. Make photo albums of all your lovely faces and my ugly mug
12. Organize my stuff so I know what to get rid of/pack
13. CLEAN ALL THE THINGS
14. Burn some awesome cds --
      -- side note: I found the best local DC band EVER and of course this is right before I leave.
          http://www.myspace.com/themoderate - listen to Chapel Hill or any of the songs listed
          really and you're welcome.
15. Take some self defense at some point?
16. LEARN ANOTHER FOX NEWS LANGUAGE. Darija why are you so difficult... and guttural sounding? 
17. Get student loan deferment forms
18. Do something with my one bajillion Bikram passes. Hi there, Stanley. :)
19. Fill out the power of attorney stuff and make a living will. Don't freak out, Mom. 
20. Cancel subscriptions (tanning, netflix, I think that might be it...)
21. Oh! Go tanning (shuttup! I don't want to deal with a sunburn on top of having to poop in a hole).
22. Change address for everything ever, dear lord.
23. Stuff my face with bacon and alcohol. I'm like 100% sure this one will get done.
24. Get addresses! Send me your addresses please?
25. Other stuff I am sure I'm forgetting...

In which Alisa is a neurotic sap monster:

First, I cannot belive how amazing everyone has been. It really makes this whole Peace Corps thing a little bittersweet. From the notoriously grumpy old man at work who did a little dance when he found out I got in, to the old co-worker who now works for Peace Corps getting to process my invitation and write me a good luck note in my info packet (how many other Volunteers can say that?!), to my wonderful, wonderful friends who have been the definition of support (I know, so sappy!), and to my parents who are trying their hardest to be excited for me despite their many reservations. I honestly thought people would just be like, "Oh. Okay. Peace out!" and I have been proven so very wrong. And it helps so much to have this support to think back on when I have my occasional moments of "Oh, god. WHAT HAVE I DONE." Because this is for real, y'all. Like for real, for real. Like I have officially quit my job and gave notice on my apartment real. Ohmygod, you guys.

Second, I made a packing list in Excel. It has 3 tabs and over 120 rows. I spent 4 hours on it. I also left off underwear. I am terribly afraid this will be indicative of my time in Morocco.

Third, I've been reading up on Health Volunteers in Morocco and it kind of sounds like they get the short end of the stick. While most Moroccan Volunteers can expect electricity, internet access, or running water if not all three, Health Volunteers are warned that will probably not be the case for them. This explains why I can find no blogs written by Health Volunteers. They're too busy pooping in a hole (like I'd forget about that) in the dark to walk the however many Fox News (see what I did there, Mom?) miles it takes them to get to a village with internet. So this blog might come to an abrupt end come mid-March. I've decided I'll poop in a hole if I have to, but after only three posts I've become a little attached to this blog writing business. Here's hoping I won't have to give it up.

Fourth, I am apparently expected to already be working on my Darija. So fair warning, I will probably be harrassing you all with my pathetic Southern-girl attempts at Arabic in the coming weeks. Enjoy!

In which Alisa is officially Moroccan and a rollin':

March 16th, 2011, a tbd village (fingers crossed for Essaouira) in Morocco, y'all.

Edit: Haha, Peace Corps was just kidding. They really meant March 15th, with me flying out to staging on the 13th. No biggie, PC. I didn't need those extra three days or anything. It's not like I have to pack, move, unpack, buy a bunch of crap, pack again for two years, and say goodbye to all my friends and family in less than two weeks. Oh, wait....