Last day...Oh LORDY.

Bear with my feeble attempt to chear myself up...

10 Reasons why Leaving Russia Doesn't Bite, in no particular order

1. Pedestrian Right of Way. Its a red light, mother fucker. That means stop jack ass.
2. Cabbage. This is a garnish, not a vegetable. I don't care how many vitamins it supposedly has.
3. Beets. See point 2.
4. Morning rush hour on transit. No, I am not retarded. Yes, I will take my damn time counting out my money, and No my ass is not public domain, thank you.
5. Water pressure. And temperature. Both of which should not be controlled by the meanderings of a 2 inch high propane flame.
6. Mayonaisse. Not a spice. Not a sauce. And definitly not a substitute for corn starch. At most should be spread on bread. Not used in quantities large enough to feed the entire population of Armenia
7. Excercise. Not equalling running from stray dogs, speeding cars, skinheads, drunks, drugaddicts, or any other such shady characters.
8. Girly booze. As much as russian moonshine and I get along, christ there is something to be said about the mindless bliss of some colorful tequilla concoction. Particularly if there is some happy umbrella floating on top.
9. Street cleanup. So I'm sure my quads thank you, but really. Sidewalks are for walking, not some unexpected ballet or neardeath experiences with cement. Its called salt, not a particular commodity in this century.
10. Crack bliney. The cheesy chocolatey goodness has got to be stopped. 'Cause thats just not healthy. Chemical dependence= BAD

Out of time for the good list...and not really appealling anyway. Leaving Russia tommorow morning. YEs. YEs I am.

Well that just about sums it up...

" Hey Peggy! You should go hit on that guy over there. His name is Alexander. He works here. Hey! Maybe he can hook us up with some free crack bliney!!!"

Said to me Sunday at visit number 2098934 to Teremok, the despenser of Bliney goodness. Yes. I have a bliney habit.

In other news, ONE MORE EXAM and like 4 MORE DAYS. And I shall be back in civilization and showers and vegetables and oh lord.

Breath. Take 393781. Roll Camera.

Ok. Yes. I am breathing. Trying. Last choir concert last night, had loads of fun, of course started talking to people that I've seen, like, daily, had all these crazy intense conversations, and was in such a great mood walking home that night. Then everything hit me, and I'm like, oh yea.

10 days.

Fuck me.

But for the most part the funk has lifted, thanks to lots of wine and actually being with russians. Thankfully, for now anyway. Sorry to any and all who have had the infinite pleasure of having to deal with me in the last few weeks. I'm fine, don't worry, and ignore most of all that was "said" to you. Project of the moment is trying to figure out how to keep my spirits up next semester, to avoid the funk, and not end up like last spring did. Problem is, I forget how I get that bad, it just kind of happens...and then there is nothing to do to get myself out of the pit. I think I very well might get cozy with the councelling center when I get back to Pland, and even typing that kind of frightens me. But I frighten myself when I'm like that, last week scared me, that desperation reaaaally scares me.

How can I be so happy here and abhor it? All at the same friggin' time??

But yea. Breathing. I should make myself a good list, but problem is, everything that would be on it would be simaltaneously fantastic and sad. And no one would get anything on it, but me. High up there though, very definitly getting back into AKIN for next semester...(Who can tell me anything about this Caitlin chick?? Who am I booting? Upper or lower Akin? Amy I love you!!)

Slightly more solid plans for the next 2 months ish:

This weekend- Helsinki
Next week- finals
Dec 18-25- Czech with the 'rents (Sarah: trying to see Prague, Krumlov, Terezin, and Kostelec in like 6 days. Nuts? I think so)
Dec 25-Jan 4- Israel with the remote relatives, both the israeli and the french flavored
Jan 4-10- Ukraine with Masha's people/bumming around Europe (London?)
Jan 10-14- Home sweet home (Lets see how crazy I can go in under 4 days?)
Jan 14th- PLAND, perhaps at Ri's.

Stay tuned. Anyone who wants anything from Russia had best let me know soon, and please keep in mind, I'm a COLLEGE STUDENT. WHO TECHNICALLY CAN"T BRING BOOZE ACROSS NATIONAL BORDERS.

Love.

I'm afraid of my mind. If I can't handle myself here, what the hell is going to happen when I'm back in the states and have to deal with being in the same place...

Someone please, turn me off.

Don't Even Bother

I'm at the point in the semester, in the week, in the day, just in general, where I can no longer avoid the conclusion that I'm just a heinous bitch and, well, tired. After three weeks of "PMS" one must come to the obvious conclusion that, well, life is just like that, its not just hormones.

God damn it all.

These last three weeks are dragging and flying and I'm just tired of the whole friggin' yo-yo affect. As soon as I convince myself that I'll just be happy to be away from here, something nice happens, and then I'm thrown off in the other direction. Literally, like, many times within the hour. I can't even keep track or control. Past time of choice is just wandering the city, letting my mind and my feet wonder, and this is both fantastic and abhorent, because, well, both my mind and my feet wander. Time to myself, yea...I can't take it. And time with people just makes me sad, because then undoubtedly, I have to realize that I'm leaving, and these people have come to mean a lot to me. And I don't have that wonderful naive gift that everyone else here does, I have no preconceptions that I will stay in touch with these people, or that the relationships will still be the same when I come back to this city years down the line. I did that already, and damn it all...it doesn't work. This is really the end of it all, and the only thing that makes that even worse, is seeing list of kids who are staying on for next semester. Without a doubt, they are all the most heinously awful loud disrespectful of all of us.

And they can stay and I can't, and its not fair damn it all.

I need a hug.

3 AM Border Guards, The Latvian Premier of Harry Potter, Nuttella, and me. Or otherwise titled, how I got my sanity back

Turns out, there was a plan D after all. It entailed catching a bus thursday afternoon to...drum roll please...Latvia.

Turns out, Russian bus experiences are slightly less cumbersome and deathly then Russian train experiences. Slightly. But there is definitly nothing else to get your adreniline pumping quite like hitting a major security national border at 3 AM in the snow, after sitting on a bus for 5 some hours cat napping (i use the term loosly), and having to fite to the death with the oh so pleased with themselves Russian border patrol for the priveledge of keeping one's registration documents. I fear only those of you living in semi-government controlled nations presently will understand the terror of documents. Basically, this happy little slip of paper says I am legally a resident of St. Petersburg, Russia. Visa counts for nothing with out it. I have already lost this battle once, when I unknowingly gave up my migration card in Moscow coming back from Prague last month, and only by some quirk of fate did I manage to get reregistered and get my passport back in time to leave the country to go home. And yea, what do I do, I flee the country again but fuck it, why the hell not. No idea what I said to these women, I know it involved some rugatelstvo, and appealing to their rational sides, but yea. Definitly did not calm down after that one till just about the time we hit Riga this morning.

Riga...well, is nice I'm sure. But really, its a break from Russia. Rachel and I did actually wander around old town this morning, and then hit the national premiere of Harry Potter, (coincidence, I promise.) and gorged at a western grocery store on vegetables and other such happiness as Nutella and Peanut butter, took real showers, and well, yea...otdijaem.

Might even head back to Petersburg tommorow night. If you're good...

hehehe wow. no more coffee for me

Debate of the day. We suddenly have Friday off, in other words its the drunken gift of Thanksgiving. So with my long weekend and my just now recieved passport do i :

A: Catch the bus to Helsinki and get the royal treatment there with some remote work colleague of my dad's

B: Sit on a train for a grand total of about 40 hours with the crew to Murmansk, well, just to say that we were in Murmansk

C: Go and finally meet the old Commie friends of my dead grandparents in Moscow.

D: well, ok so there is no D.

OR be me, and realize that the Helsinki connection is out of town, and you dont have any contact information for the Moscow people. And be lazy...oh the debate.

Im a clutz, but atleast I'm attractive to drug addicts (ask me later)

Again, I sit down to write, and realize everything that I've prepared and brought from home is in like three languages and its really not worth the effort to try to translate and transcribe what will really only make sense in my own head. And even then, well, yea.

Spent the weekend romping around town, taking pictures in the snow. Sunday I went out to the end of the metro, caught an elecktrichka illegally (yea...i know...just be damn thankful the komptroller didnt come through, because can you even picture me trying to bribe someone??!!??) and ended up out in the suburb of Pushkin where my friend Masha lives with her babuska. We wandered around all day in the palace parks and forest, highlights of which were very definitly walking through town loudly teaching each other swear words (the expressions on the babuskis' faces were more than priceless...), stealing some sleds in the childrens park and sledding (what...the magnet in my nose leads me for the drifts...honest) teaching her the concept of Snow Angels and getting harrassed by a bunch of old women for exposing our reproductive organs to the cold. There is this big mound/hill type thing in the park with this beautiful chinese gazebo on top, which either according to tradition, or this girl just has a wicked sick sense of humor, everyone is supposed to climb. Now this is me, clumsy at best, trying to haul my weak ass up this hill in about a foot of snow with sheet ice on top. I got up about half way, slid all the way back down, half way, down, repeatedly, till eventually I hauled myself hand over hand with the pine trees to the top. I found snow in my bag when I got home a good 7 hours later...After the park jaunts, we went back to their appartment to do the whole official visit thing. I got accosted for not speaking german again (I feel like every time I'm with russians, the conversation usually comes around to your family background, and everyone that I tell that I'm a good 90% german and don't speak a single word is just appalled. Like, "how are you not ashamed of yourself that you don't speak your native tounge?!?" I am, people, I am. I'm working on it...might even be my next language) by her grandmother, which I find hillarious. After dinner we just chilled in her room with the guitar swapping folk songs. By which, I mean, I sat in awe as she played the guitar and sang for me, and wished passionately that I had any guitar knowledge...I left to head back to town and they gifted me this beautiful anthology of Russian poetry of the 19th century, with an inscription "Dear Rita: for you to remember your day in Pushkin, and as inspiration to stop reading crappy american novels in the beautiful russian language..."

