But...why?

Since I'm approaching graduation (60 days to go!) it's a regular (as in, nearly daily) occurrence to be accosted with some form or another of the question: "What are your plans for after graduation?" As such, I've developed a fairly regular routine for answering. It generally consists of an obligatory "actually," followed by an apprehensive but convincing: "I'm joining the Peace Corps" accompanied by a partial smile-smirk and close observation of all verbal and nonverbal reactions to the answer.

Responses vary... I've gotten everything from "good for you, I've always wanted to do that!" to the average "you're just postponing the inevitable, you have to get a real job someday" to the "[long awkward pause, combined with facial expressions that give away mental calculations of whether or not they should continue conversing or turn and run from such maniacal being] ...why on earth would you want to do that?"

Following any range of those answers, the conversation generally comes back to the the usual what, when and where questions... Usually ending in that persons frustration with the lack of detail I can provide. But occasionally I get the follow up question: "But...why?"

That simple question is one of the most confounding dilemmas I frequently encounter. First of all, the questions itself. In a society where we use: "hey, how are you?" as a casual greeting, giving very little thought as to the depth of the potential answer to that question, nor usually caring to actually engage in any meaningful conversation about the state of the persons being, it would be ignorant of me to assume that the asker has a genuine interest in my precise motives about joining the PC.

My second frustration is my lack of a succinct answer to the question. My motivation for joining cannot be summed up into a quick, well-rehearsed answer that I can easily spit out to people who inquire. It's a part of who I am. Which I suppose is as close to a concise reason as I can come up with, but not one I'll easily volunteer, at the risk of sounding corny beyond all get out.

Rabbit trail: This same phenomenon occurs fairly often when it comes to my dreadlocks. Actually, not five minutes ago I was approached by a complete stranger who, without any introduction or warning, stated: "I need to smell your hair" and then proceeded to stoop down and take a big ole whiff of my locks. Admittedly, that's the first time I've gotten that one. But I do, without fail, receive a never ending cascade of: "how did you do that to your hair?" "how long have you had dreads?" "do you put wax/honey/other random substance in them?" "do you wash them" (Answer key for all of you curious cats...backcombing, 5 months, no, yes.) All of those questions come with varying degrees of actual curiosity, disgust, and ignorance. To be expected, I suppose. But once in a while, I get the why question. Why. Why? Why did you straighten your hair this morning? Why did you braid it? Why did you put it in a ponytail? Why didn't you wash it? Blah, blah, blah...Anyways, I'm almost equally at a loss to describe my reasons for dreading my hair as I am for telling you why I'm joining the Peace Corps.

For the record, I'm working on developing a short (still probably more of a paragraph than a sentence), accurate answer. Look for it soon!