American in Bulgaria

on the run

2007-07-26T15:25:00.000+03:00

I promise promise promise that I will eventually update with lots of travel stories and pics. I don't want to ruin the highlights though, with out proper illustration. So once I get to a computer with internet and all of mine and Elayna's pics on it, I don't won't to spoil the coolness. Suffice it to say, we've covered Italy, became citizens of the State of Exit in Serbia, surfed our way through the couches of Croatia, and now we are exploring Bosnia. Tomorrow night we head back to the great Bulgarian wilderness. I'm so happy to be headed back that way. Although I don't plan on getting much rest anytime soon, I will be glad to get back to someplace I kind of know.

Next on the agenda: Bulgaria: Super throw down party for Kaka Yulia's birthday; whirlwind rental car tour of western Bulgaria, settle down for a month of serious studying to become a certified English teacher (by Cambridge Uni, thankyouverymuch).

That's all for now. XOXO from Sarajevo!!

ciao bella!

2007-07-02T22:10:00.000+03:00

sorry, no pics here, but this is to let you kids know that the sister and i are safe and sound in italy. well, kinda... this internet club is a bit sketch, and our hotel room looks a bit like a hospital room. but the sheets are clean and the water is warm. and italy is as beautiful as every. today we went to Verona (the home of Romeo and Juliet) and are now in Milano, the home of one of the worlds most beautiful cathederals. pics later...

no good stories to tell yet. pics will follow later...

revalation

2007-06-20T10:37:00.001+03:00

There is a myth that Bulgarian adults look down on silliness in adults.

After an intense testing period, I have discovered this is generally not the truth.

Testing went as followed:
Three plastic water guns were purchased at the local street bazaar.
Water guns were filled in the central water fountain.
Two American testers and one unwitting Bulgarian commenced silly activities, including but not limited to:

shooting water guns at each other
running to evade incoming streams of water
shouting
shooting known passersby
shooting neighborhood kids

Results:

Generally, judging from reactions, viewers and participants smiled and laughed convivially rather than pretentiously. In some cases viewers approached the testers for conversation. Overall, results of this experiment were very positive and have yielded mass amounts of laughter-induced endorphins. The testing was repeated more than 4 times and results were consistant.

yeah for somebody else

2007-06-12T19:52:00.000+03:00

I just want to say how proud I am sometimes to live in Nashville. In Tennessee!

Nashvilleans can be so generous!

I just read the annual report of Catholic Charities of Tennessee. The numbers are astounding, particularly in areas of refugee and immigrant services. Here are a few:

416 REFUGEES AND
IMMIGRANTS received assistance
in seeking family reunifications,
citizenship, and protection from
persecution and violence through
the Immigration Services Program

205 REFUGEES from around the
world resettled in Nashville, and
225 ADDITIONAL REFUGEES
assisted with ongoing social
services through the Refugee
Resettlement and Refugee Social
Services Programs

300 SOMALI BANTU REFUGEES
were provided extra case management
in order to assist them in their
move toward self-sufficiency

Catholic Charities Tennessee's Refugee and Immigration Services Department made up 22% of the total budget in the last fiscal year. The Social Services expenses were nearly 44 % of the budget. Shockingly, administrative and auxilary services departments made up less than 8% of the expenses for the last fiscal year.

WAY TO GO!!

check them out: Catholic Charities of Tennessee

whooooraaah for somebody

2007-06-12T18:14:00.000+03:00

My mom forwarded this link to me. Turns out someone in middle Tennessee has the right idea, in my opinion, of course.

Cornerstone Church in Madison, Tennessee and its members have decided and committed to renovating a local school. The budget is $180,000 and includes external improvements such as painting, landscaping, and playground equipment. They also plan to provide new computers, toilets, floors, and carpets. Way to go!

The pastor, Maury Davis, said in an article in The Tennessean, "it's time to do something significant, to reach out and affect the lives in our hometown, where God has called us."

Also from the same article, written by Al Cleveland,

For a spiritual standpoint, their mission is fairly well spelled out.

"The Bible says to go into all the world and preach the Gospel, and there are different ways of preaching," Davis said.

"Because of court rulings about separation of church and state, which changed the entire paradigm of how the church relates to the government in the last 40 years, we're not allowed to go in and do Bible studies and things like that. So we're having to find a more contemporary and acceptable way to share the love of Jesus in a
tangible form."

I am refreshed to see a church seeking out and applying ways to show Love.

overwhelming evidence

2007-06-07T21:22:00.000+03:00

i am tired, cranky, sick of travelling.

every where i look there is something to be done that has no beginning point and no ending point.

the list of tasks to accomplish in the next three weeks brings me to tears. literally.

I just read this in a book called Ask the Dust by John Fante:

"But, I have to smile, for the salt of the sea is in my blood, and there may be ten thousand roads over the land, but they shall never confuse me, for my heart's blood will ever return to its beautiful source."

"Then what shall I do? Shall I lift my mouth to the sky, stumbling and burbling with a tongue that is afraid? Shall I open my chest and beat it like a loud drum, seeking the attention of my Christ? Or is it not better and more reasonable that I cover myself and go on? There will be confusions, and there will be hunger; there will be loneliness with only my tears like wet consoling little birds, tumbling to sweeten my dry lips. But there shall be consolation, and there shall be beauty like the love of some dead girl. There shall be some laughter, a restrained laughter, and quiet waiting in the night, a soft fear of the night like the lavish, taunting kiss of death."

Perhaps the beauty of this passage is lost with out the context, but I think you can appreciate the imagery in and of itself.

how do i pack two years of my life into a few suitcases and end it?

i'm not throwing out any babies

2007-06-04T18:53:00.000+03:00

I think the combined impact of my recent posting, and an email I wrote to her, have terrified my mother. I'm pretty sure she's sent her prayer warriors after me. Which I appreciate, of course.

I'm not exactly sure who is the author of the comment on the post, "indignation," but I want to respond to her (i'm pretty sure it's a her because the comment was linked to a women's organization) claim that Truth is the color or Jesus. I understand that to mean that we can realize Truth through an understanding of Jesus. Sounds good...

So then, in who's understanding of Jesus should I rely? Is Jesus the beginning and ending of Truth? Is it possible that Jesus contains Truth, and Truth contains Jesus, but they are not entirely the same thing? I mean, is it possible that in Jesus is everything True, and in Truth is all of Jesus, but there is Truth outside of Jesus, and there is Jesus outside of Truth. What is Truth? AHHHH the anarchy and chaos!!

I have other, more heretical questions. Questions, notions, and ideas that I fielded to my mum and I think I frightened her. Sorry mommo.

I've got something even more heretical rolling through the space between my ears...

I don't believe my salvation lies in a formula of trite phrases, dare I say cliches, based on the opinion of interpreters of interpreters of recorders of Jesus' words. I believe Truth lies within every human heart as it is in the image of God and my salvation lies in my faith and response to that Truth. I believe Jesus is the most perfect way our weak minds can deal with how to respond to Truth and that he was a living representation of Truth.

Heretic thought #429: I think we, the Christian church, have missed the forest for the trees. I think we have stopped responding to Truth because we've been too busy analyzing and trying to figure out what it is in some sense we aren't even meant to understand. I want to simply believe that Truth exists and act on it, respond to it.

Why do I keep capitalizing truth? I'm referring to ultimate Truth, the kind that is etched into your soul. I will make the heretic claim #378 that God is Truth (that's not the heretic part, i know) and that one of the ways to understand God and participate in His nature is to try to seek Truth in our actions - respond to it. How? Think of a big T Truth... All men are created equal, for example. So, if you believe that, do you act on it? Do you try to repair inequalities between people groups? Here's another: All men have the innate right to life. Do you fight to protect life all over the world? Or do you prefer to bicker over what life is? I'll refrain from soapboxing here. By seeking to act in a True way we act in a Godly way, in a way Jesus showed and all the scripture before that sought to mete out through laws.

Maybe this God thing is so much less complicated than our dogma leads us to believe.

I know this post is already chaotic enough, and should be divided up and well organized (maybe some day i'll get ejermacated and write meself a book), but I have one more thought for tonight, and that is a fear. I love this constant questioning and longing of the soul. A quest in which every conclusion raises more questions. I fear some people will doubt my wisdom and authority because I prefer raising questions to giving answers, and think less of me.

Who am I to give answers?

There is an arrogance so foul in the claim that one has a complete grasp on anything of God, which is by default, anything in existence and anything conceivable, since God created all things and is in all things. But that claim is one which the church all over the world and through all of her history has made. This attempt to shackle God into our feeble realm of conceivability is, to my understanding, more blasphemous than anything I have asserted.

Please, do not take from me the mystery of God.

I'd love to hear your thoughts... I brace myself for your criticism, if even to say my thoughts are too muddled to understand.

The Devil Came On Horseback

2007-06-03T12:12:00.000+03:00

I don't know how much you know about the situation in Darfur, but this video seems like it would be quite enlightening. Here's a clip...

The Devil Came On Horseback

Add to My Profile More Videos

Indignation

2007-06-02T16:40:00.000+03:00

Before you start, let me first apologise for writing yet another “It’s been two years and…” or, “Now that I’m getting ready to leave Bulgaria…” themed post. What can I say? It’s where I am right now.

I know I’ve said it before, maybe a few times, but coming to the end of my PC service brings to my mind many questions, specifically about fitting into the spaces where I once before fit. I am beginning to realize that perhaps it was never a proper fit. Maybe those spaces were like clothes: I found a “shirt” I really liked, but it wasn’t quite my size. I squeezed into it, and I pretended it was just right for me, but it wasn’t exactly my size. I think this was my life before, my ideologies, policies, politics, life. I never really questioned the size of my shirt. I simply put it on and wore it. Sometimes you just don’t want to shop, so you find the cheapest store and buy the first thing you can see yourself in. Sometimes you shop in someone else’s favorite store. The fact is that you’ve got to go into every store you can imagine and at least look at what is out there.

Ignorance is a heavy weight which sometimes seems light and easy.

Let’s be honest. I’m going to go home. I’m going to move into my parents’ house. I won’t have a car. I will have no money or job. I have no friendships in town left to speak of. I am quite nervous about going back to my church. My personal theology hasn’t so much changed, but my global theology has. I don’t know if that is a real term, global theology.

My notion of what is God’s absolute truth has definitely and permanently changed. I don’t believe in the same black and white which I once believed.

Imagine God. What color is He? You imagine Him in a color which is on the spectrum. You imagine Him in a color of which you can conceive. What if there are other colors which He has kept hidden from us and He is one of those colors? Like this, I believe is His Truth. Who am I to claim that I understand It?

I don’t think that this kind of theology will be will received at my church.

I’ve done some growing up too. I’m better at asserting myself. I’m better at being alone. I’m less tolerant of lip service. I’m more indignant toward injustice. This is a lethal combination in my southern churchy culture.

I love the South. I love living in the South. But here’s the truth from my eyes. The South, particularly the “church culture” is so two-faced. Sweet in her antipathy. Biting your back with a smile. Godly in every way Jesus was not. I do not relish the idea of being subjected to a culture where I cannot trust people. I want to be around people who seek to understand what is real and what really needs to be DONE. I want to be around people who will not think twice about what must be said. I am so tired and value the moments of my life too much to worry about to whom to pay what lip service. Who will behave most in my favor if I pour honey on my words? Who will I look best standing next to?

There isn’t enough time in the world.

"maegen" means...

2007-05-23T20:57:00.001+03:00

When I was in college I had a class in old English literature and of course, one of the texts was Beowulf. For the reading I had a bilingual English-Old English side by side version. I noticed a word in the Old-English verison which looked like my name, "maegen" which was translated as "strong."

Here at An Anglo-Saxon Heathon Wedding, "maegen" is described as a spiritual luck or power

However, the description at Northern Tradition Shamanism is much more interesting. "Maegen" is described as a type of honor that you can earn and lose for sticking to your commitments and your word.

"Those with strong maegen will be instinctively trusted more by those who sense it. It's more than just reputation, it's an actual force attached to the soul that can be felt and used."

Now, I'm not trying to get all weird pagan on you. But names are important. I've been in a country for two years where nearly everyone celebrates their "name day" or the day that is the feast of the saint for whom they are named. Some people don't exactly have saint names, but are named after a month, or a flower, which have their own celebration. Names also carry meaning, like "thankful" or "blessed." So I guess I'm just trying to recognize that very important part of who I am. It's my name, my ultimate label.

North of Ithaka

2007-05-16T19:44:00.000+03:00

When I pick out books, I generally choose them based on their covers, unless of course I know what I'm looking for. So when I go to the Peace Corps office in Sofia ans shuffle through the stacks of books PCVs did not deem worthy taking home with them. I recently picked up a hard cover (something I generally avoid, since I'm usually burdened with enough meds and paper work and travelling supplies when I hit up our little library) with a bright, ethnic looking frame around the covers. North of Ithaka, by Eleni Gage. It's a decent read about a woman who goes to the village in Northern Greece from which her father escaped and in which her grandmother was executed. She returns to oversee the rebuilding of the family home. In the book she describes her insights into Greek culture, the random chaos that can ensue in remote village life, and the process of her integration into the community, as well as her de-integration.

I'm not finished with it yet, but I've found it while not spell binding, very interesting. I'm sorry if I offend any Bulgarian readers, but there are some distinct similarities between the culture she describes and the Bulgarian culture I have encountered. This part of Greece was also under Turkish rule and then run by the communists, like Bulgaria. What's more striking is the similarity of the process.

A woman goes far away, alone. She lives in a small town, alone. She learns about the culture, habits, and lifestyles. She becomes a part of the place. She completes her mission and return to life.

There are two small bits of the book that struck me deeply.
"To love a place
is to feel for it, to let it wound you so it leaves a scar, a permanent
keepsake."

"I didn't know when I'd be back, and I worried that the
people I know and loved would forget I had ever lived in Lia."

These days, years, tears, experiences have become so deeply apart of who I am and they will always be with me. They have shaped the frame of my soul and have redirected the path of my destiny. I must come to terms with the fact that if I come back to visit in two years time, life will have gone on for my friends. They have meant more to me than I have to them.

My dearest colleague and friend, Yulia, and I are going to be presenting some bits of each other's culture on our 24th of May celebration. The 24th of May is the day celebrating the saints Kiril and Metodi, the founders of the the Cyrilic alphabet. This is the biggest day in the world of Bulgarian education. I will be reciting a Bulgarian poem, "Аз съм Българче" or translated, "I am Bulgarian" but the diminutive form of the word Bulgarian, as if the speaker is a child. I should also prepare a bit of a speech in Bulgarian for the occasion. Where to start. I've started several times, in English and Bulgarian.

Не'м думи.

I have one of these too

2007-05-14T22:16:00.000+03:00

Alright, I have a totally cute brother too. He will not be coming to visit me. Sadly. But he's done lots of visiting himself. He's visiting California right now learning how to do something... I'm not sure what exactly, but it has to do with loving the outdoors, being a leader, helping others to be leaders, and loving God. If you've heard of Youth With a Mission, and/or SOAR maybe you know more. If you're on board with him on any of those things, or just want to find out where he is in this amazing pic, I can hook that up.

So yeah.

other news? I was in Stara Zagora for the coolest eighty's party EVER. I'd post a pic but I haven't got any. Jessie. It's spring in my valley which means I'm constantly fighting something. There is at this moment a bug crawling up my wall. Uh, I hate those things. Not a roach though, so I can deal. Anyway, I have a nasty throat thing, of course.

super cute!

2007-05-03T15:02:00.000+03:00

this is my super cute kid sister, elayna! she'll be here on June 22. can you believe we haven't seen each other in TWO years?!

i can't wait! eeeeeee (happy sound)

i stress less

2007-05-02T17:03:00.000+03:00

Honestly, what will become of me?
Don’t like reality
Its way to clear to me
But really, life is daily
We are what we don’t see,
Missed everything daydreaming.
Flames to dust,
Lovers to friends,
Why do all good things come to an end?
Travelling I only stop at exits
Wondering if I’ll stay
Young and restless
Living this way I stress less
I want to pull away when the dream dies
The pain sets in and I don’t cry
I only feel gravity and I wonder why

-From “All Good Things” by Nelly Furtado

A few of my friends got together last night in Sofia to celebrate… one just returned from the states, one had a birthday, and another is finishing his service this week.

Walking home from the bus station today I felt a deep sense of sadness. Nostalgia for my life as it is now. I know that in fifty years time I will tell my grandchildren, дай Боже, that these were the best days of my life. Of course they haven’t been perfect, but oh they have. This is living. Perfectly alive.

When we parted ways today, it was difficult. Each time I give a goodbye hug, I have to take a mental inventory of my calendar for the next few months and work out if I’ll see him or her again. It will break my heart to leave these friendships.