Ok so no one but me respects the greatness that is the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants, or as it is so perfectly put in Russian: The Union of the Bewitched Trousers :-D :-D :-D

Scheduling Update of the hell that is awaiting me next semester: Heres the most recent translation:

MW: 8-9 Swimming

9:10-10:10 Intro to Sociology

10:20-11:20 Either music theory or Aural Skills, cant remember which is which

11:30-12:30 Spanish 301

TTH: 9:40-11:10 Russian 480 Advanced Special Topics= Lets read Russian classical literature and watch Peggy die several small deaths

1:50-2:50 Theory or Aural Skills...

then sweet rest on Fridays, with no swimming and no Theory.

Oh god. I have officially lost it. But I'll be back in Pland by Jan 14, by way of the Czech Republic, Isreal, and Ukraine, and maybe perhaps Maryland. That is, if I live through two weeks of my parents...

Three Minutes

Crazy schedules crazy travelling crazy snow WTF am I DOING.

Do I take the easy way out and make everything all cushy and nice and boring...or do I go with the gut instinct and suffer the consequences?

Who really needs sleep anyway?? And for that matter, maybe I should just stop fooling with myself and acknowledge the fact that if I reeeeeeeeally want to graduate with a double major in something and a music minor AND travel abroad for another semester, theres no friggin' way I will graduate on time. No way.

But fuck the internet for making me get up this morning at 6 to register. And fuck the registrar for actually coming through for me, for once, making this whole happy morning completely WORTHLESS.

Gah.

To Jason

You have meant far too much to me over the years to just cast you out of my life. There is nothing you could do or say to me that would make me end our friendship. Nothing. I've loved you as long as I can remember, and that means so much more to me than the relationship that we once had. I wish for you bravery, and trust in people, and the strength of conciousness that will let you find contentment in yourself finally, to see the person we've all seen all these years.

What the hell happened to you?!?

I was gonna transcribe some handwritten ruminations about this whole trip thing from the reallive actual journal, written on a plane or a train in some country or another recently, but then I looked at it and realized of the three or some pages it was all Russian and Czech, not even full sentences of either just all tremendously mixed up...and it would be more work to try to translate myself than its worth. So yes, for everyone who keeps asking...Prague was great, thanks. IF you want the long version, you can find me in Portland in less than 2 months. And by long version I mean uncensored irrelevant irrational caffinated one...

Funny story about getting back to town yesterday morning (today? I dont know what country I'm in...what language I'm speaking...just fuck me now man...) and trying to speak Russian to my poor host mother...We're all sitting around eating breakfast and she kind of starts giggling and says to me:

" What the hell happened to you? You used to speak so good and then you went to those Czech crazy people and now you speak like a three year old."

Maybe it was the beer. Or at least thats what I told her. I do feel like an idiot though, because now I'm afraid to open my mouth 'cause everything comes out in the wrong damn language.

And happiness, me being the naive forthright person that I am, I gave the correct migration card to the scary mafia looking man at customs, the one with all my registration on it saying that I'm legal in St. Petersburg, cause he scared the crap out of me. 'Lo and behold I discover today that you could have just given them the pretend one from when we were in Estonia last month, and kept the real one, thus circumnavigating the whole registration process. So tommorow I get to give up my passport and visa AGAIn (passport with real stamps on it now...my pride and joy), pay 60 freakin' bucks to get re-registered here in Petersburg, and PRAY that they return it intime for me to LEAVE THE FRIGGIN' COUNTRY. Fucking bureocracy, cracks me up actually. For now. Basically that just means that I can't end up going back to Moscow to visit the ancient commie friends of my dead grandparents, or go to Helsinki for the weekend, both trips I doubted were actually going to happen anyway, so no big loss. Meh.

Gotta love my parents actually attempting to come visit me...I am...shock and awe. Their itinerary of the day as follows:

Moms coming to meet me in Petersburg for three days, since I have to be out of the country 'cause of the visa...then we are flying together to Prague, spending a week or so there so she can see the place, taking a train to Berlin where my father is meeting us. Seeing Berlin, my other grandparents graves and such family nonsense, then my mom is flying home cause she has to be in school on the 2nd of January or such nonsense, and my dad and I are flying to friggin' ISREAL. Like, the COUNTRY. To spend a week or two with the semi relatives there, both the Isreali set and the French set (BTW: WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING IN FRANCE? I HAVE NO COMPREHENSIBLE NEWS ACCESS SOMEONE PLEASE FILL ME IN) I think they are second or third cousins and aunts but honestly I've never really understood it. I'm like, alright whatever yes I will allow you to pay for my travel...no argument here. But wow...craziness.

In other news, my dad is applying for some bigwig job in DC with AARP. Yea, I know right...I just smile and nod. And the Moldavian boyfriend of my hostsis has been officially dismissed. Made me bizarilly happy this morning when the four of us are just sitting around eating breakfast, and Lena is like "Ach how pleasant with no men..." Cracked me up. Poor guy though, he definitly got the rough end of the deal.

So much culture shock, in so many directions. And now suddenly I realize I have five weeks left in this country and I finally have to start doing all the shit I've been putting off until the weather gets bad (Its 50 ish and raining today. What the hell is happening to the world) like go to the Hermitage. Scary.

Ach, jo. Koncim.

JEZISE MARIA BOZE MOJE

Lets all watch while Peggy's brain explodes.

Je to takova strana tady najit sebe, ne umim to vysvetlit. Fakt, neumim. Vsecko je presne jak jsem si to pomatovala, i taky vsecko je jinak. Muze byt, ze prosto ja jsem jina. Nevim. Jsem upylna rada, ze mohla jsem se zase prijet, urcite jsem. Jen ze, tedka se uvedomim, ze nemuzu se vratit do toho stareho zivotu. Jsem se snazila delat to, i uz dlouho to nefunguje. Ted'ka vim, ze musim byt pryc, musim delat neco noveho, neco tezkeho, aby chtela stat spokojenou. Sakra, vid'? Protoze ted' mam vsecko teskej, nez to drive bylo. Alespon vim, proc tady jsem, proc sem se vratila. Ja uz vim co musim delat, jak dal.

This sucks, sarah. I should have believed you the first time around.

Prague is...Prague.

Deja Vu-ish

Just dropping a line to say that yes, Moscow did not in fact eat me. Red square is, well, bizzare and absurd, but insanely cool. We had half a foot of snow last week before I left. It was scary.

And now I'm back in the "motherland", and its weird as hell as in disorienting, but hella cool. I'm getting a big kick out of confusing the crap out of these people when I'm having a fairly fluent conversation with someone, and then drop two or three russian words, usually the good ones, like "yes" "thank you" "here" "please understand me". Yea makes things interesting.

Its just incredibly weird to be walking in ones own footsteps, when so much has changed, yet so much is exactly disturbingly the same.

Longer later.

In which I meet cobblestones head on...or alternately...Winter VACATION!!!

Two months in country and maybe perhaps finally feel like yea, hello Russia. It started snowing this morning, yes, take note of the date, it is officially October 26. Temperature is resting around -2-3 degrees celcius, which I believe is like, maybe 28ish fareinheit? I've lost count.

God damn it, must actually bring the journal to transcribe because otherwise I end up staring at the screen and realizing how completely friggin incoherent I actually am.

VACATION TOMMOROW. Night train after the university choir concert tommorow night to Moscow, like one day actually in Moscow, then flying out to Prague and the village...I haven't even let myself think about being back there, my brain has drawn a happy curtain infront of everything that happens after I get off the train in Kostelec, walk up to the center of the town, and ring the bell. Thats all I got, after that I have no fucking clue what will happen, how I will spend five days with these people...No clue. But lord, please dont let me have to speak to them in Russian...I've been so possessed by that lately that I'm walking down the street talking to myself in Czech just for shits and giggles, to see if I can. Yea, loud enough for people to cross the street to avoid having to walk past crazy me. It was fantastic. And then of course I let things come out in Czech in class just cause I've been thinking about it so much, and they look at me like the retard that I am. I'm gonna come back here in two weeks and be...so out of whack. Oh well, new and different...

Speaking of choir concert and new and different, WHERE THE HELL CAN I GET WHITE SHOES BY TOMMOROW. WHO THE HELL REQUIRES WHITE CONCERT DRESS. This is ridicious. I recieved my fabulously heinous white potato sack dress last week, which definitly does not fit, and I'm sure there will be some pics of it at some point. I admit it though, I am getting pysched for this gig finally. Last night at rehearsal they brought in a crap load of ringers, and suddenly, holy shit we were actually good. I love sitting in the middle of it, pretending like I have half a clue what I'm doing, just soaking it in. And then I catch the evil eye from the director and well yea, thats the end of that...

Two months, it feels really weird. I wish I had the luxury of more time here, just because I know that a semester is far from adequate to really lose myself in this life...I think about two months into AFS, I couldn't even leave the house by myself, much less spit out a remotely coherent sentence in the local language. Four months in, I was just barely taking trains by myself, and still missing most of the words people were throwing at me. A semester, its nothing really. So every adventure, every mishap, is both a joy and a sorrow. Happy because I was, sad because soon I wont be.

Lord what a fucked up way to look at things. I'm going to go play in the snow and hope that our power comes on soon so I can have some clean cloths out of the wash with half a prayer of being remotely dry before tommorow night...

Twenty Minutes...Take Two

...Please excuse the untimely interupption of my internet service and attention span...Where was I?

After my night with Noah I was so out of it, so confused, and my one encounter with the councilling center put me back on track. I've never told anyone about it, that I was there, except Jess and Amy, and Riana who dragged me there cause I was such a mess. Sometimes I think nothing really has changed minus the setting, and for the moment this whole abroad thing allows me a fleeting confidence that will dissapate back in real life. But which life is real, which life is a quickly fading illusion?

Gospodi boze mou, this is what I get for wiling away this rainy day writting in my PJ's. And now its almost 7, what good would it to to get washed and dressed?

I had this amazing cultural revelation between nap number three and found this afternoon. The weather is finally changing, and its about 7 degrees Celsius on the street today, so I was cold. My first reaction was to get up and put on a sweater. Then it occurred to me what a strange resolution that is. Americans would just turn up the heat. Russians would rail at the inadequacies of their world for a while, then throw another blanket on the bed. But me, putting on a sweater, so individual, so non-provacative, so...conflict avoidant. Made me think though...

