Ch ch ch ch ch changes

One of my least favorite peace corps moments occurred during staging, way back in far-off Philadelphia. We had to split into groups based on our creative interests and come up with some sort of artistic representation of a volunteer's experience. Writers, dancers, artists, story-tellers and musicians are the groups I can remember and, although writers tempted me, I could think only of my already missed piano keys and found myself suddenly standing with the musical group. I had alot of fun with the group up until the moment we were standing in front of all the other trainees and staff members, playing our little 30 second ditty based on Bowie's "Changes", as I tapped the rhythm with a pencil against a coffee cup and tried to sing. Up until that moment, I'd like to think that I had succeeded in fooling the others. Up until then, I had padded down my self consciousness with as much friendly conversation and outgoingness as possible, but I can still envision myself up there, from the point of view of the audience, and see the red tinge filter into my cheeks and the little wall of confidence break down as I stared fixedly at a stain on the floor. My desire to abolish shy Erin withered away and died within those thirty seconds, ironically while singing "Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes".

There were indeed things that I had hoped to change about myself while here, but am finding it so much harder to do than originally planned. I had half-way expected to be a different person the moment I set foot in Romania, like magic. And when that didn't happen, I thought maybe after swear-in. Maybe after settling in at site. Maybe after a year. But no. I'm still an introvert. I still love being alone. I still have to pump myself up and give myself pep-talks and lectures about how good interaction is just to go to coffee with a friend. And I do it, gladly, but it'll never be natural for me. I'll never be a natural PCV. Why is it so difficult to be the person one badly wants to be?

I do have to wonder, though, how my lack of outgoingness sits with others, especially my local friends. I often think about my own expectations for my time here and what I'm doing now as compared to what I thought I'd be doing, but what about the people who applied for a volunteer and went out of their way to bring a stranger into their lives? Did my landlord envision a second daughter who would come over every weekend to bake cookies and chat? Did my counterpart expect a capable colleague to sit by her side and share in the woes and gossip of working in the agency? Am I anywhere near what they had hoped for? I have no way of knowing, but based on my own experiences, which vary massively from my expectations, the answer is no. But also based on my experiences, that isn't such a bad thing.