I’m not so terribly naïve to believe that we’ll all keep in touch online as we do now. We will resume our lives in our respective states. We’ll go back to our friendships, start some new ones, and pursue our careers and academic pursuits. At best, we’ll Myspace each other for a few years. We’ll keep in touch like that – commenting on each other’s spaces – until our lives get too bogged down with life, or until the comments and pictures and information seems too foreign to be that person we remember and we realize we no longer know each other.

But we’ll always have these memories.

I was never a big fan of high school. And college was not a social experience for me. This must be how other people feel when they graduate high school, except I have the very real awareness that I will not always be friends with these people.

My counter part is my best friend here. She has helped me out of more situations than any friend should ever have to. She has given a tremendous piece of her life to me, as many counterparts do. She’s seen me through some of the stupidest, silliest, and most humiliating moments of my life, and she continues to invite me along, help me out, and most importantly trust me. Of all the people in my Peace Corps life, I simply cannot imagine my life with out her. And in just a few months my life will be very much with out her.

I am petrified about returning. I have no concept of how my life will be. There are so many experiences that have changed who I am which may cause difficulties in my fitting into the spaces I used to fit before. I am keenly aware of the deficiency of my friendships at home. Bulgaria has taught me some enormous lessons on friendship. I have had to fight to keep a friendship when it would be easier to let it dissolve. I have swallowed my pride to maintain a friendship. I have been more honest, more reflective, more helped, more involved. I have been less judgmental, less judged, less pretentious, less selfish, and less insecure. I have cried more and danced more. I have shared more and eaten more. I have never had such an abundance of friendship in America and I am afraid beyond belief that I never will again. Peace Corps puts all these random people in very similar situations and for this reason alone, I have met an incredibly diverse group of people. I’ve made friends I never would have made normally and am so glad of it!

How do I reconcile these feelings of happiness about going home and this sadness about leaving this life? I reckon this is an example of the dynamic that makes life worth living. Static is boring and useless. There is no pleasure with out pain.

Something else I just wanted to gripe about: I love Myspace, as you may be able to tell from all the previous references. But I have seen some spaces that make me ill. I see some spaces from people I used to be friends with in whatever previous era of my life and I just feel grrr toward them. It seems as if they are using one idea to fill up all the nothing in their lives. There are a couple of folks' spaces I've happened upon, who aren't actually my "friends," who blab all kinds of God talk all over their space. It's overwhelming. I'm a Christian (whatever that means... christian church, christian music, christian recording label, christian store, christian tee shirt, christian coffee mug, christian door mat), but I just don't understand.

From a psychoanalytical point of view, mine that is, which is the best of all armchair psychologists' points of view, I would have to question if these folks are not compensating for an insecurity. Right, like confident people don't have to tell people they are confident. What would you think of a person who all the time told people he was happy. Why do you have to shout about it all the time? Just be it!

Maybe that is the - a - problem with Christianity. We've lost the meaning of what it is so we run around shouting that we are one. We don't know how to identify ourselves with this idea in any better way than to draw it all over our spaces. But saying I'm a Christian doesn't make me one any more than my saying my hair is red makes me a red head.

I am a brounette, btw.

I'll leave it at that. I will not venture on the very hefty topic of what really is christianity. ... today

nonblog

2007-04-16T21:33:00.000+03:00

It’s been alleged that my blog should be updated. Yeah. I reckon that’s about right. Thing is, I really haven’t had anything to write about lately.

I suppose I should be thinking about tying up my last days in country. These are the last moments and I should treasure and fill each last one of them up with the joy that is intrinsically tied with that moment merely because of its beauty as a moment.

Right?

See, the problem is this: I’m checked out. I’m phased out. I’m already at the airport waiting for my sissy to get here so we can play and travel and get to know each other again. I’m sitting at home on a Saturday morning watching the news. In English. I’m taking my puppy for a walk. I’m going out with friends and understanding the punchlines of their jokes.

Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m still having fun here. Perhaps more fun than ever. But maybe, because I don’t feel like my social life is no longer a struggle, in some sense, I feel like I’m ready to go home. I don’t know if that makes any sense at all. When it gets easy, then you know you’re read to move on. Not that Bulgaria has really gotten easy for me, but some things definitely have. The things that are the essence of what I will forever remember about my service in Bulgaria are smoother.

In other news, spring is here, although not today. Today is a very ugly day, but the weekend was beyond beautiful.

Sorry, I really have nothing to write about…

but here are some pics i've taken recently

oh for pete's sake. i have a lot of pics i'd love to upload for your enjoyment. but my computer/connection is beyond ghetto slow. these are from Kurdjali. That lil'bit next to me is the best thing that Bulgaria's ever dealt me, and by that i mean my counterpart (pc speak for colleague #1). and the other is a painting at a Church there. this is Neofit Rilski. a miracle worker and the namesake of the most famous Monastery in Bulgaria - Rila Monastery. ill try again some other time. did i ever post pics from greece? they might be on my flickr. just search for me there.

for curiosity's sake

2007-03-14T20:52:00.000+02:00

Hasarder, in her comment to my last post, asked what I was referring to regarding how Paul was accommodating to both Jews and "heathens."

Short answer: These are the books of the Bible which are generally accepted as penned by Paul. Romans, 1 & 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Philippians, 1 Thessalonians, Philemon. Ephesians, Colossians, 2 Thessalonians, 1 & 2 Timothy, Titus (this second group are not quite as accepted). Check out the wikipedia articles on Paul or Tarsus.

I'm not exegetical wiz, but I'll break it down the way I understand it. This is the lonnnnnnggg answer.

Jesus grew up and preached. He preached about love. The way I understand the theme, if we can say that, of Jesus' preaching is that he wanted people, Jews, to worry less about the legalism of the Law and more about the genuineness and holiness of their heart and spirit. To stop missing the forest for the trees, if you will. The fact is, Jesus preached to Jews because of his immense desire to motivate them to be better and Godlier Jews. Jesus didn't preach to initiate the Christian Church.

But it happened. Jesus preached in a very small area. Paul (and others) took that message beyond the local. Paul made it to what is now Turkey and Greece. Here there were fewer Jews. Paul's writings in the Bible, which are mostly letters to churches in Greece and Turkey, deal with the question: "what about the gentiles who want to follow Jesus?"

These gentiles, non-Jews, were not followers of the Laws - the laws of Moses. So if they decide to follow Jesus, should they eat kosher, keep the Sabbath, get circumcised?

It turned out, a bunch of those guys that new Jesus, and some that didn't know him (like Paul), decided that the "God fearing gentiles," and Christ followers should not be required to be circumcised. Was this a political move in order to increase the ranks (would you get circumcised as an adult for religion?)? The decision to not require circumcision, and other decisions were then a modern interpretation of the Laws and the teachings of Jesus. This is a process of binding and loosing, forbidding and allowing certain behaviors based on the wisdom of a rabbi. Problem! The rabbis refused to acknowledge Jesus, so this new group had to start making these big decisions. This is what brings us to "the council of Jerusalem," or that meeting with all those guys who knew Jesus.

So after these guys got together and made these interpretive decisions, Paul went his own way and did all that preaching and writing in Greece and Turkey. These epistles, or letters, make up a huge chunk of the New Testament. They have become the foundation for Christianity.

Some of the accommodating things attributed to Paul:

"For since I am free from all I can make myself a slave to all, in order to gain even more people. To the Jews I became a Jew to gain the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) to gain those under the law. To those free from the law I became like one free from the law (though I am not free from God's law but under the law of Christ) to gain those free from the law. To the weak I became weak in order to gain the weak. I have become all things to all people, so that by all means I may save some."
--1 Corinthians 9:19-22 (emphasis is mine)

These was a question of eating. If I as a Law-abiding Christ-follower am invited to eat at the home of an "unbeliever," should I eat their food, which may not be properly prepared and blessed, or may *gasp* be blessed unto demons? Here's what Paul says, in his incredibly liberal wisdom for the time:
"'Everything is lawful,' but not everything is beneficial. 'Everything is lawful' but not everything builds others up. Do not seek your own good, but the good of the other person. Eat anything that is sold in the marketplace without questions of conscience, for the earth and its abundance are the Lord's (from Psalm 24:1). If an unbeliever invites you to dinner and you want to go, eat whatever is served without asking questions of conscience... So whether you eat or drink, whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God. Do not give offense to the Jews or Greeks, or to the church of God.
--1 Corinthians 10:23-28, 32 (emphasis is mine)

Here's another I adore: in 1 Corinthians 13, Paul addresses the falseness of religion and gives a working definition of love.
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but I do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal... If I give away everything I own, and if I give over my body in order to boast, but do not have love, I receive no benefit. Love is patient, love is kind, it is not envious. Love does not brag, it is not puffed up. It is not rude, it is not self-serving, it is not easily angered or resentful. It is not glad about injustice, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends."
--1 Corinthians 13:1, 3-8.

With these few tidbits in mind, I can safely say that Paul paved new ground in religion. He was persecuted for it, of course. But what he had to say is the alleged foundation of modern Christianity. We've built our theology on his words. But we've not built our lives around it. Paul preached that we do not have to live under the Hebraic laws because we can live under the laws of Christ, and he gave us his interpretation of those laws. What I see the modern church doing today is a very dangerous binding and loosing. We are totally into the "not under the law" bit, as long as we are 'born again.' But if you aren't a card carrying Evangelical, then you are under our laws to a degree we will not submit ourselves unto. Scary, since Jesus said in Matthew 3:16, "whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." And what about all that love stuff? We're just going to chuck it because it's not convenient? not quite as pressing?

My point in all this history and layman's extrapolation is that we simply cannot stop changing. Only when the world stops being the world, constantly changing and growing, can we as Christians stop changing. We have some words, and some more words. But most of what we have in the Bible is the inspired interpretation of a bunch of really Godly people. Really Godly people still exist and they can still interpret the Words we have. This is the only way to keep the Church relevant. Let's keep binding and loosing for ourselves first before we worry about those with no interest in our 'yoke.'

blablabla...

The global warming "debate"

2007-03-09T14:07:00.000+02:00

I'm sorry, I didn't realize global warming was still a debate. I thought it was a fact. The debate is who should do what to reduce the rate of warming.

I'm also sorry to inform the religious right that I am capable of worrying about more issues than abortion, gay rights, and sex ed. Poverty, global warming, AIDS.

Here's the background... Some folks, including Dr. James Dobson, wrote a letter to Dr. Roy Taylor, the chairman of the board at the National Association of Evangelicals. In this letter these folks express their concern about the vice president of government relations at NAE, Richard Cizik. Their main claim in this letter is that Cizik, as he expresses his views, is understood to be speaking for the NAE, which then represents the voices of Evangelicals in general. The problem with this, according to Dobson, et al is that the NAE "lacks the expertise to take a position on global warming." Although "it does appear that the earth is warming," Dobson et al suggest that the NEA should not be addressed theologically, since it is a "dividing and demoralizing" issue. Finally, the writers call for the resignation of Cizik if he cannot refrain from this demoralization and work to represent the NAE's commitmentment to defend "traditional values."

I have a couple of very basic arguments.
First, raising awareness of new issues does not have to be a distraction. Perhaps, and my rightest friends forgive me, but just perhaps, focusing only on what marriage is, not teaching young people how to use condoms, and arguing over why and when and who should have an abortion is actually the distraction. Is it possible that these micro-issues are narrowing the spectrum of relevancy of modern christianity. In no uncertain terms, these issues distract the secular (or, in church-speak, the 'unchurched') from the love of Christ. All they see is the hate, bigotry, self-rightousness, and uselessness of today's church. Don't insult me by assuming that I cannot occupy myself with more issues than you care to worry over yourself. Perhaps you, religious right, are worried that someone might think I care more.

Secondly, it is an insult to God to not be good and efficient stewards of the earth. Can we not honor what we are given? Fine, it is not a theological issue, but as Christians we should care for creation. The gluttonous rape of our lands is easy and easy to ignore. But being wise consumers and preservationists of our world is one of the many ways we as humans can share in the nature of God. God called the earth, the trees, flowers, animals, water, and air on it good. It is unGodly to waste them. If there are proven methods of less wasteful consumption of these goods, then we should be made more aware of them and encouraged to participate in them. The left encourages us to do this for the sake of the planet. The right should likewise encourage this participation, but for a greater reason, in order to honor God and his love of creation and all that is in it.

Thirdly, I'm so tired of this idea that to distract from mainstream Christianity is somehow unChristian. Puhlease. I can't form any better argument. PUHLEASE! Asking for Cizik's resignation because he is doing something "divisive" is like asking for Jesus' resignation because he was being divisive from then modern Judaism. It's like asking for Paul's resignation because he sought to accomodate the Jews and the "heathen." Forgive my extreme similes, but I hope you get my point. This extremism that Dobson & Co. are demonstrating is more like the farsical works of Michael Moore than the loving example of Jesus.

And that's all I've got to say.

However, if you're interested in paying attention to this debate, and what the big guys have to say, like Jim Wallis, one of the ring leaders of the "red letter" movement, check out this blog!

"get on over to the other side!"

2007-02-11T20:26:00.000+02:00

Can you tell me, what does it mean to “get over” something?

I just watched a rather cliché film about soldiers returning to Iraq. But it moved me intensely because it asks the question, “how?”

When nothing seems right, and everything seems backward, we find ourselves first asking why. Why did it happen? Why him? Why me? Why now? Then we ask how.

Some people ask, “How do I get through this?”

Others ask, “How do I get over this?”

Can you tell me, is there a difference? What is it?

Perhaps you aren’t interested in the minuscule details of the sentence. But to me words are life. Words are logic. Logic is reason. Reason is what makes us human. Reason and logic is why we are higher life forms. Reason is the image of God in us.

In this film I watched, several soldiers came back from Iraq to the same small town. One came back in a coffin. One came back with out her hand. One came to find himself replaced at work. One guy’s girlfriend wouldn’t speak to him. And one came back to a son who hated him.

They were all expected to get over what they had experienced.

So they each dealt in their own unique ways. Stop trusting. Develop an alcohol problem. Become exceedingly violent, take some people hostage and get yourself killed. Go back to war.

Some people got over and some people got through.

So, what is the difference?

You have been walking for miles. Days. You have been walking in a dark forest with perils worse than those of your nightmares. The pain in all of your limbs is so intense that your body has entered a state of shock in which the pain is now a throbbing numbness, like your reasoning skills.

You find yourself at a river.

The river marks the end of the forest and on the other side is a place stunningly similar to the place you once called home.

The river, however, is wildly dangerous. Rapids. Boulders. It is at the bottom of a deep ravine.

You look to the north and notice a deer trail. You could attempt to descend into the ravine on the deer trail.

You look to the south and realize there is a brand new bridge crossing the river ravine.

What do you do? While risking your life on the trail and then crossing the river does sound noble, it would be exceedingly stupid considering there is a perfectly safe bridge. So you cross the bridge and return to the place resembling home.

You made it through the forest. The forest left its mark on you. It scarred you. It might have ripped parts of you to shreds. But you made it through and are changed because of the experience. You have wisdom and warnings to share with others. You have become stronger and more confident. You now know how to handle forests.

You simply got over the river. You did not drink of its waters or face its threats. The river left no mark on you and you left no mark on it. You avoided it and are ignorant of what lies within it.

When you get through, you learn and grow.

When you get over, you simply avoid.

I will not, with respect for myself, my God given responsibility to increase in wisdom, and for the lessons to be learned, simply “get over” anything which holds within it any potential for positive, no matter how difficult that positive is.

And with respect to other people, I will not ask or expect them to simply get over their crisis. I will challenge them to face the demons of their forests and to search for the lessons and the increase.

This is life. Every day, every moment is an experience for us to tackle and get through. It is not a bridge to the next better moment. Life can be a series of answers to questions which create more questions; always adding wisdom and curiosity and unquenchable thirst for truth and meaning. Or, life can be a series of bridges which consistently avoid the pain and the beauty Creation holds within it.

Will you get over or will you get through? Will you expect your neighbor to get over, or will you help him to get through?

God speed, little man

2007-02-06T20:07:00.000+02:00

Mom asked me to write a letter to Erik's supporters explaining why he might be having a tough time, with the tragic news he's recently recieved, in addition to the difficulties of being away from home. Maybe you'd like to read it too...

Being out of your comfort zone can be traumatic. If you do not have a proper support system for traumatic events, they will scar you rather than help you to grow stronger. In our daily lives there are plenty of uncomfortable experiences. We each have "issues" that we face, and as we do, we make the decision to continue in comfort or try to grow through and above that issue. Sometimes we face conflicts that require us to chose between our passion and our comfort. Let's just be honest and admit that we usually choose our comfort; it's more natural. Some of us, however, attempt to be faithful to our God-inspired passions and trust that He will see us through what ever discomforts come along. Erik chose to go with his passion... He's in a very uncomfortable place now.