I think the biggest thing I'm realizing about Russian society here is the overwhelming lack of ideology, and the yearning for one. I expected the same old cries from the old guard for societ security, for a return to back in the day when salaries were paid and health care was free, and no one got evicted for not paying rent. I didn't expect the ideological vacuum to be so palitable. People really consider Russia under Yeltsin to have been anarchy, as the aftershock of the fall, the polar opposite of what they had fled. And now, there is whiplash almost, among the young people, who are trying to orient themselves to something not communist. With no enforced set of beliefs and mornals, having to make that choice of what and how to believe in for themselves for the very first time, they fall to drugs and alcohol and street life, or at the very least a mumbling hopelessness, 'cause it fills the time and space. There is nothing to believe in, nothing to hold on to, limited hopes for the future, and its felt in every minute of every day. I think thats the key to Putin, hes solid, he reminds people of their past, of their future, and most importantly does not leave any room for doubt. Its all about the strong arm of the law, people look at the vacuum of money and power and morals after the fall of the USSR, and they recognize thats not the way. They'd prefer the government to make the choices than to have to make them themselves, or no choices at all.

Then I start thinking about ideology in America, and I get nowhere, interestingly enough. American children are raised in as much of a vacuum void of all but commercialism, and we have our own problems, but on much less of a scale. The difference? We are raised with every expectation that we will succeed, that we will grow up and have a productive life of our own. More than that, from birth we are filtered to series of activities that further indoctrinate us that we are better. Scouts, sports, music lessons, the works. They used to have Pioneers here, or just the idea that they were building communism for a better world. Nothing but money and power and escapism has come to take its place in Russian society.

I want to be back at school to get on with my life. Sometimes I feel like this is limbo here, and sometimes I get a kick out of that neitherworldly quality. SOmetimes it makes me impatient as all hell.

20 Minutes...take one

I'm at that point where maybe perhaps time starts moving fast enough for me to loose track of things, for the most part. Unil I slow down long enough, and fate swings back away fromme, and I'm counting down the days impatiently, instead of tearfully. Thinking about classes got me thinking about next semester, and thats never a happy train of thought. Its that constant theme of always yearning for what comes next, never being fully able to handle here and now. Thinking about school only further confuses and frightens me, yet another jump into the semi-unknown. When I left school last spring I was pretty dead set on giving up Span and giving into my music major cravings. After Monterey and being here, I'm back on travel, back on Spanish, and maybe perhaps Anthropology. I had this brilliant idea a few months back about going and studying Eastern European cultural communities in South America. IT just sort of came to me in the middle of a lecture this summer, and such a perfect answer to everything that I can't get ito ut of my mind. After hitting a few walls with just basic introductory research, I figure maybe the best way to start is to learn how to learn, thus SoAn next semester. I'm not assuming that I'll actually enjoy it, I mean, look what happened with me and politics last semester. But even the small nothion of it is enough to throw off all my plans for education for the duration. If next semester goes remotely well, Anthro or Sociology is remotely intriguing, Spanish doesn't as expected kick my ass, I'm back on more study abroad, and perhaps SoAN as my second major?!?! Its a huge jumpt even on paper, considering I don't even knowthe meaning of the word. But I guess thats classic me- find the answer, find the ends, and then go about finding the means to get there.

And then the more I think about it the worse tangled my brain becomes. If this works it'd probably mean an extra semester or year, and theres definitly no money or financial aid for that. Unless I give up music all together, not even a minor, which I really can't physically do withmy scholarship. Or find a study abroad which fufills some requirements, as opposed to here, which is almost all fluff and fun. And the more tangled my brain gets, the more annoyed I get because I don't have a course book or the list of classes offered in the coming semesters, so basically the whole argument is mute for a good long while. And thats not even saying anything about living arangements, which I dont even want to think about...Oh fuck, if money for the last year comes up I should just apply to be an RA and use the difference for tuition...horror of horrors. That would meen not having to move off campus to save the money for room and board...

This conversation is officially absurd. But I might just walk down to internet and explore some options...

So back to real life, hah...

This week I did finally give in and buy pants, and it was every bit as torturous as I was expecting. In fact, it was worse than I was expecting. Brook and I walked down and back on all of Bolshoi Prospekt, and in every store we went into were uncharactheristically mobbed by store help. Uncharacteristic because this is Russia, and the city hasnt finally magically transformed into a service economy since last week. And becasue their "help" was anything but. In one store I actually pretended to have a phone call so we could leave. The girl just kept bringing me pairs in sizes not even close to what I asked for, it was absurd. And of course the only pair of jeans remotely close to fitting cost more than $100 US. But then in the next store I let myself be seduced by a beautiful Turkmeni, and somehow ended up with a $70 pair of Levi's, which will most definitly get taken back as soon as possible. But I gotta do something about the excercise thing, because I'm really starting to feel it. I'm trying not to pay attention to it, and control the meals when I c an, but I dont put very much faith in small steps. At least this time around I know that it will all come off within a few months of returning home. But how I'm yearning for a good run right now, so much...

I had a rattling email from a good friend last week, I'm really still digesting it. Somthing happened, not really sure what, but very thankful that shes now getting the help she needs and feeling better. NOt totally surprised, but I guess that energy and excitement was one of the things that I always enjoyed about her. I'm glad things are improving, but also the tiniest bit scared that I'm loosing the girl that I love so dearly. Weird? I know, I cant know what its like so don't make judgments. And then theres the small part of me who is thinking, "well shit, what does this say about me?!" We were always so alike, mindset, attitude, life style...maybe I should/could end up the same way...And then I think about how close I came, the end of last semester, how close I might still be...Sometimes I think all I need to really loose control is an excuse, for someone to tell me its OK to just let go. After my night with Noah I was so out of it, so confused, and my one meeting...

So I'm lazy. Fuck me. or alternately Updates from the Front

Will post seven page musings of the past few weeks later, for now this shall have to do...

Btw...Anyone else really friggin scared of registration? I just emailed my classes and I feel like I signed my life away!!! God damnit, aren't we supposed to be over this by now?

Date: Mon, 17 Oct 2005 03:35:46 -0700 (PDT)
From: "Margaret Fulda" Add to Address Book Add Mobile Alert
Subject: Updates from the Front
To: rfradkin@umd.edu


Realizing I havent dropped you a line in about a month, and figured it was about time I let ya know whats going on...

The weather finally changed this weekend, and only now am I getting a real taste of Russia in the fall. Its funny, since things have gotten cold and dark and wet I find myself in a much better mood, I cant really explain it. I was walking along the Mojka embankment yesterday, and it was drizzling and cold, and generally unplesant, but I found myself in such a good mood. Its as if I can handle cold and dark, its really the sunshine that confused. Strange, one should not be contented by such an unforgiving climate...but since when do I fit such expectations...

I've come to the grudging conclusion that my program just needs to be endured, classes pass the time, and even occasionally enlighten. I know that I'm learning tons, and now that things are finally picking up outside of school, I can much better tolerate the bureacracy and just general annoyance that is CIEE. Choir is giving our first concert next week, and I dont know which I'm more excited by, the concert or the legitimate excuse to go to Moscow a day later then the group, so as not to end up couped up while 45 americans get roaring drunk and rowdy. You were right though, music is definitly the coolest thing that I'm doing here, theres some truth to the whole universality that is music and art, I think I'm only just realizing. Its doing wonders for my phonetics and my social life, I'll tell you that.

The funny thing, which in retrospect I guess you also warned me about, the longer I'm here and the better I get, the more my Czech really is beginning to screw with my mind. I think its just because when I know that I'll be understood regardless, or I'm tired, or annoyed, or when my brain skips a few steps I get lazy and Czech comes out first. And there are still a few expressions that just feel better to me in Czech than in Russian. My hozjaka has started calling me her ykrainka, because every time I say something in Czech she thinks its ukrainian. Not nearly as many as there used to be, but still, quite a few. I'm going back for a visit during our kanikyli next week, did I mention that yet? THe best thing was, I attempted to email my host family to find out if I could stay with them for a few days, and did my damndest to write in Czech, and I get a note back from the daughter saying "Hi Peggy...be glad that both my parents had 20 years of required Russian, because otherwise we would not have a clue what you were trying to tell us..." Oh well...the thought that counts? Now its just interesting to try to find something I can bring from here as a host gift that does not have any particular russian connotations, kind of an excercise in cross cultural analysis if I've ever encountered one.

Yes, there are children in the flat, two daughters and a boyfriend. And for the moment three cats and two kittens. They're all actually really good about talking to me, my host mother and I end up having pretty regular heart to hearts, which I appreaciate, though sometiems I think she assumes I understand better than I actually do. On the off chance that I do stop her and ask for clarification she thinks its absurd that I dont know something, and then I explain to her that yes I have in fact only been here for less than 2 months, and have only been learning russian for 2 years. Two weeks ago it was one of the daughters birthday, one of my first tastes of celebration. I lost count after toast number 4 or 5, but I figure thats the point, right? Seeing the whole family and just being in the middle of the attmosphere was one of the coolest things so far, and sitting and talking to the aunts and uncles and grandparents. I have come to the conclusion though that my host family definitly speaks, shall we say, a more colloquial language than is generally accepted. I got into an argument with my grammar teacher today about when and how you can use "chevo". My family uses it almost exclusively instead of "chto" and my teacher thinks that this is demeaning and only low class and uneducated, and why would I ever want to know how to speak in such a manner. I calmly tried to explain that its neccesary to know the usage so you can understand people on the street and real russians outside of academia...this very much did not go over so well. She said that Russians have a different relationship to language than americans do, which I"m sure is true, and that speaking in such a manner will have people think that you are rude and unmannered, and they might even be offended. THat I find hard to believe, and very much wanted to tell her that she probably thinks that because shes an academic living a high class life with an appartment off Nevsky...but I refrained.

Now the interesting experiences start right? Now that I can get past the definition and into the meaning.

Thoughts?
N

I so win. (But warning...translating russian = not winningness)

What an amazing day this turned out to be!!! I'm so thankful that I finally spent an amazing day, it was so more than neccesary for me and my mood...Endorphins are my friend...but first homework to be finished, and then more to update...But I'm so glad that we decided to loose our symphony tickets and go on the outting, it was so more than worth it...

