when they get into a car and go

My mom is selling Arbonne now. It's "not" a pyramid scheme. Their "motivational" and "training" materials tell her to find her "why." (Okay those last quotes actually do belong there.) The "why" is your motivation for selling Arbonne skin and beauty/health products. You have to think about it and come up with your own "why." It should be something noble--usually a reason for having more money, like donating it to Unicef or something. Mom's "why" was that when I find God again she can have enough money on hand to support me in the Christian ministry that I'm going to set up.

Lump.

I've been through why I don't like the network marketing stuff with her: It's based on a structure that means you can only make enough money by simultaneously selling the product AND getting other people "under" you selling it too. It's about as sustainable as a Fourth of July sparkler--and everyone knows you can write your first and maybe last name but NEVER your middle name with those little punks. But mom believes in the product. It's skin products without bioengineered hormone-enhanced condor hides. And you get a free Mercedes-Benz if you make Regional Vice President or some position like that (serious about that part). The problem is that the people that are good at selling Arbonne--both the products and the company--they're all slick. My mother is not slick. What an odd feeling, seeing someone you love putting her beautiful self into something you don't love at all--and realizing that while she may get burned, your only real option is to encourage her. And I don't even have kids yet. I don't like it.

Since when do you venture capitalists have the right to take my mom's desire for me to find God and use it to expand your not-pyramid?

***

I've thought about how not to make this next part sound like a pity party and I can't. But it's not supposed to sound like that. So make like an attractive female in a horror film and ignore the implications . .

Bangladesh is a ghost in my head now. What's worse, I seem to care less about the people than I did when I left--at least it feels that way. I got on the plane feeling pissed off and distraught: "You (that is, the Man) are not gonna get me down. I am coming back and I am going to bring U2 with me and we are going to really CHANGE things and I'm going to give my shoes to the orphans and give hope to the hopeless and get a great tan and Oh hey, are these honey roasted? Geez, lookit this--they only have 2 in-flight movies; what a gyp--on the way over there were 3 . . " and from there began a journey into what must be complacency.

Okay, so my thunder won't be stolen that easily. But how long has it been, 3 weeks? and already I think about all the constant attention I used to get, the incessant power outages, the mosquitoes . . and I go, "HOW can people LIVE like that?"

So maybe community is more important than I've been giving it credit for. In Peace Corps they call it "community integration." But I've realized that some of my more inward-focused tendencies have increased the crap that has gone with the evacuation and its aftermath. I wish I'd spent more time sitting with people--even when not saying anything or doing anything important. Peace Corps people. Bangladeshi people. Anyone.

***

Isn't it great to talk to strangers in the grocery store? I wish there was a way we could all talk to each other without needing an expensive can of creamed corn or a last carton of 2% to start a conversation. In other words, I'd like to buy the world a Coke.