Just over 24 months ago I left America and joined the US Peace Corps. I now teach English in a small town in south eastern Bulgaria. If you haven't experienced life in a foreign country that is below the level of "developed," I can tell you something about it. I can't tell you what Kyrgyzstan is like, but you can assume that what Bulgaria or Romania is like, is intensified dramatically in the Asian countries of the former soviet block.

Any time you leave your culture, whether that place is developed or not, you must face a new and unknown culture. A development worker (and missionaries should be in the business of development on many levels) is required to attempt to understand and integrate into this culture. This assaults you on so many different levels. Your ideas of right and wrong are challenged. Is it Right? or is it just different? Everything you know to be familiar is gone, from food to sanitation. Etiquette, public and private; communication, group dynamics, ethical and moral standards, unspoken codes of behavior... And at the end of the day you just want a hug or a chocolate bar. Or mom's pot roast, or apple pie, or your favorite fast food take out. The effective development worker realizes these differences and is forced to analyze them, decide which they cannot participate in (for me, it's blatant cheating and race-bashing), and more importantly, how to delicately and respectfully show their own values with out losing the respect of the host culture. In my 24 months, I've learned a tremendous amount about the culture I'm in. I respect it. Parts of it I adore. Parts of it I detest. Every day I learn something new. And every day that I challenge myself is exhausting. Some days I choose to be comfortable though. I have the luxury of a TV, Internet, and a "supermarket" (that means three isles and two checkout counters, rather than shouting my order at the one lady behind the counter). I can stay in, stay warm, and stay safe. All Saturday, I can stay in my pjs if I please.

But what about when crisis strikes? For us in our safe places, we turn to our support system. That probably includes your friends, family, your faith, and your church. Some of us have some unhealthy things we do such as over eating, watching TV, or alcohol and/ or drugs. There are of course some healthy distractions, like music, exercise, socializing, and pets. But what about when those support systems are not available? I can tell you that first, everything seems so much bigger than it really is, unless you push it off to the side and don't handle it at all. Second, daily life becomes more of a chore and less than a great experience full of potential. You are merely dealing and managing- floating in a cocoon you create to make a safe place. Third, healing takes much longer. It's like trying to cure a wound with out Neosporin. It'll heal on its own, but not as quickly and not as cleanly.

Erik found out recently, as many of you know, that Eric Falk and Emmy Scott were killed in a car accident. Pastor Falk was not only a pastor and mentor to Erik, but a good friend and camping buddy. Another problem of being far-flung, is that frequently communication is sketchy. So Erik ended up finding out about this tragedy through a church mass email, rather than through a face or even a voice. Now, with nearly two weeks left in their service, Erik must face every day with the challenges this foreign culture, climate, language and people present, but with the grief of losing a good friend. In development work, every next day holds more potential than the one before. Your skills are greater, your contacts have increased, the host community has developed more trust and respect for you. This makes that last leg of the period, whether it's 9 months or 9 days, the most valuable for everyone who has invested in that development. Unfortunately, it is naturally a very difficult period where most people develop an exhaustion or "senior-itis" syndrome. Can you imagine adding to that the grief of losing a good friend and mentor?

We need to pray that Erik can stay strong and encouraging. He needs your prayers to be the leader and comforter that God has created him to be. There is a lot of development left to be done by that team and Erik, through his grief, frustration, and exhaustion must find a way to do the work of God there.

here i am..

2007-02-05T13:42:00.000+02:00

i walked out on a class today. i think i've done this three times now. with all that has happened, i could not bring myself to fight with my students to participate. i simply didn't have it in me. as i stood there, these words ran through my head: "my brother is in a foreign land, possibly not aware that his good friend is dead. these *$@! don't even want me here, yet here i am when i should be with my family and friends. with my brother." so i gathered my things, said, "teach yourselves english," and walked out. i went to the teachers' bathroom and sobbed on the floor. it just doesn't seem right.

My mom and sister went to the visitation yesterday. When they greeted the wife of the deceased, she asked how our Erik is doing. I imagine she was mildly surprised not to see him there. My mom looked at her and said, "Erik doesn't know." According to mom, Amanda nearly fell to her knees in shock and anguish. She wept for my brother. Then she prayed that he would be comforted with God's peace.

The human spirit amazes me. This woman has lost her young husband and she mourns for a young boy's loss. She mourns not only for herself, but for each person who mourns with her. This is how we are a part of the whole. This is how we are not an island. This is the oneness of humanity.

it's just enough to see a shooting star to know you're really never far...

2007-02-04T17:46:00.000+02:00

I never really realized how close my family is. It is trite, but distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Do you ever feel like there’s somewhere else you should be, but that you should also be where you are? You are torn between to places, people, and/or situations. PC Bulgaria has been amazing and I would not trade it for anything! But sometimes I felt the most miserable guilt for being here.

My brother graduated high school.
My mom had her ankle reconstructed and was disabled for over three months.
My sister’s good friend died in a car accident.
My best friend’s brother died.
My mom had a tumor scare resulting in a complete hysterectomy.
Two members of our church including a friend to my sister and brother, and a mentor, friend, and guide to my brother were killed in a car accident.

I didn’t realize how much I adore my family until I sob in pain for their loss, not my own. That Eric and Emmy were killed is sad to me in a humanitarian way. “No man is an island entire of its self; every man is a part of the continent, a part of the main. Any man’s death diminishes me because I’m involved in mankind… Ask not for whom the bell tolls… It tolls for thee. Humanity, Christianity, Nashville, Christ Church suffered a great loss that day. It is my brother’s pain that doubles me over in grief. It is knowing that my darling, smiling, cheery boy will grow weak in his knees; his shoulders will shrug in; his chin and lip will tremble as he tries to understand the details. He will go to a quiet place to be alone and cry to the God who he cannot understand. He will want to be alone and untouched for a while. He will come out of the quiet place and want to be with people. He will look to those he is with for hugs, comfort, sympathy, and understanding. It breaks my heart that I won’t be there, more than anything, I wish I were with him, or at least that he were home.

But this is part of growing up, part of life. We learn how to cope, to mourn, to deal, and to move on. Some of us suffer more and earlier. I’ve been so blessed. I’ve never had a close friend or immediate family member die an untimely death.

When I mentioned to my mother that I feel like I’ve missed so much in these two years, she said that Erik and Elayna have been through more in these two years than most kids their age. I can only pray that these losses will help them to grow into better and stronger people.

I sit here in my warm room and cry out asking why. Feeling like a great Wrong is being committed. Of course, I have the faith to say that God works all things for the glory of those that love him. Of course, I believe that in everything there is meaning and Purpose. That doesn’t make it hurt less.

I picked up a book from a friend today called, “We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families” by Phillip Gourevitch. It’s a book of stories about the genocide in Rwanda. I read a few pages in an attempt to distract myself from my own sadness. We cry for our immediate losses, as we should; but why can the world not cry out for the crimes against humanity? An untimely death is tragic. The untimely death of one million souls in a period of 100 days is more than tragic. It’s inconceivable. It’s unimaginable. You can imagine your mother dying and the pain you would feel. Can you even begin to empathize with a person who has lost everyone they know? Maybe everyone (of that ethnic or religious group) they have ever known? This is the answer to the question, “Miss, why must we read these disgusting things?” my students ask as we learn about Rwanda. Wouldn’t you want some one to know? Wouldn’t you want some one to care?

I’m sorry these thoughts are so rambled and inornate. Thanks for reading anyway.

It tolls for thee

2007-02-04T16:29:00.000+02:00

There are so many words, themes, ideas, groanings of my spirit that I want to pour out into words. Love. Love of God. Love of Family. Guilt. Pride. Sorrow. Loss. Where does one begin?

My brother is in Kyrgastan with YWAM. He’s got another two weeks or so before he completes his service there. He’s there because he’s had leaders and mentors who have encouraged him to live beyond himself, to dare, to try, to be bold, and to always have faith. When Erik, my brother, started attending Christ Church Nashville, he was a senior in high school. He became involved in the young adult ministry, which was pastored by Eric Falk. That winter Eric Falk took a group of young people to Texas for the World Mandate Conference, a convention for world missions. Our Erik came back on fire for world missions.

Last summer, Eric Falk and a group of people from our church went to Israel. Erik joined them on that trip. Eric baptised Erik in the Jordan River

Eric Falk, since then was moved to the position of Missions Pastor. He was integral in getting my brother to Kyrgastan, helping him to raise funds and supporting him spiritually as a mentor, leader, and brother.

This winter, actually, just a few days ago, Eric Falk took a group of young people including Emmy Scott, a friend of my brother and sister and active leader in young adult and youth programming, again to the World Mandate Conference in Texas. They lost control of the van and collided with a tractor-trailer. Eric and Emmy were killed.

A twenty-six year old woman became a widow.

Loving parents lost a daughter.

A church lost two faithful leaders and servants.

What hurts me the most? My siblings lost friends and I can do nothing.

My brother is supposed to return in a couple weeks. YWAM is supposed to have contacted him shared this tragic news with him. We have no idea if our Erik knows of this loss. It will take a genuine miracle for him to get back to Nashville in time for the service on Tuesday. Miracles happen.

Parents knew the miracle of the love for a child.
A woman knew the miracle of the love for her husband.
A church knew the miracle of the love for a servant to its Master.

she's never gonna fly to the top of the world... right now...

2007-01-14T21:46:00.000+02:00

For a combination of reasons including hormones, tiredness, and not the least, PC "senioritis" I'm feeling a bit homesick. I don't know why, but I really miss my family. I guess it's natural. But my brother has really been on my mind. Maybe it's just that I know he is so very far from home, and while I know it is difficult for him, from everything I can gather (from newsletters) he seems to be very active and integral in his group and in the community he's in.

Jared and Erik left yesterday morning for two weeks. They are going
with our friend Sakoo (the guy excited about outdoor adventure and community
development) to a village for a week, then to Bishkek. Erik finds it
pretty humorous that the first time he's going hunting will be in KG. Our
team doesn't seem complete without them, and we look forward to their return but
we're also excited for this opportunity.

I chatted with Erik after he got back from this little excursion and found out that they went hunting and snow boarding. In the mountains of Kyrgastan. Amazing.

Maybe it's the overbearing, second-mother figure in me, or maybe this is what siblings should be like, or maybe I'm just excessively emotional, but these kids make me proud to tears. I can't wait to see what the next few years hold for our quirky kid sister...

God bless mommy and match box cars
God bless dad and thanks for the stars
God hears "Amen," wherever we are
And I love you

Godspeed, little man
Sweet dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings
Godspeed
Godspeed
Godspeed
Sweet dreams

From "Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)" performed by the Dixie Chicks, written by Radney Foster

"We live in our secure surroundings, and people die out there"

2007-01-10T17:53:00.000+02:00

Most of us PCVs have at some point laughed about the giant tumors that many Bulgarians seem to have on their necks or faces. You see these big tumors and wonder what kind of abnormalities they might have in covered places or inside their bodies.

I met this older Bulgarian man who was so very friendly. He told me all about his family and his past. He told me that he had a son who had died of cancer when he was in his teens. He told me that many people died of cancer during those years from Chernobyl.

Is it possible that the high precedence of tumors and cancers are connected to the toxins spread 20 years ago? How many people across the former soviet block have gotten cancer as a result of the disaster at Chernobyl? Across Europe?

My friend Sarah is an English teacher in the Ukraine. She's told not to drink the water under any circumstances.

My mom has a good friend who moved to the Nashville area from Sarajevo, BiH (Bosnia and Herzegovina). When we where there, we visited her brother and sister-in-law. They had recently had a beautiful set of twins, after a very difficult pregnancy and an early delivery. My mom visited her friend recently and received very bad news. The sister-in-law, Ivana, has a baseball sized tumor on her rib. Mom's friend informed her that in BiH many babies get cancer, and of a baby who was born with cervical cancer.

Cancer every where, under any circumstances is devastating and disgusting. We wonder at the strength and courage of survivors. In America, and most of the developed world, we are so fortunate to have access to advanced medical technologies with which to fight these heart breaking and deadly struggles. But in countries only remotely developed, like those in Eastern Europe, not only do the not have the medical access to fight cancer as well, but they are not as well equiped to detect these ailments early and to fight it quickly, which we know is essential in the defeat against cancer.

What to me is especially sad, is that these people have so many other things in their lives to worry about. Many of you will never know how easy your life really is. If your greatest concern is the raise of gas prices, I won't feel sorry for you. Until you've had to get up at 4am to stand three hours in a bread line, until you spend your summer preparing for winter, until your family of four lives out of two rooms for six long months of winter, until your salary covers nothing more than your electricity bills, until your retirement payment is less than one meal at Cracker Barrel, I will not feel sorry for you.

Here's the sad part, I am aware of how very fortunate Eastern Europeans are compared to people in many other parts of the world. Central Asia is much worse off than here, and most of Africa is even farther behind.

I don't know why my rant against cancer led me to rant on world awareness... sorry

If you pray, please pray that this family doesn't lose a sister, wife, and daughter, and that those precious twins don't lose their mamo. And if you don't pray, find something you can do to help people less fortunate than yourself. And don't forget about the Bulgarian nurses and Palestinian doctor in Libya facing death for what is widely accepted as Gaddafi's scapegoat. Thank God, most of the nurses have family members who have recently received visas to visit them. Petition! Call your congressman! See what Amnesty International is doing! See if you can help save these people from dying at the hands of an unjust court. Please.

I would like to state my vision,

Life was so unfair.

We live in our secure surroundings,

And people die out there.

Bosnia was so unkind.

Sarajevo changed my mind.

And we all call out in despair.

All the love we need isn't there.

And we all sing songs in our room.

Sarajevo erects another doom.

Sarajevo, Sarajevo, Sarajevo, Sarajevo.

Bosnia was so unkind.

Sarajevo, Sarajevo, Saraje-

Bosnia was so unkind.

Sure things would change if we really wanted them to.

No fear for children anymore.

There are babies in their beds,

Terror in their heads,

Love for the love of life.

When do the saints go marching in? [X4]

Walk on tip toe...

"Bosnia" The Cranberries

With love to Kyrgistan

2007-01-09T20:16:00.000+02:00

I chatted with my brother online the other night. He sounded a little bit down. I'm sure it's been difficult for him to be so far from home through the holidays. It was nice to hear him say that he missed me and to say some words that I knew he needed to hear. Sometimes people need to hear what they know, but circumstances have caused them to doubt. Somehow telling my ever smiling, always idealistic, optimistic, loving, endearingly clumsy, darling, huggable, kissable kid brother that the people around him need him and have surely come to depend on his cheery disposition and tall and dependable shoulder somehow made me feel better. But boy, it sure did make me remember why I miss him.

I have a sister too. I love her to pieces. She's eight years younger than me. I think she's a precious young lady. There's a big age gap between us. By the time I left, my brother had begun developing "grown up" opinions on issues. We had finally gotten to the point where we could discuss hot topics, deep issues, news, opinions. I miss his fiery, idealized perspective. With my sister however, when I left for Bulgaria, she really hadn't developed into her personality. There really wasn't much we could talk about except how funny Arrested Development is, or quote lines from Napoleon Dynomite to each other.

We're planning on her coming out here in June and seeing some of Europe together. I can't wait to have some quality time to get to know the young lady my sister has become over the next to years, to discover those qualities that she's grown into.

Can I get a plate of meat?

2007-01-07T19:08:00.000+02:00

It is so difficult for me to believe that the last month has flown past.

After Thanksgiving, things at school kicked into high gear. Some of my ninth graders approached me about doing a fundraiser for the local старчески дом (old people's home). In a whirlwind of chaos, including a couple broken hearts, tired feet, improvisation, and a few tears, we managed to raise 500 leva from teachers and students from our school. We used this money to buy some very needed items for the starcheski dom. We planned out a darling little program to brighten the day of the residents, but in an act of Providence, the electricity went out not even half way through. So we improvised.

The whole process was exhausting but it taught me a lot. I learned that some students are naturally predisposed in certain tendencies, and when fostered those tendencies will grow. However, when ignored those tendencies pass away. Some times bad experiences teach children if they have a voice of wisdom. Too many students suffer from a lack of voices of wisdom. I recognized how children must be taught to appreciate what "elders" have to say. Children must be taught to follow instruction. Children must be taught to respect each other, teachers, and elders. These are not things that come naturally. Naturally, children, who then grow to adults, think only of them selves. Babies don't ask mommy if now would be a good time for a feeding. Toddlers don't ask politely to use the toilet. Children must be taught not to interrupt, to follow instructions, to speak with respect, to be generous, to be kind, etc. I pray that those children who have been taught these things will not get discouraged in the dissemination of these ideas.

Then for Christmas, I headed south!! I visited for the first time, my friend Chrissy and her family. Chrissy and her little boy moved this way when her parents decided to retire here. I found myself in a warm and loving home with lots of yummy food and hot drinks. For Christmas dinner I wound up with a bunch of British expats, discovering the intricacies of British food, like what exactly is triffle, and why Yorkshire pudding hasn't any pudding.