I so dont want to do homework right now...Oy. But two hours, with a break for tea and cake. Its only rarely that I ever have legitamate work to do, and everytime it does happen and I start hearing myself bitch about it, I just remind myself that in four months I'll be back in real life, and this is nothing. It's sad that my semester abroad is probably going to end up being the easiest, academics wise, of my college career.

So this morning I met Fred at my metro stop, we headed down to the trains, and then the fun began. We were supposed to head from Gorkovskaya, my stop, to Teknologicheskoy Institute, then switch to the red line, and then just one stop to Pushkinskaja where the train station was. Then, for some unknown reason, the metro we were on magically eneded up on the orange line, completely skipping Gostiny Dvor, the transfer point downtown of all the lines. They probably said something about when and why, but I eather didnt hear or didnt understand or both. But at any rate, we arrived at Sadovaya, the first stop on the orange, and had no friggin' clue how it was that we got there. Only about 20 minutes later of arguing with a map did we figure out where we were and how to get the the train station, not bad in Peggy land. After that no more huge issues finding the train station, not even finding the part where local trains leave from. Only that we didnt know how to buy tickets to Pavlovsk, but it was still a good half hour early from the time we were all supposed to be meeting, so we just stood and waited, hoping to look conspicious enough to catch someones eye from the group. Thankfully some girl recognized us, and starts waving frantically for us to come and join her in line. With out here, yea, we'd have stood around for a while more, and than probably given up and gone home. Later she told us that most of the choir kids were just going to leave from Kuchin, a stop at the end of the blue metro, because there you dont have to have proof of ticket, you can just hop the train and hope the controller doesn't come through. Even if he does, you can just slip him 10 rubles (like...30 cents...) and not a problem. Her name is Yulia, I think she sings soprano two, so I hadn't met her yet in rehearsals. In the train we found another guy from the choir, Artur, John, and later on Masha in Pushkin where she lives. We had one of those random ass train conversations, but it lasted all the way to Pavlovsk, so I was happy. The whole crew met us on the platform at Pavlovsk, and we set out for the park. It was a beautiful day, gorgeous fall folliage, warm-ish...Once we got to the gates of the park the fun began. Everyone decided that paying the entrance fee wasn't really worth it, so we started off around the fence line looking for another way into the grounds. Keep in mind this fences is maybe 6 feet tall, rusty, and pointy looking. People started scalling it, but I decided I didn't think I'd make it up and over with no footholds or nothing. We walked for a hile, trying old locks to see if one would crack for us, but no luck. Eventually the group had dwindled to just me, Fred, John, Ania the head alto one, Yulia from the train, and some soprano girl I don't know. After walking for 20 minutes or so we got caught by some babushki gate guards at a second entrance, and it was obvious we were trying to break in that we had to give up and pay them, but atleast finally actually made it onto the grounds of the park. Then we wandered for a while trying to find the rest of the group, who had scattered in all directions trying to make it over the fence without paying. THey had all set up this huge picnic by the time we got there, I mean huge, like 40 people were sitting around all the food spread out on newspaper. As we sat and ate they started singing folk songs, which somehow everyone magically knew but the Americans of course, so I sat in awe and listened. The spontaneity of it was just awesome, one person would start a song and everyone would instantly join in. Or some songs Edvard the director would lead, or Vitja the pianist, but mostly it was just people throwing a song out there for the world. After we ate, it was proclaimed sports time. It felt so good to run around and get disgustingly sweaty, so much more than I was expecting or remembering. Soccer was eh, but running around acting stupid was a decend compromise. Somehow any game that pits girls vs. boys usually ends up like that? Then in good russian spirit we ate again, sang some more, and gradually people started to leave. In the end we stood in a big circle, the last 20 or so of us, and sang like ever folk song or piece that they'd performed in the past five years. We drew a crowd, it was fantastic. Everytime we tried to stop and leave, they'd shout "Brava Brava! More more!" Granted I use the word we loosly, since I didn't know any of the songs, but some I pretended, some I picked up relatively quickly, some I sang without words. It was nice just to be in the middle, even if I really had no idea what was going on for most of the day. What a cool tradition though, every year on the first Sunday in October they meet in the same place of the same park. SO all the former or inactive members of the choir know about it, and alot of them came. It was so friendly...just plain...merriment.

The weirdest thing was the trip there and back though, so much deja vus. The train was exactly like the trains out to bumfuck, exactly my trains from Kostelec, and the landscape, all the nature and the villages, everything might as well have been exactly the same. Even the people in the train, just so very familiar. I think this trip back to Czech Republic in November is going to be more difficult than I'm expecting, and I think I'm only just realizing in which dimensions. Particularly if Bruno does actually end up coming with me, it'll just all the more expose everything that I've lost. I sat with my russian-czech dictionary the other night, just reading words, looking up things I'd like to be able to say, but just keep coming out in Russian instead of czech. Sometimes I feel like going back there speaking Russian is an even greater insult than just plain forgetting all my Czech...So much right now I'm praying is purely and simply the influence of here and now...so much.

I want to Break Free

I think I had the first break through day today, the first one where I found myself walking down the street and could actually look around me and completely without novelty or irony appreciate where I am and what I'm doing. I was walking down Nevsky this afternoon after wandering around town on like take 189373 of the great shoe quest, headed towards the metro and home. I crossed the bridge over the Fontanka with the four horsemen, passed the sushi bar on the corner, an italian restaurant, a book store, a church, and within the six or seven blocks to the metro heard almost eight foreign languages I couldn't make even begin to make out, and it made me so happy, just that moment. For the first time since I've been here, things lined up right, and I understood, even just for a moment. A taste of...regularity, even perhaps...contentment maybe. Fleeting, but in that moment all I could think of was now, right now. No distractions, no regrets, no nostalgia, just presence purely, missing nothing and no one. The feeling passed, of course, unfortunately, but the taste of it was enough to keep me going.

Why I'm sitting up past midnight watching "Rosemarie's Baby" I do not know. We're going early tommorow to Pavlovsk with the choir, though I'm not exactly sure why. Some tradition that got lost in the translation. But I'm pysched regardless, all I heard was train, soccer, and campfire, and that was more than enough convincing. I'm just trying to convince myself that fighting for the conversation is worth the effort, though I'm more than sure that it is. Theres just always a small part of me that refuses to live in the world, that wishes hiding locked in my room was all that was asked of me. But its not, it can't be, I wouldn't want that. So once more I rattle on...

Taken from the journal, the paper variety, just cause it needs to be said

Perhaps I'm being a bit overdramatic. Perhaps this is just a lesson of intent, a reminder that giving a damn what people think never gets you anywhere. But damn it all, I refuse to to let this semester become another experiement in futile solitude and antisocialism. I want to leave here in four-ish months having made connections with people here that I care enough about to still remember three years down the line. Or really, to have people still remember my name in that many years.

Ah, sweet Nirvana. Somehow I think whatever comes on via shuffle songs on my way to school in the morning determines the way the day goes. And today is most definitly a Nirvana day, pounding loud enough that these cheap ass headphones buzz, and my hoodie blocking out the world. THat and my ripped geans from the weekend, ah so punkass counter suggestion. I refuse the Ani impulse, angry right now beats nostalgic murmering.

You know, I was starting to get philosophically worried the other day, after reflecting on the general mood of the last month here. My bad mood led me to start thinking what the hell is going to happen to me if I'm unhappy here, and yet, this here, this right now is all I've craved for the past three years. Since I came back to the States all I've wanted was to reclaim that carefree adventurous spirit that I felt I'd lost, to again be in a situation like that where everything was ridiculously difficult but the triumph was all the more worth it. THe thing is, looking back on AFS, its such a happy idealization, generalization. Yea, I say I loved it, I say it changed my life, it changed my world view, all of which is true. But that says nothing about how upset I was alot of the time, how lonely, how frusterated. I remember, right after we got back, how conflicted I'd get having to answer "So...how was it?", and how I eventually settled on a neutral "Great, thanks". Yeah, in general yes, but that says nothing about the every day battles. Today is a battle, tommorow will be also, and that struggle is a big part of what I feed off of. Its not that things have changed in me betwen then and now (well, not in that sense), its not that I've fucked up here, its not that I'm no longer fit or cut out fo rthis kind of thing anymore, its a big picture thing. This wasn't supposed to be easy, easy is sitting at home in Columbia with everything handed down on a silver platter. I'm here to be, to experience life the closest to the Russian way as physically possible. I'm here to speak Russian untill I'm understood. I'm here to have conversations with people, with natives, that enlighten and confuse (like Lena and the high cat...)me. None of that comes quickly, or easily, or consciously.

So ignore the world day turned out much different than I expected. After classes I walked towards the metro with Bruno, Rachel the grad student, Ben and Sara. I haven't laughed that hard all month, it felt so good. I don't even know what we were talking about, something absurd I'm sure which I probably instigated atleast part of the conversation. Bruno and I ended up sitting in a cafe for an hour or so, takling about...life. Then I walked home in the drizzle feeling infinitely better.

And Natan was an AFSer. Who knew?

Fall Out

Otherwise known as my new favorite russian song, by some pop wannabe britney character, none of which I understand except the chorus of:

"FUCK THEM ALL....FUCK THEM ALL....FUCK THEM ALL"

Fuck school. Fuck creepy Russians. Particularly the ones I apparently gave my phone number to that keep calling me. Fuck homework. Fuck rain. Fuck Pavle for discussing me "anonymously" for an hour and a half of conversation class today, and needless to say now the whole class and my favorite prof just thinks I'm a big irresponsible child who cant drink. Fuck Natan, the CIEE coordinator, to whom I had the brilliant idea of confessing what happened today so that he could take me to a friggin' doctor and xray my hand which is now about twice the size and the color of scary thunderstorms, who now thinks I have a drinking problem. He basically told me "Well, what youre describing sounds basically like a hangover, so be more careful next time..." creepy wink wink leer. Why in fucks name would I make this up people?!??!! I'm not a fucking child who is too embarassed by her indescretions to admit what really happen. It wasn't the first time I've ever been drunk, I know the affect that alcohol has on me, and that most definitly was not it. This is not some big repressed dream, there are LITERALLY HOURS OF MY LIFE WHICH ARE UNACCOUNTED FOR. Fuck condescending people whom by some quirk of fate landed in authority positions. Fuck the rain and my non-waterproof umbrella. Fuck my hand for hurting 24/7. Fuck the stray dogs for chasing me through the park this morning. Fuck everyone in school for looking at me like some vanquished 7 year old. Fuck all of this for actually happening. Fuck the world for not understanding the words that are coming out of my mouth.

