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.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Friday, November 25, 2005
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...
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...
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, November 21, 2005
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...
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...
Thursday, November 17, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, November 11, 2005
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.
Monday, November 07, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
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.
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.
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