After Christmas I wandered up to Krichim to see the host family and other loved ones. I, of course had plenty of delicious and delightful 'gosti' (visits). I took one of my girls to Plovdiv for a lovely walk around, and got to treat her to a nice girls' day out. Like always, it was refreshing and fun to see the host family. But there is a bitter sweetness about going there. The awkwardness that transformed into amazing love hangs in every move, reminding all of us that our special relationship will be painfully altered in a matter of months now.

I returned to Razlog with a slew of company. Becca's parents stayed in a hotel while a good friend, Sarah Stiles and Becca stayed with me. The good times and hardy laughs abounded as we hung out together. New Years Eve, I cooked up a slew of tasty American food and we celebrated, the lot of us girls, plus Becca's 'rents and Arin. We then proceeded to the center to watch our lives flash before us as we huddled together protectively to shield ourselves from the fire speeding at us from every direction. New Year's Eve in the Razlog center includes both individual and state-sponsored chaos. Fire works rocket both vertically and horizontally. Entertainment is optimized by suavely tossing a little bomb into a group of people, or even better, a group of dancing people and seeing who discovers the bomb and who will be the last to flee. Also entertaining: hurling bombs at women with children, hurling bombs into the fountain causing an explosion of water, drunk men holding handheld bottle rocket launchers and see how low his arm droops before his less-drunk friend rescues him- or shall I say, rescues the rest of us from him.

Then I headed South!! to Greece. Sarah and I took an early train down to Thessaloniki, Greece. It was so amazing! Not only was it refreshing to be in a developed, English speaking, well organized, tourist friendly, warmer place for a few days, but it was so nice to count on having someone to laugh with for a few days. Sarah and I haven't really hung out in a while, and it's been even longer since we had those kind of side splitting laughs. From hamming it up with kids, to plates of meat, to luring street dogs on trams, we just had fun together. And having fun is a good way to refresh your soul when it gets trampled by the reality of life as a teacher in Eastern Europe.

Sarah and I arrived in Thessaloniki, found our hostel, checked in, dumped our stuff, and went hunting for a place to eat. We joked about just wanting some meat. We found this cute little road and on it was a tavern which looked quite closed. Apparently Greece celebrates the 2nd of January as a holiday as well. When Sarah peeked in the window to see if it was open, a sweet lady came and welcomed us in. She, in English, said her pub was in fact open and she had very good prices. She could make us some meat. Sarah and I crack up. Then ordered a couple plates of meat, some salads, some other random food, and two very tasty glasses of sweet, red Greek wine.

We spent over two days meandering around Thessaloniki. I found it to be beautiful, friendly, and overflowing with reasonably-priced shopping.
Here is where I was trying to insert some lovely pics, but I'm facing some technical issues.

After Thessaloniki, we took an afternoon train six hours south to Athens. There we again, easily found our hotel, which we found to be remarkably clean and comfortable given the very nice price. We wondered around Athens for the next two nights and days. My feet have never known such pain. But Athens was worth it. I was just astonished by how friendly people were.

While we stood in front of the Parthenon, in the Acropolis, high above the rest of Athens, Sarah and I joked about why anyone would come all the way to Greece to see this, when we have the whole thing still standing in Nashville, the "Athens of the South." Of course we were joking, it's astonishing to see something so huge, so incredibly massive and old!! Sarah posed the question, why is Nashville called the "Athens of the South" or had I just made that up. No, I didn't create that nick-name. And having been in Athens and Nashville both, the comparison makes sense. Not only are both cities known for their appreciation of culture and education, both are filled with great hospitality, warmth, beauty, and tasty food.
Although I got home and slept for over 12 hours, it really was a refreshing journey!

I'll try to get some pics up eventually.

Не Сега

2006-12-18T20:32:00.000+02:00

Миро:Не очаквай да мисля,

че в това има смисъл;

много казани думи

и тези “обичам те”

да стоят помежду ни;

недоказани думи.

Не очаквай да вярвам,

когато ми казваш,

че обичаш ме

Галя:Опитвам се да мисля,

Опитвам се да разбера

Приличаш ми на някои,

когото чаках досега.

И ако този път си ти -

няма ли силно да боли?

Аз не знам..

Може би аз не те познах,

може би още ме е страх..

Галя: Да разбера...

Миро: Аз дойдох да ти припомня.

Галя и Миро: повече неща за любовта..... но не сега.

Галя: Ако с теб се доближим, може би няма да сгрешим, но аз не знам.

Миро: Исках с теб но не посмях, може би също ме е страх.

Галя :Да разбера.

Миро: Аз дойдох да ти призная.

Галя и Миро: Повече неща за любовта..... но не сега.

Миро: Мислих много дълги нощи.

Галя: Чаках до сега, но все сама.

Миро: Мога да те чакам още.

Miro:
Don’t expect me to think,
That in this there is meaning;
Very said words
And these, “I love you”
Will stay between us;
Unproven words.
Don’t expect me to believe,
When you tell me that you love me.

Galia:
I try to think,
I try to understand
To me you look like someone,
For whom I waited until now.
And if this time it’s you-
Won’t it hurt badly?
I don’t know…
Maybe I don’t know you,
Maybe I’m still scared…

Galia: To understand
Miro: I came to remind you.
G + M: More things about love… but not now.

Galia: If with you we draw near each other, maybe we won’t be wrong, but I don’t know
Miro: I wanted you but didn’t dare, maybe I was scared too.

Galia: To understand.
Miro: I came to confess to you.
G + M: More things about love… but not now.

Miro: I thought many long nights.
Galia: I waited until now, but always alone.
Miro: I can wait for you more.
Galia: How to understand.
G + M: About love?

I just love this song. It's by КариЗма, my favorite Bulgarian duo. There's some truth to these lyrics. And it's just so pretty. The translation is mine, and it's literal- not so poetic. Sorry

not 100% bad

2006-12-13T14:46:00.000+02:00

Life isn't light or darkness, it's having enough light to take the next step, and hoping to God the light goes with you.

We don't call something 'good' because it is all good, 100% good. This is why we need modifiers like, "completely," "entirely," and "one hundred percent." Otherwise we assume there is an element of not-so-good.

Sometimes, that 'thing' can be quite unpleasant, but there is enough goodness comprised in 'it' that we keep pushing ourselves to do 'it.' The goodness helps us to get up the next day and start doing 'it' again. The goodness we find in 'it' is the momentum that gets us started. For me, it is nearly impossible to stop, once I have begun. You can ask my parents, I never know when to quit.

School every day has become incredibly frustrating. I can't blame any one person, and I blame everybody, including myself. Everyday it seems I have forgotten why I am here. So I live for the spots of light and pray that in the next hour another spot of light will find me.

Spots of light can be pretty random. Like, when you are scheduled to teach eight hours in a period of six, and none of your twelfth graders come to either of their periods. A bit of a rest, and a lot of absences. Or, when half of that seventh grade class, which is notoriously the worst behaved class in school, stays downstairs to play table tennis during their hour with you, and you can work with the kids who care (and the rest of the class gets unexcused absences!). Or the smile you get from the disengaged girl in the back. Or when, even though they are wildly noisy, you know they love you and will remember you. Or when the class breaks out in Horo to practice for the program they are doing for the home for old people (that's how it translates okay!).

Yes, my kids are raising money and doing a program for the local nursing home. I can't tell you how excited this makes me. Those blessed old folks do not have it well, and my kiddos, they just have the biggest hearts. ... and mouths, to my chagrin

I have to depend on those moments to get me through each day. Even though most of the time they drive me crazy, there are moments when I get through to my students. Even if it is just one out of 25.

Peace

2006-12-12T17:36:00.000+02:00

"If people who want nothing to do with God, and are hostile to church, and are considered kind of on the margins, if they love being around you, and very wound up religious people who think that they are right and everybody is wrong find you deeply disturbing and offensive, then you're being like Jesus."

From a sermon by Rob Bell called, "Jesus Wants to Save Christians - Part VII

Mars Hill has begun a new series concerning Christians and their role in seeking Peace. And they don't mean that inner cozy feeling. Capitol "P" Peace. World peace. Bell, in the first of the series asserts that Jesus, by dying on the cross, makes a statement to that government that he would not be a part of violence, and that Christians today have an obligation to seek peace. Sounds good. Follow along!

Some things are just too beautiful for words...

A picture of my mud covered brother -

somewhere in california I reckon.

Tennessee

2006-12-11T15:45:00.000+02:00

I was not born in Tennessee. I don't know if I'd like to live there for the rest of my life. When we moved there I was traumatized. Of course, I was a 13 year old drama-queen, so everything traumatized me. But moving 3000 miles from the area you were born in, from your friends and family, from everything you know to be normal is a big deal.

When we moved, I did not make a significant effort to "integrate." At first, I wore the same green sweatshirt to school everyday- a sweatshirt my dad had bought me from the university he'd gone to, and where I took music lessons. Later, in high school, the band director called me "California girl" or just "California." While, this was realistically because there were so many of us in the band and he needed to use nicknames, it reminded me that I was different. My teachers asked me where I was from. They told me they knew I wasn't local because when I said "pen," it only had one syllable. I argued with my best friend, trying to convince her that "mirror" had two syllables.

I've had plenty of discussions about the south, and southern speech. And now I'm here to admit it. There was a time when I too was ignorant and uniformed enough to think that just because someone said they "might could help me" rather than they "might be able to help me" did not mean they don't know how to use modal verbs. For a long time I refused to speak "Southern" because I thought it sounded stupid. Nearly everyone associates a stereotype to an accent or dialect. I often wonder what other Bulgarians think about people in my little region.

Turns out, I just wanted to distinguish myself. I wanted people to know that I was different. I am not from here. But I got over that. I grew to love middle Tennessee, to recognize the benefits of the area and the people. I also went away to university and heard all these different types of pronunciation and recognized that we all have accents, and they have no reflection on our personality or intellect. So I gave in. I became from Tennessee.

If you are from or know anything about the south, particularly Tennessee, you'll 'perciate this little forward. -The last three are my own personal additions.

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED LIVING IN Tennessee:

Possums sleep in the middle of the road with their feet in the air.
There are 5,000 types of snakes and 4,998 live in Tennessee.
There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 live in Tennessee plus a couple no one's seen before.
If it grows, it sticks; if it crawls, it bites.
"Onced" and "twiced" are words.
It is not a shopping cart; it is a buggy.
People actually grow and eat okra.
"Fixinda" is one word.
There is no such thing as lunch. There is only dinner and then there is supper.
Iced tea is appropriate for all meals, and you start drinking it when you're two.
We do like a little tea with our sugar!
"Backards and forwards" means "I know everything about you."
"DJeet?" is actually a phrase meaning "Did you eat?"
You don't have to wear a watch because it doesn't matter what time it is. You work until you're done or it's too dark to see.
You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH them.

YOU KNOW YOU'RE FROM Tennessee IF:
You measure distance in minutes.
You've ever had to switch from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day.
You use "fixin'" as a verb and a noun. Example: "I'm fixing to go to the store." or "We're having hamburgers and fixin's for supper."
All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable,grain, insect or animal.
You install security lights on your house and garage and leave both unlocked.
You know what a "dawg" is.
You carry jumper cables in your car... for your OWN car and a rope in the event you'll be needing a tow after a spell.
You only own four spices: salt, pepper, Tabasco and ketchup.
The local papers cover national and international news on one page, but require six pages for local gossip and sports.
You think that the first day of deer season is a national holiday.
You find 100 degrees Fahrenheit "a little warm."
You know all four seasons: Almost Summer, Summer, still Summer and Christmas.
Going to Wal-Mart is a favorite past time known as "goin' Wal-Martin'" or off to "Wally World."
You describe the first cool snap (below 70 degrees) as good pinto-bean weather.
A carbonated soft drink isn't a soda, cola or pop... it's a Coke, regardless of brand or flavor. Example: "What kinda coke you want?"
Fried catfish is the other white meat.
We don't need no stinking driver's ed... if our mama says we can drive, we can drive.
A "mess" has nothing in common with "a mess of food" or a "mess of trouble."
You BLEED ORANGE.
You shamelessly wear black and gold even though Vandy hasn't won anything 'ceptin that last game 'gainst Middle.

and then there was light

2006-12-07T18:34:00.000+02:00

Ever have one of those days/weeks/months in which it seems like things have hit rock bottom? When you begin to question everything you are doing and are nearly ready to give it up and start over? The last week has been like that for me, except for a brief respite of distraction over the weekend.

School lately has been torture of a kind I've never before known. In a period of 6 hours I'm scheduled to teach 8. ehhh? I either left a class on the verge of tears or in a fit of violent rage. In either case, I feel completely useless. I hear myself saying, "Not one of these students want to learn, so why have I come all this way to teach them?"

I'm not going to quit of course. I've come this way. I've invested this much. I have some friendships from which I want to squeeze every bit of goodness I possibly can. But I might go completely crazy along the way. (no, i'm not there yet)

Funny how things have to hit rock bottom before they get better. Why can't life be just a little unpleasant before it takes a sudden hike upward? Maybe it does and we just don't recognize these improvements as miraculous blessings because we don't recognize our need for them?

Today, after teaching six classes in six hours (failure, since I was supposed to teach eight :x ), I was scheduled to teach an after school elective. Although I was beyond exhausted, I stayed because these kids are the stars in my dark night. I didn't really have a lesson plan, but I figured we could plan a Christmas party. Turns out, these precious young people would rather plan a charity event and fundraiser for the local nursing home.

We spent two hours, hungry and tired, after a full day of classes for all of us, planning ways to raise money and care for Razlog's elderly. Here's something you should understand. First, Bulgarian youth are not nearly as civic-minded as American youth, which really isn't very civic-minded to begin with. Secondly, Bulgaria has a very communal culture. People live in multi-generational homes. You can easily find a home with four generations in it. So, to have elderly living on their own, with out family to live with means they are indeed very lonely. And to have a group of five fifteen year-olds who want to help these people is something I cannot describe with words. These are the best of Razlog, I'm sure.

I'm so thankful for the spots of light that remind me that there are some amazing things I can be apart of here.

s'mores, turkey, chicken, and pumpkin mush

2006-11-29T19:42:00.000+02:00

Thanksgiving is over. Last year I was miserable with a sinus infection, and miserable with spite. This year I have neither spite nor sinus troubles. I'm glad.

With Thanksgiving over there are so many things I can be thankful for. My friends and family, family friends. I'm glad for the incredibly deep and substative relationships I've made here, for the people who've helped to shape my life and the people whose lives I hope I too have touched. But being so far from home, it's hard to not think about all the things you miss. I'm not so tragically nastalgic. But I am eager to get back home.

So eager, in fact, that in a fit of anger at a group of kids so unruly that i wrote three numbers up on the board. Those numbers were not my lucky numbers, the addition of important dates in my life, my astrological numbers, or any other of the wacky guesses my kids made. They were 1, 2, and 8. In that order. They signify the number of school days remaining in my service. I feel a bit guilty for this count. But in that moment, when all around me was lunacy, that count, that goal helps me to maintain my sanity.

The rate at which sanity disolves in raving lunacy has increased by 100%. We can only hope and pray, and pray diligently that the situation is only temporary, but while the situation exists I am doomed. That situation is a near doubling of my weekly class hours. I'm all about stepping up. Being the big person. Taking one for the team. Going the extra mile. Bulgaria has yet to wring that out of me. So, a fellow English teacher has a daughter in the hospital (as I understand it through my messy Bulgarian) and may not be back for some time. I have taken on 12 of her class hours, in addition to my 15. That is utterly ridiculous. CRAZY! These classes are the weakest and hand-in-hand with weak performance is sadly poor behavior. For the first time, I had to conduct a class nearly entirly in Bulgarian. The saddest part is that these students study from a book that is leap years ahead of their profeciency level.

I don't know what I'll do. I am eager for the challenge of some of these classes. But I cannot feasibly carry 27 class hours a week. Not when you consider that I will be teaching 9 different levels. NINE!! I will gladly take on this extra work. Crazy people are always happier.

I meant to ramble about my different Thanksgiving celebration, but clearly it's more important that I complain...

sorry

Thanksgiving is coming!

2006-11-19T12:24:00.000+02:00

Welcome to another lazy Sunday in my Bulgo-American life. It's actually been a pretty lazy weekend. Friday I went to the most popular "mehana" (traditional Bulgarian restaraunt) with a few girlfriends. This place is the place to be in our little valley. While we were too close to the speakers, we had a great time. Most mehana's don't bust out in raving rounds of horo. Most mehana's don't lead people to dangerous, bloody head injuries. Okay, so the guy was sloppy drunk and decided to jump and bang his head on the cowbells hanging from the ceiling. ohhh I do love my little valley. After our adventures at Mehana Makedonia, we headed over to the hopping party in Razlog at Barrata. I'd sworn never to go. I'd promised myself that while I might lose my dignity at every other town and village in this valley, not here. But I went to Razlog's only disco.