Damn it, I need someone who speaks Peggy cause this whole self-expression thing is just not working out for me.

Ok, Ok thinking positive. Um...tickets to Prague for November vacation are booked. And Bruno the Mexican is coming with me (Sarah...yea...how fucking great will it be to watch the fam react to the swarthy looking Mexican....ahahaha I can't wait...) Ok what else...Making friends at Choir I guess, just not the whole social activity kind...maybe it'll come...I've found my niche with CIEE people, so now its only kind of Peggy hiding in a corner being ice bitch from hell...Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Lesson with the invisible drummer was freakin' awesome, and he didn't even laugh at me for my travails of tracking him down.

I know, I know. This day is just turning into one of those that makes you wish it were two months from now, just so you could look back and remember with wonder feeling like shit, and then marvel at how you could have ever been so naive and uninformed.

God damn it woman, I miss you.

The one in which I get drugged in a bar...

No seriously. I wouldnt be writting this if I weren't really friggin' terrified right now, not that anything tremendously damaging happened to me, but that all of you are out there getting drunk of your ass and not paying attention to what happens around you. Its my retroactive shame impulse, but more than that I don't want this to ever happen to anyone out that that I care about. Please, you guys, be safe. Be careful. Just be there in four months in one piece when I get back, ok?!?

It went something like this. I was walking back from choir rehearsal Saturday night when Pavle, a friend from school, called me, and is like "Hey, I'm in your neighborhood, lets meet and go do something." So we met halfway between the university and my house where he was coming from, stopped and bought a beer from a tabac on the street, and sat and drank it out behind the Rostral Columns, basically, on wall overlooking the Neva River and all the most beautiful buildings in the city. Good conversation, which I think more than anything else I've missed this month here. The thing is, I shoulda gone home then. Instead, we decide to walk back over to this bar on the square by the hermitage, some fabulously sketchy dive bar ontop of a grocery store that he knew about. I remember getting a beer, having no free tables, and sitting down with some russians. And thats about it. Asides from what he told me later, I have no idea how I woke up in my bed the next morning. Not a single recollection. And yes, Ok everyone knows I'm a ridiculously easy drunk, but theres drunk, and theres blacked out for long periods of time. This is not me being ashamed of how drunk I got, I really honestly don't remember I thing. I know that Pavle saved my life, on several occasions that evening. I know I must have fallen repeatedly, because I have some scary looking bruises and possibly broke some bones in my hand. I know that I'm going to have to work on restoring what was a great relationship with my host mother for a while, since she was up till 3 worrying about me, and had the pleasure of opening the door to Pavle and a group of random people he stopped on the street to help get me home. Thats not something I would wish for anyone. I know that I was not in my right mind until about 5 pm yesterday. I'm sure that nothing horrible happened to me in the sense that no I wasn't raped and nothing was stollen from me, largely thanks to his presence the entire time, but the feeling of, emotional violation...is really frightening.

So please, you guys...be careful. This shit really does happen, not just to ditzy girls at college parties. I love you all and I miss all of you, and I just want to come home in one piece.

RACE AGAINST TIME

OMG STALKED THE STATE PHILHARMONIC AND POTENTIALLY CRIMINAL ACTIVITIES BUT I THINK I FOUND MYSELF A DRUM TEACHER!!!!!

Holy fuck I cant believe I actually just did that.

AHAHAHAH THIS ROCKS.

And I am potentially going to Prague in October.

Where the hell did my brain run off too??!!!??

Come back!

Oh on second thought...eh fuck it I like it better this way.

In which I am vindicated

I was walking home from Smolny today, on Troutsky most jamming to whatever it was that came up on random play on the iPod. The song ended, and time stopped with it, I swear, everything except the wind and the whitecaps on the Neva. THe next song that started, automatically and completely unconsciously ofcourse, was the song from my dream. Its called "Five Hebrew Songs" performed by the Choral Project, and the string accompaniment is unbelievably haunting. It makes me wish I had any talent for composition, because I'd die to turn the orchestral backing into a symphony. I'd have it played at my wedding, and then again at my funeral.

But alas. I'm vindicated, ie not completely friggin' nuts.

This choir thing is officially the greatest thing ever. We worked some more on the Vivaldi, which is nice traditional classical literature, happy and basic if for no other reason then I can phonetically almost read latin. Today we spent about half the time on that, and then the rest on a bunch of traditional Russian folk music. The folk songs are...enchanting, for lack of a better word coming to mind. Sitting in the middle of it, I felt like I was on some plain off in Siberia frolicking through the woodlands or better yet, sitting in some anciet village spinning wool, or milking cows, or some such women's work. I dunno if it was the eight part harmony, or just the crazy cutglass clarity of all these girls' voices...again, just ethereally eery. I perhaps was told today that we have a concert in three weeks, but for now I'm going to plead selective incompetence, and not worry or even just attempt to process untill I'm told a second time. Horray for semi plausible idiocy.

Not to be the overdramatic freak of nature that I am, but song of the moment is so very definitly "Amen, omen" Ben Harper. I think I might just have to perpetually ban it to the list of music I can no longer listen to ever again withought horrible connotations (ie...lifehouse, half of my Dave collection, Change in my life Rockapella...um...all of Moulin Rouge). It came up unexpectedly this morning on the way to class, and I was literally chocking back tears in the marshytka. Some songs just hit you in that tender spot, saying exactly everything you've been trying to elucidate for days. And then the sheer revelation of having all your pent up emotions out there in plain English, exposed to the real world, is almost oo much to bear. And then every time after that the song brings you so clearly right back to those emotions, and you're right back there in that moment, reliving over and over all the thick throbbing passions. Maybe thats just me being musical and weird, but I definitly tie everything important to music, and right now that song is...exactly.

Twangy Little Me

Wow, I feel like an idiot now, actually looking at the date in print. I noticed piles of flowers outside the US consulate on my walk home today. I even asked the security guard out front what the deal was, and he looked at me funny and said he didn't know. Duh. Funny the ways we mark time through our days, what we remember, what sticks out so brilliantly, and whats been dulled away by the rush of ages.

I lost my nerve today. I already feel stupid about it. Always say yes atleast the first time, take advantage of every chance that comes along, because you never know where each evening ends. Yea, I talk the theory well, but cant always wrap my head around it when things come my way. Tonight the choir is singing at the wedding of the director, Edvard. They wanted us newbies to come, too, and I was all set to, but lost my nerve at the last minute. I didn't know the area, am not at all connected to the couple getting married, don't have anything to wear...etc etc etc. Basically, couldn't summon ehough balls in the end. I felt really out of place, or rather, assumed I would if I went. Stupid stupid stupid. How cool would it have been to not only see, but be a part of a Russian wedding?!? Grr on me.

In which I'm a heinous bitch. Again.

"He said I looked for you, I don't know why. I said I was wearing black so you could see me against the sky..."

Whomever names that tune wins my undying love and affection forever and ever amen.

No really.

You know you've been in a bus too long when you swear the parents of your favorite sitcom "Not born beautiful" (Yes, exactly like Oskliva Betty...like...completely) just drove by in the other lane...

The only neccesary summary of this weekend's CIEE enforced tour number one to Novgorod:

Tour guide: Oh look at all the beautiful churches! blah blah blah blahy Russian hour two and my brain kicks off
Us: Blah Blah Blah we're loud and anoying and disrespectful and we swear in churches and just generally ingratiating...
Tour guide: Novgorod was the ancient seat of Russian Orthodoxy, blah blah...cultural mecca blah blah
Us: Oh look, kittens!

Yeah, thats all I'm gonna bother to say without sounding like the pretentious prick that I am.

I'm realizing again what a different experience I had living in the boondocks that year in Kostelec. The places that we visited and the landscape we've been driving through reminds me soo much of Bohemia. The condition of the buildings, the houses with patched tin roofs, and the huge garden plot out back encompassing three quarters of the property, the babyshki sitting by the road trying to sell potatoes, even the scary-ass drivers. THe problem is that I keep expecting Kostelec to explain Petersburg questions, and while it can, atleast personality wise, and on the surface, sociologically the mindset is totally different. The extremes are much broader here, between city and country, rich and poor, whatever the determiner, the space between black and white is much more distinct. Even though everything I know culturally from Czech probably applies here, and probably moreso than I know, its just buried under city life and european cosmopolitan urges. This country has a lot further to catch up from than Czech does, those who can run thus run faster. Those who can't are stuck in villages not much different than the ones I knew.

In the end, its what you know of a place, how well you've established yourself, made it your own. Thats all that determines perspective, comfort, attitude, whatever you wanna call it. And I'm not quite there yet, though its coming.

EEH!!!

Short tonight since its 1 am and I have to get up and out on our trip too early tommorow morning (today?)...in five hours. But good news and a great mood were worth at least a few lines. Fred and I went tonight to hear the University Choir, and by some stroke of luck, they actually accepted us!!! Chris, thats my token stupid-ass thing I do in your honor this week...I can't belive we pulled it off. I feel so much better, that drudgery and pit in my stomach is all gone, all for the love of spontenaity and music- like I can breath again, in a tangible sense. Rehearsals for three hours twice a week seem fairly daunting, but life as we kn ow it is a big giant daunting city, and I just found a way to make it mine. Music and real live Russians, and just sittin gin the middle of it soaking it all in, chords, harmony, facial expressions, impassionate useless pleas of directors...my spine tingled. They managed to reconeect me to that circle of wonderfully insane people and things, worldwide, who thrash violently in the direction of artistic expression and far removed passionate perfection.

