Things are set: On Saturday 1 June at 8:30 a.m. I’ll leave Tri-Cities for Charlotte where I’ll stay for about two hours before I leave for Washington, arriving in the capitol at 11:00 a.m. No one will be there to meet me at the airport, so I’ll have to get a taxi or something I guess. The registration begins at 2:00 and goes until around 3:30 — I believe we can register anytime in that hour and a half, so I might head out and explore for a while, though I’m not sure it would be the greatest idea. We have meetings until 6:30, at which time I suppose we’re free for the evening.
In three weeks I’m leaving. Am I the biggest fool on the face of the earth? What the hell am I doing? It’s going to be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, and it will also be the most rewarding thing I’ve ever experienced. In the meantime I’ve got a lot of things to do: people to see, things to buy, issues to clear up. I’ll be busy, to say the least.
Also included in the packet was a guide to luggage restrictions. I might have to check in my pack instead of taking it as carry-on luggage. The carry-on baggage is very small in volume and it can only weight eleven pounds. That will restrict my packing ability a great deal. I’ll probably have to get my parents to send the guitar at a later date.
I’m feeling quite dead. I have nothing to say. I’ve dried up, as if I think nothing whatsoever. I can’t stand this. I have had so much to write about in the past, and now I am empty. Is it because of the Peace Corps? Am I simply so overwhelmed that I can’t find the words to express the feelings? The problem is that I don’t feel anything. I’m just biding my time, waiting for the tremendous reality of what I’m about to do to come thundering down around me. It’s overwhelming, to say the least, and yet I don’t feel overwhelmed that often. It’s a strange experience, a strange emotion (or lack thereof).