And it was fun. The moment we walked in I saw a pack of students. And they announced to their friends that two of their English teachers are here. So many of my students. It was intimidating. It was embarrassing. At one point, I looked across the room and I see a former student talking to a guy who I did not recognized. He was pointing at me. Not just a head-nod, point with the chin point. Not even just a finger point. He was wielding a full on whole arm point. Unbelievable. A few minutes later the same former student, a darling, sweet, always smiling tenth grader called Katia, came to my friend and colleague Yulia and asked her something. Then Katia asked me if she could introduce me to her friend. So as it turns out, this arm-pointer is a British guy named Chris. Strangely enough, I'd heard about him from some girls in a different tenth grade class. He'd offer to come and speak to their class and they bragged that they already had a native English speaker for a teacher. hmm.

Last night I went out with a bunch of folks and students. We made plans to go to Dobarsko and and cook a turkey on Thursday. Dobarsko is always a source of fun and trouble for me, so I'm super excited about this possibility. I'm also going to try my hand at real stuffing. Oh, and I'll finally get to share the joy of s'mores with Bulgarian youth. My former site mates sent a box of marshmallows and graham crackers so as to share the beauty of melty, sticky, gooey marshmallow-y deliciousness!

Then of course, Friday I will begin receiving guests. We may go to a bit of discoing in Bansko to see the world renowned Sofi Marinova, accompanied by the hip hop stylings of Ustata (translation: the mouth). There will be lots of cooking and merry-making.

Saturday will be a Thanksgiving throwdown Razlog style. Which means it will be a raging good time and there will be tons of food.

I feel like there is so much to look forward to even after the excitement and chaos of Thanksgiving passes. It seems like there are plans every weekend from now until the new year. Then the time will fly and before we know it, I'll be shopping for a prom dress, seeing my 12th graders off into their future, and sorting out my apartment. Bittersweet. It's just strange how quickly everything is going. That speed lunges my imagination into June. Picking up my sister, hopping around eastern Europe, getting my CELTA certs, and flying back to Nashville to readjust to western life.

I have a nasty habit of putting the cart before the horse. Let's see if my horses can push this cart along for the next 7 months.

Dear Church: Letters From a Disillusioned Generation.

2006-11-13T19:39:00.000+02:00

This is a little bit from a bigger bit on the link up above. By the way, burnside writer's collective has a lot of neat pieces of writing by Christians, or religious people, or Jesus freaks, or spiritual folks, how ever you'd like to label them. More importantly, they're writing about issues that are important to them, not only about God and spirituality. Anyway, this book looks good and I suggest you buy the whole book, read it quickly, then mail it to me!!

I can’t say I’m “religious,” because we’ve all been taught the folly of that. Now everyone say it together: “This is not a religion, it’s a relationship.”
I can’t say I’m “a Jesus Freak,” because although I do know D.C. Talk’s rap by heart, I like people to wait in suspense a while before deciding I’m a freak. I don’t want to tell them right from the beginning. It takes the fun out of it.
I can’t say I’m “spiritual,” because people translate that as a simple “two thumbs up” for Mel Gibson’s Passion movie. Or they figure I subscribe to an online horoscope and watch TV shows about channeling my dead pets. Spirituality is very in, you know. My waitress, drycleaner, dentist, and grocery store cashier all have WWJD bracelets and copies of The Prayer of Jabez to prove it.

Dear Church: Letters From a Disillusioned Generation.Publisher: Zondervan (August 1, 2006)ISBN: 031026958XPrice: 12.99
You can purchase a copy of the book at Powells.com

In opposition to the religious right

2006-11-13T15:09:00.000+02:00

I read an interesting article in the November 13 international edition of Newsweek called "An Evangelical Identity Crisis" by Lisa Miller. She quotes an evangelical pastor from Kansas, Adam Hamilton on the rising need for something beyond and more effective than the religious right.

The religious right has "gone too far," says Hamilton. "They've lost their focus on the spirit of Jesus and have separated the world into black and white, when the world is much more gray." He adds: "I can't see Jesus standing with signs at an anti-gay rally. It's hard to picture that."

This is an excerpt of an article concerning a new group of intellectuals and activists opposing the religious right. While the RR is very much used to being opposed, I'm sure it's relatively unaccustomed to being challenged by fellow Christian intellectuals and religious leaders. Besides heading up activism for a strictly peaceful debate with Iran, and an end to the genocide in Darfur, the Red Letter Christians or RLC seeks to motivate Evangelicals to seriously consider their vote and political persuasions according to the words of Jesus, not according traditional political lines. They also suggest that Evangelicals stand up and identify themselves on issues beyond same-sex marriage and abortion. How novel.

"Group asks: What did Jesus say?"
By Frank James
Chicago Tribune 9-19-2006

Randall Balmer, a Columbia University professor and expert on American religious history, gave just a sense of the fight that’s brewing.

".. The evangelical faith that nurtured me as a child and that sustains me as an adult has been hijacked by right wing zealots who really have no real understanding of the teachings of Jesus,” he said.

“They have taken the Gospel the Good News of Jesus Christ, something that I consider to be lovely and redemptive, and turned it into something ugly and punitive," he said. "They have cherry picked through the Scriptures wrenching verses out of context and used those verses as a bludgeon against their political enemies.”

Balmer went on to say he has no problem with faith in the public square. His problem was that the RR seemed to view itself as inseparable from the Republican party.

The Red Letter Christians seem to be the voice of Jesus in a world that has been listening to only the powerful for too long.

Travel Writers: Rise to the Occasion by Mark Teramae

2006-11-12T14:30:00.000+02:00

Location: Mostar, Bosnia-Hercegovina, South-East Europe

I found myself sitting at a table on the terrace of a restaurant overlooking the river on a warm July evening. There I sat enjoying a nice cold beer with the three companions I made this journey with earlier in the day. It sounds like the typical backpacker scenario. River, outdoor restaurant, beer, travel buddies, they all seem quite synonymous with the excursions of a backpacker.

Well this particular excursion was a bit different for me as the river was the Neretva, the beer was Sarajevsko Pivo and that morning's journey was through the war-ravaged Hercegovinian countryside. This was Mostar, Bosnia-Hercegovina, a city blown to bits during the Muslim-Croat fighting in the mid-90s and with an outer image giving one the impression that the war in fact had only ended the day before.

Here I was amongst the mangled beams and twisted steel that was once a library. Here I sat down to eat where the rocket holes are more numerous than the tourists and the old Turkish bridge now resides at the bottom of the river it once so eloquently spanned. But in the midst of this destruction I found myself in one of the most serene and beautiful settings that I have ever encountered and it has forever changed my life. It was a setting that when thought of still produces chills that run up and down my spine.

On this particular warm July evening the moon was out in full and hovering above the Kujundziluk (Old Turkish Quarter). Directly in front of me was the Neretva with its pristine waters rushing past from left to right and the reflection of the moon staying forever in its middle. Behind this most graceful river sat the damaged and partially razed buildings on ul. Marsala Tita, mysteriously silhouetted by the moonlight. To my right were the remnants of the old Stari Most, lit up by the moon and resembling a pair of bookends with nothing in between.

So there I was gazing out across this quiet and melancholic setting created by the wonders of nature and the horrors of war when the Muslim call to prayer came on from the mosque across the river. A feeling of peace and contentment filled my body as I sat there mesmerised by the beauty entering my ears. Each word carried not only a harmonious note and a holy message but also the sound of hundreds of years of history and the assertion that despite being in the midst of so much destruction, not even war can crush the spirit of a proud people. As the beautiful prayer echoed throughout the town I could almost feel the rejuvenation occurring in front of my eyes. The spirit of these words and the tragic beauty of the scenery left an impression on my heart and mind that I will never forget.

I'm just happy I was there to experience it, sitting on that restaurant terrace overlooking the river and enjoying a beer with my travel buddies in the typical backpacker scenario!

This is the bridge that the author above is refering to. Unlike the travel writer who so accurately describes the feeling any half-sensitive person might feel in this amazing city, by the time we got to Mostar, only last summer, the bridge had been fabulously rebuilt. I took this picture from the yard outside of a mosque, most likely the one from which the writer heard the evening call to prayer. Visitors can pay a fee and climb the minorette for an amazing veiw of the city.

I'm not sure why, but I'm hung up on the former Yugoslavia. The chemistry there is amazing. Still rich with ancient history. Bubbling with energy. Ready to break free from the strife of decades. Sadly, they, like all of Eastern Europe, including Russia are still battling the destructive forces of nationalism and ethnic conflict. No matter what, I can't wait to go back this summer and learn a few things!

State your case

2006-11-11T19:55:00.000+02:00

I’ve been listening a lot lately to The Cranberries. I adore them. It reminds me of a bitterly tumultuous and richly felt period of my life and I like looking back on that. I have a great appreciation for the honesty and depth in their songs, but not in a highly esoteric and cryptic way. I also hugely appreciate their social awareness and activity. Their songs and videos tackle topics like the war in Bosnia, and the social unrest in their homeland of Ireland.

I asked my students if celebrities should take part in political activism. They disagreed strongly, asserting that their fans listen to or watch them because of their talent, not because of their opinions. I can respect that. This is why I do not boycott every artist with whom I politically disagree.

I disagree with my students. I think that if you have a platform and opinions, then you should speak. If people will watch, you should act. If people will listen, you should speak.

I do sometimes fear that people have become too ignorant to differentiate between celebrity and intellect. Because someone plays a president on television does not mean he is qualified to offer presidential advice. Because someone has traveled the world does not qualify him as an expert on international relations. There’s nothing wrong with him sharing his opinion, but we as media consumers must remember that his opinion is simply that. Opinion. We don’t have to share it. Furthermore, simply sharing some celebrity’s opinion qualifies you as nothing more than a person who reads the most recent US weekly. If you have an opinion, do something about it. Don’t just gripe.

I respect anyone who uses their status to say what they think and what they’ve seen. I feel sorry for anyone who joins on whatever celebrity bandwagon is hot this week.

I wish more people had listened to the Cranberries when they sang for Bosnia. I took these pictures just outside Mostar, in southern Bosnia. Somehow, not all of Bosnia i Hercegovina has found the money like Sarajevo to rebuild from a war which devastated the landscape, among many things.

one quarter

2006-11-02T17:21:00.000+02:00

I turned 25.  My quarter life crisis should be complete right?  I mean, I’m not likely to live to see 100 years.  But I don’t think it is.  Maybe I’m exaggerating.  Perhaps I am under the assumption that life eventually settles and makes sense.  It is possible that some people settle into some track that they are okay with, perhaps even pleased with.  I can’t remember ever being pleased with where I was while I was there.  There was always something that pushed me to move-change-stretch-grow.  Sometimes it’s my own displeasure with a situation.  Frequently it is the prospect of the unknown potential.  Many times it has been people who challenge me.

The worst part of being in Bulgaria is not having the people around me who constantly challenge me.  Maybe I should step up and practice a little self discipline.  But let’s face it, I’m not a very self motivated person.  I can be an extremely motivated girl, but I’m not a ‘pull her up by her bootstrings’ kind of girl.  What the heck is that anyway?  How come no one has ever pointed out that pulling ones self up by one’s boot straps or strings or whatever is a physical impossibility?!  I’ve had a couple of relationships come in and out of my life which in retrospect, I can say helped me to be a better person.  And is there any feeling better than knowing you help make someone else a better person?  I’m not saying I don’t have any good friendships here, but I do feel a certain void in the “soul changing relationship” department.  I mean that both ways- I don’t see how I’m helping to change anyone and no one is helping me to be a better, more complete me.

We have come to the point then, when the question must be asked, am I in a state which is conducive to aiding in the changing of lives.  I think that is a loaded question.  There are some things for which you can never really be prepared… having kids, marriage, and being a life-changing friend.

I don’t know… Maybe it’s the fact that the American light is shining through this wintery darkness.  Maybe it is the wintery darkness.  Maybe it’s the lack of challenge or the fact that there is no one to challenge me but myself and as we’ve established, I’m pretty crummy at that.  But I’ve been feeling rather discontent lately.  Part of that is just me, one of my not so healthy little quirks- I’m rarely content.  Perhaps it means something too though.  Could it be something needs to change?

Sorry, this is a terrible messy post…

good day

2006-10-31T22:55:00.000+02:00

do you ever end a day with a great sense of accomplishment? i feel so spent. there will be pictures and explanations at a later point, but here's the rundown... i singlehandedly organized a halloween party for my 9a class, which included games, prizes, pizzas, and my homemade lasagne. Turns out I rock the lasagne. my kids had a great time. the other teachers, while hesitant at first, seemed to be impressed by the halloween shinanegins (sp?). a good outcome. some great memories. i love my kiddos.

To quote Paris Hilton: Dare to Dream...

2006-10-17T22:06:00.000+03:00

I read a blog recently about being true to idealism. The blogger noted today’s generation’s tendency to be cynical and criticize all the bad things they see rather than remaining true to their ideals and do something to change those things which can be criticized.

I listened to a sermon by Rob Bell at Mars Hill today. He talked about how when Paul was accused by the Corinthians of inciting a riot, a leader of the community said he had never blasphemed against any of their Gods. When he addressed the Corinthians, he told them he had note come to them with fancy words, but had come and demonstrated. Pastor Bell suggests that one of the purposes of Jesus was to free us from words and explanations but to live by demonstration.

Demonstration requires action.

I watched a pretty mediocre Hallmark movie on the Kennedy family, particularly the roles of the three Kennedy wives, Jackie, Ethel, and Joan. The last scene of the movie, Joan, a recovering alcoholic, pulls herself together to support her husband Ted as he runs for the democratic nomination for the presidency. With Joan and their children behind him, Senator Ted Kennedy gives his secession speech. Giving his wife a brief moment of pride in their tumultuous marriage, he quotes a poem that was beloved of both of his deceased brothers, Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s “Ulysses.” So, I went through the books of poetry that I had sent to me and reread Ulysses.

I could just trust that you, intelligent reader, can interpret these lines for yourself. And I’m sure you can. And if you have some wisdom beyond mine, which is very limited, please comment them to me.

In Tennyson’s poem, Ulysses remarks about his present, his past, and finally our future. He expresses his boredom with measuring out, “Unequal laws unto a savage race,/ That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me” (lines 4-5). After reminiscing on his past, his adventures, his pursuits, and his pains, in lines 18-32 he makes this statement about mankind:

I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

Ulysses reminds his audience that to live is more than to breathe. He urges us to chase our rainbows. Even if you had lifetimes it wouldn’t be enough, but in every hour that you have before this life is over there is more to learn, more to chase after. Ahh, beautiful. And TRUE!

Then Ulysses spends a few lines bragging on his son’s qualities which, if someone were to say the same of him, he would be insulted I presume. “Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere/ Of common duties, decent not to fail/ In offices of tenderness…” (ll 39-41). He also attributes to his son discernment, slow prudence, and faithfulness to the household gods. These Ulysses clearly sees as good qualities, but not qualities he possesses. He tells his audience that Telemachus will be good for the people and help them to become a better people, through his wisdom and patience; something Ulysses himself cannot do. It’s not his nature. It’s not who he is.

The last stanza of the poem is Ulysses appeal to his audience. Who is he addressing? Perhaps he is crying out to his sailors for one more journey…

Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.

There are reasons to not accept the challenges that face you. There are valid reasons to stifle the cries of you heart. For Ulysses, it is old age and death. For you maybe it is poverty, your busy life, your children, your marriage, your mortgage, a phobia, a physical ailment. The list can go on forever. Ulysses acknowledged in the very beginning that he was chasing a rainbow. He did not expect to reach the end.

Perhaps that is part of the joy. An achievable dream has the potential to let you down, but a dream which is constantly beyond your grasp will stretch you. That might be discouraging for some people. To strive for something they will never achieve.

Maybe it would be better if we didn’t discourage ourselves. Let’s only have dreams that we can liquefy. Please, at the risk of your self-esteem, please only dream in realistic terms. Limit yourself to practical goals. Here are some ideas which should be avoided: world peace, end to hunger, health care for all humanity, cures to diseases, saving endangered species, improving job markets, ending corruption, ending inequality, religious respect and tolerance. These things YOU will never accomplish.

For the sake of you sense of self-worth which you may maintain by seeing goals accomplished, please dream about things like these: getting a raise, buying a new car every two years, saving for my daughters’ university educations, helping children at the neighborhood school learn to read, getting two new people to come to my church every year, seeing one person come to Jesus each year.

You know what, scratch that. Making goals may be too hard for some of us. Just float through life and quench all desire to dream.

Okay, enough of the farse… YOU will never cure AIDS by yourself, but if you make and achieve proper goals and surround yourself with like-minded people you WILL move closer to dream. And saving for Jenny’s education is of course a good thing, and something you should do. But let’s don’t replace goals with dreams. Don’t focus on something that is useful because that which is ideal is unattainable.

Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
(ll 65-70)

Life will wear you down, but until you have breathed your last there is strength remaining in you. Focusing on what you are not will not moving into the future. Focusing on who you are in this present moment, acknowledging the strength and determination you possess will guide you into your dream.

And for Christ’s sake, please, DO SOMETHING! Don’t just sit and complain. Demonstrate your passion! Show your heart. Express your life.

Something's gone rotten

2006-10-17T22:01:00.000+03:00

“I don’t have the patience to wait for God to give me the strength to love sometimes. I try to love of my own strength. I find this tiring, futile, and altogether worthless. But as I look back on the love I’ve known in my life, I’ve always tried (at least in the beginning) to love with a love that is not of me.”

I saw these words in a blog I wrote last December. I was going through things I’ve written. These words struck me particularly. I have this one relationship that’s gone pretty sour. I’ve been trying to sort out why. Unrealistic goals, self-destructive tendencies, poor communication, blablabla… These words from December are the reason the whole mess went south. These words are the reason why any relationship goes badly. We don’t capital “L” Love. I know I wasn’t little “l” loving, but I didn’t even big “L” love…

Some things I love

2006-10-16T20:13:00.000+03:00

Some Things I Love

Dancing

Hearing a song that speaks to my soul

Stepping in fresh snow on a sunny day

Getting an email from someone I haven’t heard from in a while

Words that take my breath away and make me smile

Kicking up leaves with my feet

Hearing children laugh from their bellies

Seeing pictures, hearing songs, or smelling things that remind me of that perfect vacation

Getting a package from someone who loves me

An unexpected complement

Laughing till tears fall down my face

Knowing that someone has done something just for me

Feeling like I’ve accomplished something

Cooking a nice meal for someone else

Doing something for someone which I know he or she will appreciate and enjoy

Walking out of a class with a smile

A hug that squeezes the uglies away

What do you love?

bleeeh

2006-10-07T13:23:00.000+03:00

Maybe it's the changing seasons. Maybe it's the change of pace. Maybe it's the changing me.

I just feel eh lately.

Right now, when I look outside, I can't tell if it's 7 am or 7 pm. There's a gross haze that is eerily reminiscent of winter. I hate winter. Winter makes the very fiber of my being cold and indifferent simply because every bit of energy must be allotted to keeping me physically alive -keeping my blood moving and all of my organs functioning. There is no energy for things like "care" or "motivation."

In one month this ugly haze that we have today will be trumped by little white flakes of icy misery. snow. one month. cold. ice. frozen. arctic wind. slip. broken bones. muscle aches. sickness.

okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. It's probably not going to snow for at least six weeks.

No, seriously, I'm not really that pathetic. I'm just having a bit of a low day and wanted to moan for a minute. But I feel a lot better now, since I can direct all of my negative thoughts toward winter and off of the real problems, which probably won't melt away like winter does.

AND I can focus on the good things... There are a few things that I have to look forward to, particularly my birthday and Thanksgiving.

My birthday is this month and I'll be 25. I suppose this should be some big birthday and I should mark it with serious reflection and introspection. I doubt I will. I think I thought 25 was the time when you were officially grown up. The time of playing around should be over and you should start your grown up life. wah wahhh waaah wa wahhhh. (think teacher from "Peanuts") I'll "grow up" when life calls for it. What is "grown up" anyway? No, for now, I'm going to go hang out with those friends I have who aren't going to some crazy debaucherous halloween event in my favorite BG city for some good food, good times, and goooooood dancing (i love to get my dance on).

But that's nothing. Thanksgiving is my lighthouse. This love of playing the hostess is something new to me. I don't know if it's strictly a BG thing, or if it will stay with me in the states, but in the meanwhile I'll indulge it... By again hosting a big Thanksgiving dinner. So far, including myself there are ten people sleeping in Razlog. Last year we slept seven in my flat and it was pretty crowded. There's still time for more people... I'm sure I can find places for people to sleep if they don't feel like acting the role of an overstuffed sardine in a tin similar to a cold wooden floor. In the meanwhile, I'll work out the menu, figure out when to start cooking what, and making sure everyone knows how to get here.

Last year, Thanksgiving was... unique. Somehow I had a very Dickons-y "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" kind of experience. Given everything, I'm more than eager to see each face at my home again this year. Some old things won't be here, like a wet urine-like spot on my metaphorical floor and some new things will, like taco salad. And I expect the chaos will remain. Using the radiator to keep food warm and the other room as a refrigerator... Assigning bus station duty to someone so new arrivals can end the long journey... Using the balcony as a refrigerator since the real one is too full. Juggling pots and pans so everything can get cooked. All that chaos warms my heart.

Yeah for taco salad. Yeah for metaphorical urine drying up. Yeah for friendships that are stronger than friendships. Yeah for birthdays, for food, for dancing. Yeah for change. Yeah for lessons.

some things I've been worrking on...

2006-10-02T21:50:00.000+03:00

This is a гоблен (goblen). It's a type of embroidery. It's my new hobby.
After I bought this little set which the shop lady said would be easy for me, I came home and ran into my land-lady. When I told her what I'd bought she insisted I see what she has embroidered. Then she came over and helped me get started. I've always hated sewing because of all the knots. With these, there are no knots! I love it! This is what I got done today!!
This is the scheme one uses to know what to embroider. Every color has a symbol. Every one square on the scheme is four little squares on my cloth. This paper is only half the scheme for my little winter scene.
And these are some peanut butter brownies I made last weekend. Although they were a little burnt, they were quite tasty.

That's what I've been doing lately. Besides teaching, of course...

Blowing in the Wind

2006-10-02T21:38:00.000+03:00

I was putting my wet clothes out on the clothes line the other day. I forget now, but it must have been cool outside. I could see the water blowing off the clothes in the wind. The sun was in just the right place, so that I could see little rainbows ribboning around my pajama pants. So I played with the continuous mode on my camera...

Your Greatest Fear?

2006-09-27T23:34:00.000+03:00

On Crossing Jordan tonight, Lilly’s mom was hit by a car and died.

Do you have a greatest fear?  One of those fears that, when you don’t have any really good thoughts to mill about in your head at night before you go to sleep, begins to creep into your mind and run your imagination ragged?  Do you have one of those fears which sends you into nightmares from which you wake up crying?

I had always thought that “to wake up crying” was an exaggeration.  A few months ago I woke up from an incredibly vivid dream with tears soaking my pillow.  I have had nightmares, when I was younger, that were so frightening that upon waking up I began to cry.  However, I had never been so taken in by a dream – a nightmare – that in the midst of it I cried.  It’s not a good way to wake up.  Now, I cannot remember the exact story of this dream, but I do remember the general outcome.  It is the same as the nightmares made me cry when I woke from them.  They were about my mother.  Dying.

My mother is not dead, but I have this huge paranoia that my mother will die before I’m ready.  How sad is that?  First, it’s silly to think that a person is ever ready for their parent to die.  Second, it’s selfish for me to have some obsession when such terrible things are happening around me.  And I’m worried my mom is going to get murdered or something…

I’ve never talked with my mom about these things.  And she didn’t give me permission to share the following private details.  I hope she doesn’t get upset, but I think she’ll cope.

A few weeks ago my mom sent me an email telling me that her doctor had found a five inch mass on her right ovary.  She went in to the doctor’s because she felt like she had “something moving around inside.”  Blood work was done and it showed there was no cancer present.  She and her doctors decided that it would be best to not only remove the ovary, but to perform a complete hysterectomy.  They did this last Monday.  That night my father called to say she came out of surgery fine and her doctor says the mass looked normal.  The next day I talked to my mom.  She said the same thing.

When I talked to my father I was elated.  I jumped around my flat as soon as we hung up.

When I talked to my mother I felt dejected and alone.  I felt like a terrible child.  I kicked myself for being on the other side of the world, yet again, as my mother is going through a painful and difficult time.  Mom refused to let me consider flying home though.  What could I have really done?

Today, eight days after my mom’s surgery, she is still in some pain.  She is still suffering some nasty side effects.  I don’t even want to begin to consider all the ways her life will change from this very important operation.  Today, the pathology reports came back on the cells taken from her mass.  As it turns out, there were some “borderline” cells.

When I received the email with these newest pieces of information I was crushed all over again, but not in quite the same way.  I cried not so much for the threat of my mother’s health, but for this emotional roller-coaster she is on.  I cried because I know she must be crying these days.  I cried because I see myself so great in my mother’s eyes, and to imagine her going through this with out me is torture because I just don’t know how she can be doing it.  But I am fooling myself only.  No one believes that I am the strong one.

I don’t pretend to understand the medical bits.  I don’t understand how blood work showed nothing, and it looked fine, but now it seems there is some cancer.  And I don’t understand how, if before the test said there was no cancer, further tests will be any kind of reliable.  But I guess it’s not for me to understand.

So, what’s your greatest fear?

Smells like winter

2006-09-26T00:00:00.000+03:00

Walking home from one of the last evening coffees outside, I recognized the smell of winter. People have started lighting their wood stoves, causing the air to have that haze that makes the sunset all the more brilliant as it falls over the mountains, not yet draped in white. Folks here are still preparing for winter. Last minute canning involves a huge pot, more like a cauldron really, lit from below with a wood fire. On the side of the road, near the river, across from the homes, flowers are still bright and healthy. Above them a few meters, the leaves are beginning to change to orange-rust-yellow. Don't they know, they'll just fall in a month? Some will still be clinging to the branch when that first snow comes in November.

I'm hoping for a better winter this year. So far, everything else is better than last year. The crisis, conflicts, drama, and debates are not foreseen. I know my way around this landscape a little better. I have friends and support here. I have people who really care about me this year. No way but up right?

School and Hallmark Movies

2006-09-15T17:51:00.000+03:00

The new school year began today. It began with all of the "normal" celebrations. All the students lined up in their classes, arranged by age. At the end, the twelfth graders walked in the building hand-in-hand with the first graders. It was sweet. Some how, I felt a bit of sadness at the thought of this year... my last everything in Bulgaria, with these kids.

The start of a new year, but I really don't feel like analyzing my life and preparing emotionally for this year.

I hate how "Hallmark" movies set up two situations, and the protagonist in one situation learns from the lessons of the other protagonist's crisis of years gone by. Or how two characters, with some strong bond- father/son, sisters, mother/daughter, etc -deal with their own independent issues and somehow, through their own failings help eachother to heal. It's so unrealistic. But then, I guess we're not supposed to really believe in the movies.

Did you know?

2006-08-13T17:36:00.000+03:00

I realized that I remember hearing about the crisis in Somalia when I was young. I remember seeing the pictures of the starving babies with distended bellies. I vaguely remember not exactly of Mogadishu, but of an armed forces movement- of something beyond peaceful shipments of food and medical aide. This was before the genocide in Rwanda.

Did you know there is fighting again in Mogadishu?

"The 2nd Battle of Mogadishu started in May 2006. The battle is being fought between the Alliance for the Restoration of Peace and Counter-Terrorism or "ARPCT" and militia loyal to Islamic Courts Union or "ICU". The conflict began in mid-February. As of June 5th, at least 350 people, mostly civilians, have died caught in the crossfire. Mogadishu residents described it as the worst fighting in more than a decade of lawlessness. The Islamists blame the U.S. for funding warlords in an attempt to prevent them gaining power in the lawless country through its Central Intelligence Agency. The U.S. government and the CIA have neither admitted nor denied these allegations.

The Somali transitional government president Abdullahi Yusuf told the BBC the alliance of warlords is not fighting on behalf of the government.

On 5 June 2006, it was reported that members of the Islamic Militia had taken control of Mogadishu, and Prime Minister Ali Mohammed Ghedi was seeking to open a dialog with them. Four powerful warlords who had been serving as ministers had been sacked.[1] On 14 June 2006 the last ARPCT stronghold in the south, the town of Jowhar, fell with little resistance to the ICU. Reports had the remaining ARPCT forces fleeing to the east. As of this date the alliance appears near collapse with three warlords having withdrawn and a fourth reported to be considering joining them. The transitional government has approved the intervention of foreign peacekeepers. On 7 July forces in Mogadishu loyal to the last active member of the Alliance, Abdi Qeybdid, surrendered leaving the ICU in control of 99% of the capital.[2]

On July 20, 2006, it was reported by the BBC that a column of 100 Ethiopian military vehicles including armoured personnel carriers had crossed from the Ogaden region of Ethiopia and into Somalia. This followed advances made by Islamic Courts Union forces who had advanced to within 60km of the town of Baidoa. Further reports stated that Ethiopian troops had been seen in uniform on the streets of Baidoa. The Ethiopian government denies its forces have entered Somalia.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Somalia

Battle to Beauty

2006-08-13T13:57:00.000+03:00

Hasarder asked for pictures of the shell art that I mentioned on her blog. Here they are love...
This is one of the most difficult blogs I've ever written.
These are shells from the war in Bosnia. These shells were found all over Sarajevo and turned into artwork for people to purchase. I was a bit hesitant to post these because I don't want to appear to be one of those people who like to collect disgusting things. To me, it is remembrance and I can only hope that the people who make and sell these feel the same way. We must remember the war in the former Yugoslavia. But friends, I have to tell you something very alarming. It is being remembered in bitterness, hate, and rage all over the world. I can only pray that by saying I bought these remnants of the war that I'll remember the tragedy and pray for healing.

I was eating dinner with some friends recently. At the table were two Americans and three Bulgarians. The Americans were women. The Bulgarians were two men and one woman. I suppose the topic of the war in Bosnia came up because I had recently returned from visiting it. These words came out of someone's mouth, "We supported Serbia. We don't like Muslims."

They echo between my ears and the reverberation makes my heart ache, "We supported Serbia. We don't like Muslims."

This calls to my memory a conversation my mother and I had while we were in Sarajevo. We were visiting the brother and his wife of a friend of my mother. We sat in a beautifully renovated apartment on the top floor of a block only a few hundred meters off Sniper Alley. He told us how people say Sarajevo looks so healed. It is so well renovated, remodeled. "Nothing has changed here. Bosnia is ready for war again."

"Bosnia is ready for war again."

When my Bulgarian friends declared their alliance with the Serbian position and their dislike of Muslims, I held my tongue. I couldn't argue with them. I couldn't tell them that the most love I've received in this country is from my Muslim friends and family here. I couldn't tell them that lowering themselves to such base hatred makes them lesser creatures than their own perception of the people who are objects of their low emotions. I couldn't explain how the war in Bosnia was much more complicated than just religious tensions. But it's what I wanted to say.

I watched Hotel Rwanda last night. I had to stop it occasionally and use the food on the stove as an excuse to take a break from the intensity of the film. When it was over I laid on my couch and sobbed. SOBBED. I was 13 years old in 1994.

A 13 year old girl in America can tell you about the private lives of her favorite film and pop stars. She has begun sexually maturing and has likely had a sexual experience if not intercourse. She knows about fashion. She knows how to find friends all over the internet. She knows the latest gossip in Hollywood. She's aware of the president's latest scandal, but nothing of his politics. She may know the name of her state governor, and perhaps what political party he aligns himself with. She probably cannot tell you what a senator is.

All I ever knew of the war in Bosnia was from the Cranberries song, "Sarajevo." I didn't know ANYTHING ANYTHING about Rwanda.

As I laid on my couch last night and sobbed, I cried outloud, "How come I never knew? I was thirteen years old." When the war in Rwanda ended I was thirteen years old and I knew nothing about it. Who's fault is that? My parents? The media? My own? The UN?

It's the world's responsibility to stay aware. To educate each other.

In my elective classes this year, I'll be doing units on genocide. I will include Rwanda, Kosovo, Bosnia, Afghanistan. My students do not know. If you know of any websites with lesson plans on these topics then please email me. If you have any books on these topics which are not terribly difficult to read, please mail them to me (I'll give you my mailing address).

If you have a story WRITE IT!!
If you have a picture SHOW IT!!
If you have a song SING IT!!

MAKE SURE THE WORLD KNOWS!

Mom would kill me...

2006-08-13T13:03:00.000+03:00

But she can't because she's in Tennessee, USA and I am in Razlog, Bulgaria. However there was a time when she was here in Bulgaria. And this is the best picture I have of the two of us together. Neither of us are really very photogenic. This is an example of how good I am at timer pictures. We took this outside the little church that claims to be built in the sixteen hundreds, and offers one piece of evidence that it was actually built in the eleven hundreds.

This little church is in Dobarsko, a tiny village outside my town. I was up there again this past week for an international youth exchange. One evening, I realized that the hills in Dobarsko where, at that moment, the most beautiful place on earth. I can't explain to you how unbelievably breathtaking it was. Perhaps it was a combination of things.