Thank god. And not a moment too soon.

In Which I finally encounter Marshytki

Behold the wonders of a rapidly westernizing fledgling capitalist society. The most popular form of transport in this city, after chastniki of course, are marshrytki, or in plain english, a crazy mother fucker with enough money to buy himself (or enough connection to steal one) a fairly larged sized minivan and drive it on a relatively fixed route through the city. All the vans are rigged out to sit 10-12 people, and basically, anyone at anytime can request to be dropped off somewhere along the route.

So this morning, by dumb luck, stroke of fate, or the fact that I'm retarded when it comes to blowdrying my hair (Lena, upon seeing me blowdry for the first time "Oy girlie! Theres hope for you yet!") and thus left the apartment later than usual, ended up catching a marshytka instead of the normal assrapage on the bus. They run on the same route, so its really a crap shoot which comes first. SO I see it coming, stick my arm out, shut my eyes, and pray I just dont get struck down on the sidewalk. Yes, sidewalk= oh fuck I'm late lane. The van comes rushing at me, screeching to a halt like fifteen feet further down the road. I grab my bag, take off for it, and climb in with just enough time to slam the door shut as the driver pulls away at like 50 km ph. I sit down in the last seat behind the driver, facing backwards, the lucky one with the priveledge of spending the ensuing half hour starting back at 10 morose Russians. Luckily, we were full up for about half way to my school, which mean the driver could just cruise past all the crowds on the corners. Unlike the busses, which seem to be in competition for who can carm the most people into the smallest foulest smelling place. My luck held up untill half the van emptied at the business complex not far from downtown. Then, in exchange for the six or eight people who got off, twelve more got on. This meant about 5 business men in suits stood crouching between the seats and in the wheel well by the door. Its no mean feat to stnad for any amount of time in a van of any size, and these psuedo-dignified suits looked so absurd standing there, I couldn't help but snigger. Then the whole company growled at me, so I pretended to by tying my shoe for the rest of the way. Just thankfully someone else asked for a stop at Smolny, so I didn't actually half to deal with the driver. But yea. Definitly a change of pace, and much cushier than the bus.

Sorry for the bitching long post, but I'm up to date now...

August 26, 2005

And the deja vus continues. I’m beginning to think that maybe my initial hesitation about drawing Russian conclusions from Czech experiences may be unfounded. After being verbally accosted by several old men today, I’m convinced this place is just as bizarre as Cheznovice, and the camp for demented little boys was. Maybe the difference really only is that this time I understand the language and can actually tell when people are laughing at me. Earlier today we had a break from orientation, so we’re all sitting around chatting or smoking. Some dedushki pushed their way through telling us that we should all be ashamed of ourselves, smoking. So I told him not everyone did, that I didn’t and he said, “Well good. Now you can get married.”

The second anecdote involved a perhaps drunken old man on the way to dinner and a quick rescue by one of the Russian students, so we won’t mention any specifics. Again, I’m not completely convinced it’s a good thing that I understand what people are saying about me. Makes them harder to ignore.

Dear Riana: I met a muy bonito interesante mejicano today. You’d be proud.

…

Well, still hate discos. Oh well, it was worth a try. Still way to weak when it comes to vodka. Still way too uncompassionate when it comes to stupid “American” behavior, and way too tolerant of drunk people. So, in other words, things are exactly the same, except when they’re completely different.

But it smells just like sitting on my windowsill looking down on the namesti in spring time.

August 28, 2005

I’m watching some really badly dubbed Sylvester Stallone movie, wishing I hadn’t passed out earlier and thus would be remotely sleepy.

Today was, monumental. We had our first outing as a group this morning. I was…well…not happy with the whole group thing, to put it lightly. Or in Peggy language… GOD DAMN I can’t stand crowds of foreigners. Oh the hypocrisy, but CHRIST PEOPLE. Judgmental, yea, I know, and I’m sure I’m really not that much better, but it damn it, we’re loud, ethnocentric, obtrusive, picky, impolite, and frankly, it DRIVES ME UP THE FUCKING WALL. I look back on everything, and just pray I wasn’t that offensive that first year, and cringe because I know I was just as bad. Sometimes I just hope that all the people in the world who have had to deal with me at various awkward stages in my life just know how thankful I am, and that I’ve eventually figured things out to some extent. That it wasn’t all in vain…

Even in a group like this I find myself gravitation towards the foreigners, the freaks, and the guys. After our outing today Pavle, the Serb from Johns Hopkins, and I went out to lunch. I wandered around with Bruno, the Mexican for a while later that night. But the squeaky girls with their sparkles and flashing the money not at all inconspicuously and their accents, and just dripping sarcasm and ridicule for their situation here, make me feel like I’m back in High School. Again, I wonder how you can go about teaching cultural sensitivity and flexibility, or just plain tolerance. Or can you teach it at all, is it just inherent. Was I that bad three years ago?!?

Right, so, soapbox done for the moment. Back to the adventures. The metro is less scary than I expected. It freaks me out having to open my bag in public, I’m so terrified of pickpockets after umpteen “Oh my god you’re all going to get mugged” lectures. But it wasn’t that bad. I haven’t yet had to go by myself, but in general Metro less scary than marshrutki where you actually have to deal with the driver. Much less frightening. Tomorrow I go to the institute by marshrutka, but Lena said she’d go with me to show me the way.

I’m actually quite happy with the family situation. I feel really comfortable, which I definitely was not expecting. My room is about the size of Bara and I’s room in Kostelec, no joke, or Masha and I’s room in Akindom minus the closet space. In the first bedroom sleep Lena, and her younger daughter Lilia (13), then my room, then in the third bedroom liver her older daughter Valia (16) and her boyfriend Ruslan. Very interesting, and all the more scandalous because he’s *gasp* from Moldavia. Not because he’s 19 and lives there. Yea. Oh, and most importantly our three cats Dima, Lisa, and Vasia. Lena is fairly young, I’d guess early 40’s but in name only, talks a blue streak, but really amicable. She even gave me an extra SIM cart for my phone. She seems very helpful, but not remotely overbearing. The daughters so far are pretty chill. We spent the evening dyeing Valia’s hair and looking at pictures. As awkward as it is, I’m all for the sitting and talking, even if the only thing I can contribute is “Yea, interesting”. But yea, I’m satisfied.

Now that family stuff is out of the way, I can happily start dreading school in the morning. And several hours of placement exams. Hurrah.

But there is something authentically cool about looking out my window at the spire on top of Peter and Paul fortress while someone sets off fireworks somewhere over on Vasilievsky Island. Or discovering that I live like three blocks away from the world’s most northern mosque.

I have some serious shopping to do if I ever want to pass the blend in test. After lunch, Pavle and I were walking near the Church of the Spilled Blood, and were asked twice by some oldies from the states to take their pictures. D’oh. I think its shoes for a start.

Killer robots. Enough TV.

August 29, 2005

I think I might just swear of the internet for the duration, and for that matter, all non-classical music. This whole homesickness phenomenon is so foreign to me; I really don’t know how to handle myself. Checking the email tonight really sent me over the edge, that plus the rest of my 47 emails, and reading school people’s notes and journals. Its such a difference, now that I actually have people and things at home to miss.

Ok, in the less emotional side of the day, I got heinously heinously lost somewhere in the neighborhood on my way home today. Well, not exactly. I went with a crowd to an internet café on Nevsky downtown, and from their Fred and I decided to find our way back to Petrogradskaya (our neighborhood) by ourselves on foot. That in itself was enough of a hike, but then I got a bit turned around between his building on Bolshoi prospect back over to anywhere remotely familiar. I ended up walking the entire length of Bolshoi like, twice…and its friggin long. But yea, alls well that ends well, right?

I even survived our wicked long test this morning. I was feeling pretty ok for the first like…four or five pages of it, and then my eyes glazed over and my brain turned off. After awhile I just started x’ing answers. The interview portion went fairly well I thought, besides from my continuing incapability to give anyone a simple answer ever. I can’t even give my name without a drawn out explanation, so don’t even try hobbies and other such information. I guess we’ll see in the morning how things turned out??

I CAN’T STAND BEING THIS PERPETUALLY TIRED. BOZHE.

August 30, 2005

So who ended up in the highest group?!? I did! Yea, I know, how the fuck did that happen?!? Out of 50ish CIEE students, there are four of us, a little more for reading and conversation classes. I don’t at all believe I belong in a group with a heritage speaker and a serb, me the twangy white girl. Confidence, confidence. Oh where did you flee to? Today, more than anything else, revealed how hellishly long 24 hours of class during a week will prove to be. My brain turns off for long intervals between coffee breaks and meals, which is all told…like half my day. I was actually really happy with all the teachers. Today included analitika, fonetika, and conversation. I’ll agree with Pavle, in saying that phonetics will be my most despised but singularly useful class of the semester. Like he said, you can recognize the teacher’s intonation as correct and familiar, but none of us have managed to reproduce the right sounds yet.

Tomorrow we have grammar and again conversation. Riana, trust me when I say I’m commiserating with you sitting and actually having to do grammar in a class. Oh what joy. If by joy you mean making me want to gouge out my eyes.

Note to self: bring one extra layer than you think is necessary in the morning. Don’t argue

August 31, 2005

Victory of the day: well, besides not rolling over and dying in Grammar, most definitely walking home from the institute. Pavle and I walked along the Neva up two bridges over from the one I know in front of the fortress, and then cut through the neighborhood. The exercise felt really good, plus more exploring always puts me in a better mood. It only took us about half an hour, but when I’m upset and cold, I walk super fast apparently. We sat in the pivnice in Alexandrovsky park and had a bar in this old wine cellar. Russian beer definitely not up there with Plsner, but beats the shit out of what we’ve been drinking in Portland for sure.

I’m getting a cold. This is ridiculous. Maybe less wandering on the embankments and more clothes.

The spire on the fortress is glowing brilliant golden against the clouds. It looks like its backlit, but its really just the gold against the storm clouds and the sky.

MTV Russia is, so very weird.

September 1, 2005

Somehow I always forget how absolutely lonely being sick away from home makes me feel. Or for that matter, the effect antihistamines have on me. I’m a little disconcerted about having to cut into my cold pills stash within the second week in country, but yea, it beats vodka shots.