The day had been spent on a "survivor's game" in which we had to search the woods for cards dictating our fate. Each card announced either a food item such as bread or potatoes, or it required us to take a chance. When we chanced we had to face a challenge, generally of some team-building type activity. Succeed and we win a food item. Fail and we must sacrifice a food item or a team member. The element of this game that moved my heart in such a way that the simple beauty of the evening view was astonishing was not the team-building, but the way my student-friends organized and carried out this game so successfully.

I sat on a blue tarp. An American girl sitting with Bulgarians, Italians, Czechs, and Hungarians. All of us on a big blue tarp enjoying the sun and acknowledging the beauty of the valley below and the setting sun.

Perhaps a beautiful thing is more beautiful when the people you would most love to share it with aren't there with you. You simple can't work up the words to describe the twinkling of the villages below and the stars above. The way the sun goes down behind one hill and the full moon shines bright orange from behind the opposite hills. How can I describe that kind of beauty? I can only wish you had been there.

I'm writing you to catch you up on places I've been
You held this letter
probably got excited, but there's nothing else inside it
didn't have a camera by my side this time
hoping I would see the world through both my eyes
maybe I will tell you all about it when I'm
in the mood to lose my way with words
TODAY skies are painted colors of a cowboy cliche'
And strange how clouds that look like mountains in the sky
are next to mountains anyway
Didn't have a camera by my side this time
Hoping I would see the world through both my eyes
Maybe I will tell you all about it when I'm
in the mood to lose my way
but let me say
You should have seen that sunrise with your own eyes
it brought me back to life
You'll be with me next time I go outside
NO more 3x5's
I Guess you had to be there
I Guess you had to be with me
Today I finally overcame
tryin' to fit the world inside a picture frame
Maybe I will tell you all about it when I'm in the mood to
lose my way but let me say
You should have seen that sunrise with your own eyes
it brought me back to life
You'll be with me next time I go outside
no more 3x5's
just no more 3x5's

"3x5" -John Mayer

Dubrovnik and her Islands

2006-08-06T10:45:00.000+03:00

I was so addicted to taking pictures through the city walls. This is the old harbor. Cool.
These are my feet on a boat. This boat took me to three different islands on the coast of Dubrovnik. You can't tell it from this picture, but one of my ankles is fatty swollen from being sprained by a huge klutz!
Dubrovnik city wall from the sea... ohhh, can I tell you how amazing it was to sit on a boat and feel the salt air all over my skin? To be cool and hot at the same time? To feel so refreshed? Perfect.
This is one of the little islands we visited. I can't remember if this is the one on which I laid out for hours or if this is the one where I took a refreshing but quick little hop in the water. Either way, it was nice.

Dubrovnik is Perfect

2006-08-06T10:23:00.000+03:00

The first full day we were there, Mom and I walked the city wall with a little hand speaker that told us about what we could see from each of the twenty something locations. This picture was taken from above the Pile entrance, which is the entrance with the drawbridge, if you've been. It looks out on the Franciscan Church, the main walking street, and at the other end, the city clock tower and the entrance to the old harbor.
Dubrovnik, and I suppose most sea coast towns, has this perfect humidity. It's not like the humidity in the South that suffocates you with moisture. It's a kind of humidity that, when the salt water blows in with the wind, helps your body to cool off. I can't explain it. I've lived on the coast before, but I guess the Pacific and the Adriatic are a bit different.
Mom and I travelled from Sarajevo to Dubrovnik with a college friend, Rachel. She works there and had access to a car. A suburban actually. You can't imagine the looks on the firemen sitting outside as five women drive by in a huge late 90s Suburban. Anyway. We took this big beast down, me and the mom, my friend Rachel, her roommate, and a friend of hers who lives in Mostar (more pics of that sometime). Rachel was going to stay with us in Dubrovnik and the other two were going to have dinner and return to Mostar. Rachel wasn't feeling well, so she returned with the other two. It worked out better, Rae, we had a crummy room, and it was too hot for you. This is the sunset on that first night. We parked above the city wall, above most of the city- which is on a hill. It was a georgious night.
Another picture from the city wall. I just loved how they put decorative or symbolic elements on the outside of the wall. I'm not sure which saint this guy represents, but he is facing the sea. I just thought it was a cool shot.

Meggie and the former Yugoslavia!

2006-07-27T11:36:00.000+03:00

Me and Rachel in Sarajevo, in front of a lovely fountain. The park behind us became Muslim burrial grounds because there were few safe places to bury the dead durring the war. In front of us there is memorialized shell damage on the sidewalk.
At the cemetary in Sarajevo the Muslims, the Orthodox, and even a small patch of Protestant are burried together. This is the place where the the Muslim and the Christian graves come together. This is a huge cemetary and all the gravestones you can see show lives that ended between 1990 and 1996
These are my little feetsies in a river that goes under the old bridge in Mostar, Bosnia. This bridge was destroyed durring the war but rebuilt.
This is the bridge upon which Arch Duke Franz Ferdinand and his wife were assassinated, thus beginning the first world war. In the back ground is an example of the way Sarajevo is a beautiful and tragic desplay of Austro-Hungarian, Communist, and Ottoman (but not shown here) archeticture which has been damaged or destroyed, rebuilt, lived in, died in, but surviving several awful wars.

More later from Dubrovnik and other places along my crazy journey!!

Ohhh vacation

2006-07-20T06:35:00.000+03:00

It's 6:31am in Sofia, Bulgaria. My mother and I are packing up our bags and getting ready to head to the Central Bus Station. From here we will travel to Niche, Serbia. At 9pm we will leave Niche and head to Sarajevo, Bosnia. I am beyond excited to see this city recently ravaged by a war I know little about. A college friend who now lives in the city will pick us up at the bus station at 7am tomorrow, when we are scheduled to arrive. On Saturday we will head to Dubrovnik, Croatia and return to Sarajevo on Monday evening. Again, excited is not a strong enough word to express my feelings about seeing this city rich with history and culture. I hope to visit some of the islands there, and enjoy the beauty of the Adriatic Sea.

Pictures to follow...

ahh summer

2006-07-05T13:29:00.000+03:00

Hoorah for summer! I love it. It's simply georgeous! I slept in a bit, went to a colleagues for coffee and cherries. The most pressing thing on my schedule today is to cheer on France at ten pm with some friends. This time last year however, well... нищо общо nothing in common.

Things I love about my life right now:
I love my girlfriends! I love that, while last year I had people to support me, and would not trade that friendship for the world, they have all evolved and changed and now I have some amazing new friendships.

I love my colleagues! I love that I can count on my counterpart, best bulgofriend, colleague, and comraid in Razlogshki foreignness to help me, have fun with me, try new and silly things with me, cry with me, be excited for me, support me, and vice versa!! And I am so happy that after a year, I have finally been invited to a colleague's house, other than Yulia's (my CP) for na gosti!

I love new friends! I'll tell you three stories about new friends:
1) One Saturday night, Meggi went out in BigCity with her girlfriends and made a new friend. Another Saturday night she went out with newfriend in BigCity and met his old friends. Now Meggi has more friends!
2) One time Meggi went to a little town to be a "good PCV" and help the new teachers. She made five new friends there. Later she went to a very nice conference and met more new teachers. Later, when the new teachers promised to be good and faithful Peace Corps Volunteers, Meggi went out with some new teachers and some old teachers and some older teachers who had fulfilled their promises and were going home. She got stuck in a hail storm. She got so very wet in the rain that she had to wring out her skirt. She also had bruises on her little arms from the big mean hail stones. But it was a very fun night and a very exciting way to spend one's first or last night as a Peace Corps Volunteer.
3) One time Meggi went to BigCity to see an older teacher who was leaving Peace Corps. She hung out with the PCV who lives in BigCity and a Brit who leaves in a nearby village. She also hung out with newfriend. They all had a lot of fun together and even though older teacher is gone to more beautiful and peaceful places, Meggi is happy for her. It's okay because they got stranded in the hail together a few days later with out even planning to see each other! Now the village Brit is Meggi's new friend too!

I love cherry season!

I love my mom who will be here in 8 days!

I love watching soccer! er, football! er, european football!

I love wearing skirts and not being cold!

I love warm breezes!

I love that I used the system and the system worked for once! (thanks boss)

I love bacon and friend balls of mashed potatoes at the "Irish Pub" even though there's nothing Irish about the pub and the bacon is just thin strips of ham. It's still tasty!

Kay, that's all for today...

Nicole gets her Urban cowboy

2006-06-26T19:54:00.000+03:00

Nicole gets her Urban cowboy

"Kidman has said she and Urban will set up home in Nashville when they return to the United States.

"'I've moved to Tennessee for my personal life,' she said last week. 'It's nice.'"

Maybe I'm a total sell out, but I'm excited about this new addition to the Nashville community. I don't know how Nashville thinks about it however. Perhaps because I think she's an amazing actress with her classic style. Perhaps it's because she has done two pieces with Baz Luhrmann (Moulin Rouge! and the Chanel perfume ad). Perhaps because she seems to be an actress who picks films that please her, not for the numbers (like Dogville). Or perhaps because she's just so dern pretty! **Note to all Kidman/Luhrmann fans, according to IMDb.com, the two are supposed to work on a film costarring Hugh Jackman! Production is supposed to start in Febuary of '07.

But, I'm not all promoting that yucky girl Paris Hilton's video. Sorry Lucia, but I don't see the beauty in that clip. I will say it's cool that she's got sand on her face. It's just too cliche, the whole beach scene thing. Then she tries to dance? Gimme a break! It reminds me of the JLo clip for "Control Myself" where she jumps up on whats-his-name in a not sexy way. And WHAT is that white thing she's wearing (paris, not JLo)? uck! Okay, I'm about to start criticizing Madonna's new clip, so I feel pretty confident I'm not a sell out.

A Glossary of Southern Accents

2006-06-25T13:20:00.000+03:00

A Glossary of Southern Accents

In my love of dialects, when I happened upon this site (thanks Carin) I just HAD to post it. The author makes the very good point that speaking in a dialect does not indicate ignorance of standard rules of grammar, but an adherance to an extra set. So in a way, we dialectual speakers are dually linguistically talented!

Cheers to dialects, banski, razlogshki, southern, northern, great lakes, whatevs!

Cheers to Personal Evolution!

2006-06-23T18:40:00.000+03:00

I had the very great pleasure of organizing a girls' weekend recently. I love these weekends for many reasons including but not limited to: an excuse to pamper myself a bit, the fabulous company of friends, the opportunity to make new friends, good times at the disco, a nice hotel bed for not too many leva. So, my favorite of those reasons is either the disco or the new friends. I invited every woman in my group of B17s (some 20+ ladies). There were 11 of us in Blagoevgrad. I love these chances to break up from our comfortable groups (not cliques, we're not that bad) and make some new relationships.

I made a special effort to invite one person because I don't really know her and because I (with some help) recently made her feel very uncomfortable and I felt bad. Am I glad she came! We had fun and I got the chance to see a person without the shading of previous ideas.

One thing about Peace Corps is that stagnancy is not very prominent. People come and go constantly. We make friends from our group, groups before us, groups after us. They go home and leave us in tears. For some of us our best friendships get torn in two and suddenly our "group" is dissolved. Some of us have groups that have dwindled to nothing. Some people made friendships that either burnt bridges or caused bridges to never get built in the first place. I'm proud of people who step up and make new relationships rather than dwelling in the one of two that are left. I am surely grateful for the evolution of my friendships. Since I've been in PC Bulgaria I have gained and lost friends, but all the while learning and growing. I guess that's what it really is all about.

Special Day!

2006-06-09T14:49:00.000+03:00

The daily poem from About.com today is "Ode on a Grecian Urn" by John Keats. I love this poem.

"Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard/ Are sweeter" I love this line. Why are unheard melodies sweeter? Because they are what you want them to be. Your memory of the song, the picture, the event can be better than the reality of it because it is yourse to recreate. That's the beauty of the Romantics.

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,--that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

I also love the last five lines of this poem. It seems the speaker is telling us the beauty of these images will remain regardless of how the problems of the world grow, despite how we change, that beauty is forever ingrained in time. The idea that beauty is in our memory is contrasted with the permanence of beauty. Is beauty in the eye of the beholder? Or is beauty truth? What then is truth? Hmmm lovely questions to help you implode your own head! Ah the beauty of poetry.

what a cutie!

2006-06-06T23:36:00.000+03:00

I just want to remind everyone what an adorible little thing my little sis is! Hey laynie, that first pic with the bunch of you standing in a line at the parthanon? I stand just like that too, like i'm about to fall forward.

I went to the gym for the first time since SEPTEMBER!! That was yesterday. I'm so sore tonight. I'm afraid of how sore I'll be tomorrow!

Yahoo! Photos - luciachan03's Photos - IMG_0081

2006-06-04T20:24:00.000+03:00

Yahoo! Photos - luciachan03's Photos - greasy kiss link to the afore mentioned greasy kiss by a Swiss rugby player.

Yahoo! Photos - luciachan03's Photos - Maegen and Chris Adventures in Sofia

2006-06-04T20:18:00.000+03:00

Yahoo! Photos - luciachan03's Photos - Maegen and Chris Adventures in Sofia One time Maegen (who was very sick and tired) met Lucia (who was very sad) in Sofia. To make each other feel better they bought a balloon bunny, named it Chris, and captured their adventures with him on digital eternity. enjoy

A little excursion...

2006-06-04T18:20:00.000+03:00

I went on a bit of an excursion with Yulia's class of 5th graders, another 5th grade class, and a class of 6th graders. We visited Rupite, which was were a fortune teller lived and had a church constructed. This is the bell tower which is a seperate building
This is the church at Rupite. The art work at the church is incredibly unique. Normally the front of an orthodox church has icons of the 12 disciples- of their bust only. This church had 6 huge icons in front, two of which were women. I bought a postcard of the inside (since you can't take pics), so maybe I'll scan that and post it someday.

There are hot spring pools at Rupite as well. It is posted that the tempurature is 75 degrees Celsius. It felt pretty warm, but I don't know if it was 75C. It was pretty neat looking as the wind blew the steam across the grass.

Learning to teach is FUN!

2006-06-04T17:41:00.000+03:00

This is me, Lucia, and Jessie at the USAID training event we went to in Sofia. I had the chance to get to know Jessie and we had an extra good time! Plus the good food didn't hurt!
At this very good training event, I had the chance to catch up with my pal Lincoln. He had the pleasure of watching the girls play a rowdy game of phase 10, as well as a snooze on my 4 star hotel room floor.
This is my favorite pic! We were at an rugby afterparty in Sofia. One guy from the swiss team came over and gave me a leg of some animal. I think Lucia has a pic of the greasy kiss I received along with the leg. (note *When I didn't eat the leg he took it back. jerky)

BLACKMAIL!

2006-05-27T18:11:00.000+03:00

If I were a nicer teacher or PCV, I wouldn't show you this. If I were a meaner teacher or PCV, I'd have made a better clip and used it as blackmail against the three PCVs/former PCVs (name them and you get kudos from me!)

I've been a bit bored today so I'm looking at pictures. I had forgotten I had taken this clip, so it was a refreshing laugh when saw it. I love my students, they crack me up. I just don't so much like teaching them.

Also seen on this clip are Bulgarians from Blagoevgrad, Czechs (including one who I had a bit of a crush worthy of immature peanut tossing and 4 am bootie dancing...), and a few Italians. And those big green things? Name tags in the form of clovers. It was St. Patrick's day.

God help these knees

2006-05-25T17:10:00.000+03:00

Some fun pics of me and my counterpart! As you may remember, Yulia is a bit of a fearless soul. She's the one who decided to teach herself to ski (there are pics somewhere on this blog). We went to a nearby village, Bachevo, today to go horseback riding.

My counterpart, among other people, have decided that it's time I had a Bulgarian boyfriend. I've never been one for arranged hook-ups. So I laughed at meeting "sporty gordy," the slightly overweight ski teacher or "mountain rescuer" who's now a security guard and aspiring dump truck businessman. Are you impressed? Are you shocked that I laugh these descriptions off? I'll say one thing for most Bulgarians: they are honest, no sugarcoating here! So my CP decided that this guy is just what I need... hm.

I realized in these two arranged meetings I've had with Mr. Volleyball that I allow myself to be overshadowed. Being with my CP today and the other night at dinner with several of her husband's friends I realize how inadequate my Bulgarian is and wander of into my own world. I can have a fun conversation with one Bulgarian, or when there are other people with about my level of Bulgarian, but I CANNOT keep up with Bulgarians. So I feel like I'm not really myself which isn't fair to me, but what can I do? Study Bulgarian a bit more! and I guess if people really want to get to know me, they'll try to keep the conversation at my level. I can't blame them, really. No one wants to dumb it down for the foreigner.

Anyway, here's what I learned today...