Today was the first day of school for normal Petersburgers. It was kinda cool to see everyone all dressed up carrying their flowers to the teachers. I couldn’t help but thinking how cool it would be to live in a country with such respect for education. But then I started thinking about living here, with these girls, who have no desire, much less prospects for higher education. Its such a different attitude, with that expectation handing above you all the time. Maybe that freedom allows them to actually appreciate what they’re doing. How’s that for a giant generalization in all directions?

My bus coming home today was stopped by the police. Yeah, definitely one of the most scary things to happen in a while. The driver got out to talk to the cops. They looked at something under the bus for a while, then the driver came back, and we drove away. The whole concept of living so tied to your documents just freaks me out. You know the one day I don’t have my papers with me is gonna be the day I get stopped on the street. I told everyone what had happened this evening, and Ruslan was saying it probably had something to do with how scared everyone is, since today was the year anniversary of Beslan.

Eery.

September 2, 2005

The first step of any negative is taking control of the situation. I’m slowly remembering the tricks of keeping oneself in the right state of mind. My self imposed internet ban failed, as I knew it would, but this second fix was even less satisfying than the first trip. But than I realized that sitting in the apartment in my room feeling shitty is stupid. What a waste of everything. So then I went for a walk, got lost again, and felt ten times better. Now that I’m sitting back here though, yea, no good.

We had an outing this afternoon to the fortress, but I didn’t really understand anything, and forgot all that I did actually get. I was OK for the first 20 minutes or so, and then the days of feeling shitty and tired and sick I guess caught up with me. The most interesting thing I got out of the tour was watching the other guides interact with their groups of foreign dignitaries. My favorite was a tall willowy very Russian blonde conducting a Chinese tour. Very possibly the whitest person I have ever seen speaking Chinese, well, not including Killmer. Every time any other group came through speaking another language, I totally lost all concentration till I figured out what they were speaking. I know some tsars were buried there in the cathedral, and I know the walls were actually painted to look like marble cause they were too cheap for the real stuff.

September 4, 2005

I’m ecstatic! I spent like all day today with real live Russians. I didn’t believe I could pull it off, but I did, and it was awesome. They brought a group of Russian students with us when we had orientation last week in Repino (god, was it only a week ago??) and I spoke a bit to some of the girls. They asked me for my phone number, but I didn’t have one yet, so I didn’t think anything of it. Then one of the girls showed up today for our excursion to the park out on Kristovsky Island, her name was Nadia. She has her friend Lena with her, and I talked to them for most of the trip. Afterwards, most of the group went to some restaurant or bar or something, which I wasn’t particularly interested in, so we went out instead. I kind of invited myself, but yea, since when have social graces been a particular talent of mine?!? They seemed genuinely happy to have me along, if I read the situation right… We went to a theater pretty close by actually, somewhere on Bolshoi prospect, to see a French film called Les Choiristes”. Since Russians don’t believe in subtitles, I was freaked that I wouldn’t understand it all, but things went fairly well. Of course I didn’t catch every word, but got the gist. It was a beautiful film, about a music teacher in a state boarding school for …bad boys? And how he started a choir which inadvertently went on to solve a lot of the discipline and attitude problems in the school, and changed a lot of the boys’ lives. Beautiful music…but how I’m missing playing now…

But most importantly, I made a friend! Maybe even two! A real live Russian who knows my name and maybe even something more besides from just social pleasantries. Two weeks, not even, in the country…and all without even going on one of my infamous “damn it be my friend” campaigns. Maybe this whole social thing isn’t so overrated after all…

September 5, 2005

Shower problem officially solved. Hooray for proactiveness. But the whole hygiene factor still sucks after standing on the bus for an hour, ass up against the world. Eh.

September 6, 2005

So things get interesting-er and interesting-er at our house. I sat with Lena last night drinking tea, and she told me about her husband, all her lovers, how they got married a month before Valia was born, and so on. It was…a most interesting conversation (read: awkward as fuck) but I wasn’t sure whether this was supposed to be shocking material or normal. I had absolutely no idea what to measure this whole interchange against, so the whole time I just kind of muttered semi-coherently, and hoped she would interpret something useful…

…
Sometimes I wonder if my reputation is forwarded wherever I go, and this great big giant kick me sign that screams my endearing pushover qualities is just perpetually pinned to my backside. Well, no, not really, but that’s the gut impulse whenever I find myself enmeshed in new activities. Stress on the “find myself” and “enmeshed”, even though I know its nothing but my own choices, I’m the only guilty one. But busy is always better than not, and rationally (hah) thinking, I will feel a lot better when doing something productive with my free time, besides getting heinously lost in the five block radius surrounding my house, or reading, or sleeping. Ideally, productive would be music, or sport, or something in which I could deal with Russians regarding a mutual passion. Volunteering as an English native speaker at least gets me out there on a semi-regular basis involved in the community, dealing with Russian outside of our small classroom.

Feeling this displaced is rattling, but maybe because of the parts that don’t really freak me out at all. I’m totally fine being in this household, getting around the city for the most part, school, etc. I’m fairly well oriented in terms of waking up in the morning and feeling confident to get through what I need to in my day. I guess its more of an emotional displacement. I wasn’t at all rattled by seeing a guy pop a squat and take a crap on the street (not like that first morning way back in Hradec…ah…memories…) I’m disturbed by dealing with myself and my reactions to interactions. I feel like I haven’t found something to latch onto yet, pour my energy into, and thus, haven’t really let my feet touch the ground here yet. I mean yea, duh, of course. Hurray for the introspection and all of unoccupied time and space, but its also a very surreptitiously false experience, as false as I let myself be all last year, and I don’t want that. The question remains: how to infiltrate, how to take the plunge. I almost wish I wasn’t so easily adjustable to my surroundings. That would at least be a concrete issue to deal with. All this emotional abstraction is just a pain in the ass.

September 7, 2005

I had that dream again last night, and I woke up so happy because of it. I dunno if that’s because of who was involved or just how calming the string symphony is (wish I could figure out what the music actually is!! Not knowing is driving me batty…) but either way, the ensuing realization is like coming down off of a chemical high-disturbing, cold, and empty. I do this to myself, I know it, so what right to complain…

I think lying in bed and staring out at the clouds scurrying across the night sky around the tower must be some kind of spell…

In which I go insane...Take eight million

I'm auditioning for the choir at the main campus of the state university tonight. I've officially gone insane. Like, certifiably. Oh, lordy...why do I get myself into these things?!?

Immodium Forever

Title= Current winner of my "Kickass Semi-fluency in English Graffiti"campaign.

I'm here. Today was our first day of classes. If by classes you mean godawful three hour long placement test and interview. Oh, and of course, my second HIV test in six months. Those of you who know me well know that needles+me = NOT GOOD TERMS. I was kind of hoping I'd totally lose it and pass out on them. No such luck.

I'm actually very pleased with the whole host family situation. Nice part of town, walking from our flat to the metro reminds me of Boston. No joke. Family includes the mom, two daughters, the 16 year old daughters boyfriend, and three cats. Not bad. My room is about the size of the one I shared in the village in Kostelec, and just a bit smaller than Masha's and I's in Akindom. So yea, fairly satisfied. I've got my three block radius from our building in every direction down pretty well, and now am attempting to move on to the other side of the river.

God I can't stand stupid americans. Hate. Shaking my angry fist just doesn't cut it. I've sworn at a couple in quick Russian and they just look befuddled. Yes, I'm an ass.

Riana- I met a muy simpatico bonito mejicano. You'd be very impressed.

Chris- God I love ya kid. Say the word and I'll beat her up.

J- Every time I pass a cathedral I think of you.

Basta.

Quotes

Quote of the day: Ben "Wait, they ahve animals here?!?" after happening upon a from while we were "exploring" (looking for the bar).

Well the freakish parrallels of my life and experiences continue. I made it back to the airport in one piece, and didn't even shell out half a kidney for the priviledge. Because I wasn't sure when precisely we were supposed to be meeting at the airport, I got there on the early end. By end I mean 6 hours. But it was fun, I read my book, and got to play spot the foreigner to my heart's content. Unfortunately, spot the foreigner usually implicates me. Off the rotation in my wardrobe for the duration include: flip-flops, sweatshirts, sneakers, and any sort of nonformfitting anything. Fabulous. Sometimes I really loath my perception capabilities, because after today, there is absolutely no excuse. After a few more hours (totatlly would have preferred hanging in the city, a la AFS) one of the leaders showed up and hearded us to the busses. Much to my irony, it was the exact same busses that I loathed and loved in Hradec way back when. SO we exchangers pilled in the bus, mingled awkwardly, and promptly all passed out for most of the two hour ride out to the boondockis. OK, so this place is totally several steps up from Cheznovice and the crazy boys, but the resemblances are eery. Substitute boys for hoards of babushkas, and you're good to go.

The kids seem pretty nice, but again, trying not to fall into that trip. Its interesting seeing who personality wise fall sinto which group, and who actually endevours to speak russian. As usual, I feel like I'll fall into place with the guys more than the girls, but we'll see.

I walked in the Finnish gulf today. As in, the gulf of Finland. How absolutely absurd is that ?!?

Damn it I haven't even started yet and I want to stay longer

Day One

Well, day one. I guess just being here, at least for the moment, is just about all I can ask. In the 12 hours or so that I' ve been here, I've had enough adventures and screw ups to satisfy me for a while. By the same token, that old exhiliration is pulsing smoothly again, and maybe I can put all this unease behind me for a while. My emotions are so much different this time around, its consistantly surprising. I feel like I should rename or atleast rededicate this journal to everyone that has grown so important to me in the past three years since I last fled the country, it is them I think about as I walk the streets, composing. Everything reminds me of conversations I've had, arguments, discussions. We always figured we had it easy, way back when in Czech, because just falling into that life meant no one expected anything of you. More so than just that, three years ago I was very much running away, very much alone, and very very very naive. Now I know better, but now I have no excuse. All day today I've been watching my actions in split screen, step by step overlaid with that first discovery back in Prague and New York. Definitly had several oh fuck kick me moments, defininitly had some stupid choices, and some serious resentment of having to deal with everything myself, versus getting blissfully led through all this entry bullshit. My actual language facility has already prooved both holey and oh so useful. I got taken for a ride in an unmarked cab coming from the airport. This I expected, but by the same token I'm not sure what I could have done differently. According to the girl at the reception desk here in the hotel I paid atleast double what I should have. Sitting there, I just wished I would've had the balls to take the marshytka or the electrichka train to the metro, atleast then I wouldn't have felt so ridiculously helpless. A good reminder, I guess. I've given myself today to wallow in my American-ness, hide in the room all day, eat in a restaurant, wear sweatpants, etc. Tommorow begins the assimilation.

Though I'm slightly resenting the responsibility that comes with having a decent handle on the language, I'm rapidly remembering the uses of linguistic proficiency. Tonight after I'd eaten in the restaurant at the hotel, I realized I probably didn't have enough rubles to pay the cab back to the airport in the morning. So I went back down to the desk to find out where I could change the rest of my euros. The girl I had talked to earlier wasn't there, so I asked the security guard. I started in English, but soon switched to Russian once he started answering. I guess I didn't quite catch all the directions (yea, how notoriously my brain turns off after the first five minutes of important information), because I ended up wandering around the metro station for about half an hour. Finally I gave up, and found myself back at the hotel near in tears. After further consultation, with both the guard and the girl, I figured out where the misunderstanding was (this whole conversation was in Russian, mind you) and was just about to set out again, when the guard offered to drive me. I was so blown away. But that kindness would definitly never have happened if I'd been speaking English. Never.

Enough. More masochistic adventures tommorow. Bring it.

OH FUCK.

"Stuff your eyes with wonder. Live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream paid for in factories. Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away. To hell with that! Shake the tree and knock the great sloth down on his ass." - Ray Bradbury

Quote of the day. Not sure why, 'cept that I'm tired, and that much anticipated oh fuck freak out moment is rapidly approaching. The day (my last in this country for a while) is breaking down something like this:

- Breakfast with Tickle Boy (yes. you earned yourself a new name)
- Run to school to get rid of several pounds of tomatoes to band staff, give out my address to any and all assembled
- Another Target run (return extra camera case, attempt to get my watch shortened, general forgetful mayhem)
- More errands
- Pick up pants from cleaners
- Mall for memory card, mayhap take two of watch repair
- Stuffing bags full of crap
- Laundry
- Stuffing more bags full of crap
- Meeting Fraddy for last minute consoling/bitching/god I adore that man
- Attempting to make bread with Mommy. Dunno, but it sounded cool.
- Last dinner with my family
- More laundry
- More stuffing bags
- Tea with most adorable wise church lady (she asked.)
- More stuffage
- Charge the ipod
- Pack plane bag
- Repack plane bag, remembering that I'm now officially on a terrorist watch list. Try not to be an idiot, smartass, or inviting (for that story just ask)
- Perchance sleep some

Flights leaving tommorow from Reagan National (it frightens me how many people in this area don't even remember it before it was Reagan, and just plain national airport. OK so maybe I do have a bit of the native pride in me. Just a bit) at 12, so we'll probably head out around 10ish. I will do my best to actually sleep.

So much irrational nostalgia right now. I scare my self. So much is just the same as my last departure three years ago, like exactly. But so much is so very very different. My mind can't switch gears fast enough.

Confession

To be honest, I kinda dig it.

Yea. So there.

I both loathed and adored band camp for my three years of American High School because, well, because of the power it had over me. I grew so ensconced with the people, with the motions of it, with the unifying of everyone towards the one goal. I loved bonding with all the crazy kids, out on the marching field, rep after rep, in the sun, in the fog, in the hail, in the thunder storms. I loved working so endlessly, working so productively. I really loved the weekend trips to competitions (band busses full of band kids...what you know is truer than you think.) I grew to trust our director more than I trust my own father. Then, when I found myself betrayed by those very same people, I think some of that sadness just rubbed off on the activity by association. Senior year I resented being in our marching band, because it was such a far cry from the band I'd grown to know and love, the work ethic, the pure torture of a very competitive ensemble getting ready for a very competitive season. Sometimes I look back and think maybe it was just me. Maybe I was just scared shitless of all my drummer guys freshman year. Maybe sophomore year I was just scared. Maybe thats why everything else seemed so intimidating and overblown in comparison. But if nothing else, marching band was the focus of my high school, more so than foreign languages, more so than sports by far. And band camp, the whole glorious hell that is the two weeks prior to the first day of school, was the heart of the experience.

When I heard what was happening this year, how basically, everyone in charge of everything by some act of god through no fault of their own is seriously incapacitated and can't come to instruct, my first response was pity. And than quickly laughter. Insert one of those Nelson giant "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAA" here. But most of all, I felt bad that it had come to this, two new instructors, which ever graduates they can sweet talk into coming to tech on the field, and for the moment, me running pit. Yea, I cursed alot of my time that I spent in the highschool music department. But it also played a big part in making me who I am today, both good and bad. I guess the easiest way to explain schizophrenic change of heart- I feel bad. And I feel like I owe it to the man and the place that gave me so much. I can say, without a doubt, without music, I never would have made it through highschool alive.

So here I am. Spending 8 hours a day of my last week in country working at Marching Band Camp. Trying to teach a bunch of munchkins their show, in less than 5 days. And honestly, I get the biggest kick out of being there. In the two days that I have been there, we've actually learned the whole opener of the show, the whole first piece. We wont mention its some twisted combonation of Paul Simon's "Like a Bridge Over Troubled Water", and someone else's "Pinball Fantasy". Yeaaaaaaaaaah 70's rock medley. But to my surprise, they actually sound decent. I feel like I'm the biggest fraud out there. We'll go through the music chunk by chunk, break the hard parts down, take the speed heinously slow, then move things quicker. Basically, everything I can possibly do to teach them this music. Now, having exhausted all the tricks of the trade I remember from way back when, I'm just making it up as I go along, just waiting for someone to call me on it. Sometimes I feel like life, destiny, most of my mentors, you name it, are all subversively pushing me in the direction of teaching. I keep fighting it, and they keep winning. Teaching swimming lessons, teaching czech, running rehearsals at school, tutoring with Russian. Why why why?

I dig it. I really do. And that surprises me...Today was awesome. We were outside all day long (I have the tan lines to prove it), just repping music while the band was setting drill and going through the motions. All in all, it was ridiculously unproductive activity, for those of us involved in the part of the marching band who don't march. But much to my surprise, we actually got stuff done. The girls just kept on working when everyone else was busy. They have most of their music to the first part of the show memorized. In my day, hah. Not likely. Far more than not likely. I'm the one that managed to fall asleep sitting under the marimba during band camp, while everyone was out on the field marching. So I'm totally floored by how well things are going, if still wondering when people are going to catch on that I haven't a fucking clue what I'm doing.

Why do the music and the language parts of my have to be in such constant and consistant opposition? Like, I'd be more than happy doing this for a good part of my life, music I mean. But I only feel like that when I'm in the middle of it. All summer long I was totally immersed in Russian, and thought I was happier than ever, wandering along by the beach muttering to myself.

Why can't I have both?

Because I am More Than A Dork

Band Camp.

*Sigh*.

That is all there is to say.

'Cept that its funny, the director always swore hed get that last band camp back from me, the one I missed junior year.

Summer Lessons

Уроки Лета

Я сижу на плаже сейчас пишая, когда я дольжна в конце учиться. Хотела я немношка подумать о том, что мне в этом летом было полезно. Вот что я придумала:

1. Никто и ничего нет как в первой гляде казались. Никого нет того человека, на которого они похоже, кроме того, когда ты попала ближе чем ты думала.

2. Туман нет совсем только тумана. Это не только недостатока сольнца, больше того туман есть присуствие горизонта, и сознание мальенких вещах. Очень лёгко я могу проводить несколько часов играя в отливе, больше чем на уроков.

3. Каждый день ходить нет совсем плохой, и даже на верху. Таким образом человек надо медленее ехать, и также медленее быть, больше смотреть на то, что рядом с тобой происходит. Я не управляю мир, и не буду никогда. Лучше стараться не быть беспокойна время, потому что не могу-ли я делать чтобы мениться его.

4. Крема на сольнце всегда каждым образом хорошо! Не важно кого-то дома нет, на каком-то настроение ты пропала, или что-нибудь больше, ЗАГОРАТЬ БЕЗ ОДЕЖДУ СОВСЕМ ПЛОХО!!! СОВСЕМ!

5. Всё однисительно. Всё всегда зависет от тебе, и больше того, от состояния. Не придумай, что будешь понимать. Может быть что да, будешь, и даже самый, что не будешь. Всё ровно, потому что всё однисительно. Лучше всего будет стараться слушать и слышать.

6. Отбегать из носталгии значет, что тем быстрее к тебе помяты приходят.

7. Иногда можешь пешком в море, но, обычно надо нерять.

Я до сих пор уверна, что програма была мне полезно, с всеми нашеми драмами ( придумала слово?) и всё. Ну, я ещё сначала безпокоиться...но я бы не обяснила от чево или о чём. На русском слово не знаю для...когда-то...когда ты только хочешь ездить и ездить и ездить...а не хочешь никогда нигде оставать. Так как неприятный или похоже на то. Я хочу начинать. Я уже терпеть ждать не могу!

I think I'm falling in love.

Sorry for again Russian, but I came across this Anna Axmatova poem in my text book today, and I couldn't even begin to express it in English. Don't ask, I'm fine, this is just too beautiful to pass up.

Последний тост

Я пью за разорённый дом,
За злую жизнь мою,
За одиночество вдвоём,
И за тебя я пью,--
За ложь меня предавших губ,
За мёртвый холод глаз,
За то, что мир жесток и груб,
За то, что Бог не спас.
~Анна Ахматова (1934)

Last toast
I drink for the ruined house,
For a my malicious life,
For loneliness together,
And for you I drink,-
For the lies of my betrayed lips,
For the dead cold of eyes,
For that the world is severe and rude,
For that God has not saved us.
~Anna Axmatova