1. horseback riding is not easy
2. you have to keep your knees in an unnatural and nearly unGodly position.
3. horses sweat and get your pants wet, which is gross.
4. horses are like children, you have to tell them exactly what you want them to do. They do not understand inuendo and they only understand body language which directly effects them (i.e. pulls their head or hurts their sides).
5. Someone who does not speak your language often makes a bad 'blind date"

25 NEW HIV CASES REGISTERED IN BULGARIA

2006-05-22T10:17:00.000+03:00

25 NEW HIV CASES REGISTERED IN BULGARIA - Press Review news

What struck me about this article is the fact that out of 25 new reported cases of HIV only 4 were women. Why is that number so low? Is it normal for less than 25% of HIV cases to be female? What is the male to female ratio of testing? My guess is a lot more men are getting tested. Why is that? I wonder how the HIV rate in Bulgaria stacks up against other countries, as far as reported infections per year per capita. I wonder how many of these people with HIV were having using condoms, and how many were taught how to use a condom. I wonder if 9% is a bit high for the percentage of HIV cases contracted through blood transfusion.

just some questions i'll probably not answer, but strike me as urgent questions for people living in Bulgaria.

Fire in the Sky

2006-05-17T21:21:00.000+03:00

The best place in Bulgaria to experience a thunder storm is here in Razlog. There's something about hearing thunder crash off the mountain and roll around in the bowl of a valley you live in. It starts on your left and goes to the right, it slowly rolls from one side and back to the other.

And the lightning is unbelievable. In the dusk of sunset a flash lights up the sky like the noon day sun. After that you're blinded and all the sky is black. By the time the thunder rolls through your eyes have adjusted and perhaps the sky is a slightly brighter shade of sunset blue.

My summer is begining with thunderstorms very similar to the way last summer ended. It makes me think about the time that elapsed inbetween- from last spring to the end of summer - from the end of summer to this springish season. All the things in between. Makes me wonder about a lot of things.

Sorry if this is a bit too opinionated... i need to rage every now and again

2006-05-12T16:25:00.000+03:00

I want to make a few announcements:

I Have the Best Baba Ever!
That may be an exaggeration, but it was incredibly nice to see a pot sitting infront of my door when I came home incredibly exhausted after a long day and a long week! Baba Zorka makes the best food, and her bean soup is NO exception. Having finished up my SPA grant proposal (Small Project Assistance), it was really nice to not have to make something to eat. Speaking of which, let's talk about this SPA thing... I'm not going to say it's been fun. I won't say I did a very good job at it. But it's been a learning experience. If my proposal is not granted, I'll still be glad that I've done it. One of my goals in Peace Corps was to gain some experience in grant writing, as I'd like to end up in the non-profit sector one day, and I realize this will be very useful experience. It's all about learning.

I'm no Idiot, Lemme make my own dern opinions!!
I still haven't read The Di Vinci Code, but I intend to. Further more, I'm incredibly excited to see the movie (I'm a big Paul Bettany fan). I believe two facts: I am an intelligent human being capable of deciding what it I believe is true (note: I'm not saying what I believe is true for me, but True), reading is good for me. NOW, I don't think that it's bad to read things that are not true, I'll even extend that to reading things that are the opposite of what I believe is true. For example, I think reading fantasy novels are not bad... Let me expound:

Fairytales and stories of magic, I believe, are explanations of something within our cultural subconscious. They symbolically address some common problem. They speak to common nature. They teach us to see beyond the surface (the frog prince), to take chances against evil (hansel and gretel), or that the righteous may suffer persecution (snow white). Many ancient and medieval fairytales tell the hearers, now readers, to listen to parents, the value of a woman's sexual purity, or that the greatest reward comes from hard work, ingenuity, and commitment.

I can offer two explanations why I have no qualms with magic in literature and stories. First, the subconscious is an unfathomable mystery which is easier explained in magic. We use a vehicle which is also unexplainable, so much so that we do not believe it, but through this vehicle arrive at an understanding of both unfathomables. Second, to a child, anything beyond understanding is magic. The microwave oven, a science far beyond the mind of a four-year-old, is a magical machine capable of inflating the paperbag into a universe of buttery goodness OR causing your fillings to explode if you're too close. The television set is a show put on specially fo you. A rainbow is a special gift from God. The tooth fairy delivers us money for our fallen teeth. A child left to his own imagination will develop a magical explanation because he cannot conceive of the scientific explanation.

We adults use magic as an easier way to explain tough concepts. We reward children for their bravery through the trauma of losing a tooth with a dollar from the "tooth fairy." We find it easier to explain the concept of a bunny and painted eggs than the persecution, crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ to our innocent children. Look at children's books, children's movies, children's TV shows! They all have an element of the beyond-believable, the supernatural. Not because children have teensy attention spans which must be catered to with techno-color magical bunnies, but because it's on their level, and easier to understand. (internet and game console games are what we do for a child's short attention span)

That said, considering the generally accepted fact that children are pure at heart and are slowly tainted by the world and its foulness, is it really such a bad thing to return to learning like they do? In unpretentious ways?

And another thing. Fine if you want to forbid anything magical or fairytale-ish from your house. But let's be even and fair about it. Please, throw out your Disney movies, you Tolkein books or movies, your PS2 games, you books of nursery rhymes, anything Harry Potter of from the Nickolodeon channel, and any of C.S. Lewis' fiction. Let's just go ahead and forbid the creative altogether.

So what does that have to do with anything? Well, I recently googled "Di Vinci Code" so I could find out when it will come out in Europe. I happened upon a web site offering articles, videos, and booklets on going behind the code and revealing the truth. I'm not very up-to-date with the news, but has Dan Brown claimed that this novel is a work of non-fiction? What's it's Dewey decimal code? Does it start with a number or a letter? I don't know anyone who calls this book a masterpiece of research and detective skill.

I don't think it's such a bad thing that the Church sees something that it disagrees with and takes a firm opinion on it. But this whole Di Vinci Code thing, like the anti-Harry Potter fanatics just doesn't make sense to me. Why would you suggest we can't tell fiction from fact? Why is it a bad thing for me to enjoy things beyond reality? And most importantly,

CHURCH!! HOW MUCH MONEY HAVE YOU SPENT TEACHING AMERICA WHAT BOOKS NOT TO READ, WHICH MOVIES TO SEE OR NOT SEE, AND WHAT MUSIC TO LISTEN TO OR NOT LISTEN TO? and how does that compare with the amount of money you provide to help people have water, food, jobs, health care, literacy, safe homes, education? Why are babies dying of AIDS? How come children kilometers to sleep so they aren't kidnapped? Why are children left in rotten orphanages? Why are children trafficked like last winters potatoes to countries all around the world with a wink and a shrug by governments for the pleasure of sexual deviants around the world? WHY ARE CHILDREN FORCED INTO PROSTITUTION? WAR? PESTILENCE? DISEASE? poverty? invisibility?

Take another look at the "Christian industries." Music, books, movies. They make so much money because we feel more righteous by having Kincade pillows on our overstuffed couches and promises of wealth on our coffee cups and key rings. Listening to God's promises make us feel holier when we can jam to them in our loaded Expedition with the Jesus fish on the back bumper. I'm not saying any of these things are bad, but America, don't just sit there are feel pretty and holy in your opulence. Make a friggin difference and stop wasting air and dollars while you tell me which books not to read. As you tell us what Jesus did not do, I'll try showing what Jesus did.

"Preach the gospel, and if necessary use words." attributed to St. Francis of Assisi.

been a long time

2006-05-08T10:56:00.000+03:00

I suppose I should be ashamed to admit this, but it's been a long time since I've seen something that hurt my heart to the point that I cried. I mean something unjust, tragic, and not directly related to me.

My sister recently participated in something I had not heard about called "Global Night Commute" which was an effort by Invisible Children to raise awareness about children in Uganda who because of war and acts of terrorism must walk to a safe place every evening to sleep. This is the only way they avoid the terrorist acts of kidnapping and murder that are results of war in their region.

It's sad. I recently got an email about babies. BABIES. b.a.b.i.e.s. being raped in South Africa by multiple men because of the myth that AIDS can be cured by having sex with a virgin, the younger the better. *spits on the floor in disgust* I am incredibly not qualified but this is one of those moments where part of me wishes I was doing some sort of community health education program. Not that we don't have problems here.

Oh, there are health problems here. But peoples lives are relatively uneffected so, I suppose, they don't see the urgent need to raise awareness on these topics. Topics like, yes Bulgaria, AIDS does exist here, sex education, why smoking really is bad for you, trafficking in persons, why spaying and nuetering stray animals is a good thing and not infringing on the rights of animals.

Peace Corps Bulgaria does touch on these topics. More than touch really. Trafficking in persons is a large element of what we are expected to work on as PCVs, and in this we are given the opportunity to comment on many inclusive subjects. Drugs, alcohol, responsible sexual habits, STDs are all subjects which can effect or are effected by the industry of human trafficking.

I don't really know why I'm rambling about either of these two topics. Have a good day.

Tired Sore Confused

2006-05-07T15:07:00.000+03:00

I just returned from two three cold days and two frigid nights in the mountains. The youth group I work with (my students who are privileged enough to see a different side of me) had a training in the mountains on "Team Building." This is a good topic since team work is not a well practiced concept in Bulgaria. However, team work really wasn't much of what they worked on. It was more of an exploration into the goals of the organization, which is also a good thing. And, it does help build the team, since it shows them the common goal toward which they are working.

I have mentioned before that there is a conflict between this organizations and the teachers/admin at my school. I foresee a development in this conflict... There will be three different exchanges that the kids will go on. Three different countries. Three different sets of absences. Three times our director will get the raw end of severals teachers' anger. I fear I will be in the middle. We got the opportunity to talk about this problem. While it raised the blood pressure of some to potentially lethal levels, it was a productive and constructive discussion. I hope.

I hope. I may be speaking too soon.

I discovered exactly how fickle I am. At one point in this particular conversation I said to myself, "How can I work in this situation? Stuck between two groups who adamantly refuse to cooperate? That's it, I quit!" Only minutes later when the argument progressed I found myself thinking, "Mmhm, that's right! See, there's some productive thinking! I can't WAIT till we do that!" huh? Fickle!

It turns out spring in Razlog is very much like fall. It's colorful. Very cold at night. Chilly in the mornings and evenings. There are a few quite pleasant hours of warmth when the sunshines. And the thunderstorms are very intense. I love thunderstorms generally. But we had at least one hearty thunderstorm a week at the beginning of the fall, and spring looks about the same. These things get annoying.

At any rate... I spent the weekend with this group of students. I'm exhausted of Bulgarian only. I'm tired of being cold. Most importantly, I'm tired of this teeter-totter where I see the potential of something great and then see it beaten to a pulp, smashed to shreds with a meat tenderizer, or smeared with rot and left in the searing sun to decompose. I try to be realistic- to balance the positive and the negative,- to balance my idealism, pessimism, and optimism. I find this so incredibly tiring. It's a waiting game. It's a roller coaster.

Here's the cycle: I see something fabulously bursting with potential. I find interested parties. It proceeds and dies from one of two deaths: 1) Interested parties loose interest and/or motivation and/or 2) Opposition firmly kills said potential. I then plummet into a pit of frustration and unproductive thoughts (yeah, I know it's unproductive. Isn't that what I just said?). This pit is where I linger until something very happy draws me out. Each time I plummet into the pit, I lose parts of myself. This loss creates a type of lightness which increases the speed with which I ascend and descend out of the pit, making each more difficult and causing me to lose more of myself.

Don't you see? After another year there will be nothing left? I will be nothing more than a shell of me being tossed back and forth like a ping pong ball.

Whatevs, I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

Changes in Links
I made a few changes to my links. I took off a couple PCVs who've returned to America. Maybe I'll make an RPCV section after a while. I've added a few links that are interesting to me... three blogs that are concerned with local issues. LaVergne, the town in which my permanant residence is currently located; Smyrna, the town next to that; and Del Norte County, the county in which I was born, which I believe has some of the most beautiful landscapes in North American (not exaggerating - *Redwood National Park*), is home to a large chunk of my extended family, and one of the hardest places to live in California I believe. Just so ya know.

questions

2006-05-01T22:28:00.000+03:00

I am SO tired of size 12 Times New Roman font.  I am tired of manipulating budgets.  I am tired of goals, objectives, aims, цели, подцели, blablabla.  What I’m trying to say is that I’m tired of SPA (Small Project Assistance).  Mostly because I don’t feel like it’s really fulfilling any of its purposes.  Now, you may ask if I actually mean my purposes.  I do not.  My purpose is to help the school, as my community, meet its stated needs.  Anyway, I don’t feel very good about the whole thing and it makes me ask some questions…

I know most of the PCVs in my group are asking these same questions.  We are asking if we are content and most of us hear a resounding “НЕ!!!”  We are asking if we are being the best PCVs we can be, the best English teachers, the best members of our communities.  We are reevaluating the professional standards and our program goals.

April 25th marked one year of my life- Bulgarish style.  I could review all the highs and lows of the last year.  I could also review all the things I’ve missed out on at home.  I could list my failures or my feats.  I could recite the things I’ve learned and choices I will not remake next year.  That would take such a long time.  I’ll tell you simply that since I moved to Razlog last July, I am in a much healthier place, mentally.  That doesn’t mean I’m happy, or even content.  That doesn’t even mean I’m sure being here is the right thing for PC Bulgaria and for my school.  It simply means that I’m not on the edge of a breakdown.  Not this week.  Two weeks ago I was.  Two weeks ago I was ready to take the next flight to BNA!

Here is my question for the week:  I am not a good teacher.  I am not a good English teacher.  I could perhaps teach students literature or poetry.  I could teach something that in and of itself contains inspiration or beauty.  English grammar with limited resources and so few sessions is beyond difficult for me.  I’m at the point to which I do not even attempt to look like a teacher.  I am clearly not a Bulgarian teacher, and I never claimed to be an American teacher.  I can’t make anyone learn.  I’m beginning to wonder if it is enough to be friends with my students.  Their English is incredible, and their teachers do much better at teaching them than I do.  Maybe I can just expand their horizons somehow.

But is that enough?  Being friends with several Bulgarian teenagers?  Playing language games with rowdy 8th graders?  I don’t know.  When I consider all that I have missed in America, in my family, I think it’s not.  When I remember all the amazing highs and tough but enlightening lows of the last year, I understand that I am a better person and would not change that.  Is my own personal change worth it?  Worth being a crummy teacher, a miserably cold winter, a year of memories made with out me?  That is the question on my heart these days.

questions

2006-05-01T22:27:00.000+03:00

A tough reminder

2006-04-20T22:41:00.000+03:00

Sometimes being a Peace Corps Volunteer rocks. Sometimes you experience some of the best things. These are some of my students, some of my kids. They are inspiring in their discipline and wisdom. Not all of them, and not all the time. Their ability to have fun and shake their lump-bumps is astounding. Their discipline in learning English is inversely proportionate to their discipline and devotion to class. They stand up to big challenges and are devoted to their community. They remind me why I'm a volunteer.

Sometimes being a Peace Corps Volunteer is a painful and bitter experience. Sometimes the good is vastly out weighed by the bad and the ugly (also the name of a game I recently played in some of my classes). Sometimes the things I know I'm missing are poignant ghosts of memories never to happen and are no where near as important as the moments I wish I could erase from each cell in my brain. Sometimes the good things up and walk away.

A lot of people are talking about the new policies Peace Corps Bulgaria are talking about inacting which would restrict our travel. I won't comment on those, especially considering I don't know exactly what they are yet. But I will say that if it were not for my travels and the travels of other PCVs to me, I would have really lost my mind a long time ago, probably sometime in those first lonely months when I had nothing to do no matter how hard I tried. But I'm still here. Thank God, I now have an active social life here in town. I do stuff with my kids, but social events with my friends come before my kids. And somewhere in there I fit in my PCV friends. Truth be told, my PCV friends... well I feel like I neglect them frequently. To me, friendship is such an essential element of life, particularly our Bulgarish lives. When your support fails you, life is tough. I hate feeling like I should be helping someone and I'm not. Right now, I feel as though I should visit several of my friends who've had horrible months. But I'm not. I'm going to celebrate Easter in the town I consider my Bulgarian birth place. I'm opting for the cultural route instead of "American time."

Thankfully, like some of my ultimate favorite experiences (PST, Dobarsko, the pig kill, and nights at Fenera) can include both American and Bulgarian culture. Isn't that what it's really all about anyway?

meggie hurt, meggie hurt baaaaaddddd

2006-04-10T21:09:00.000+03:00

I don’t know where to start. I feel like I’m floating in a world of discomfort. It’s not too dreadfully painful, but it’s far from pleasant. I don’t want to write a long list of complaints. Suffice it to say, with all of the other mitigating factors, my sitemates left Razlog this morning never to return. I sobbed with all of Harmonie’s high schoolers last night. Today, I was standing in the front lawn at the PC office in Sofia. I saw them get out of a taxi and started to cry. We all had work at the office today, so I ran into them several times. It was really hard. Every time I saw either of them… tears. Many tears.

It’s a tragedy whenever anyone leaves Peace Corps early. For stupid reasons, like not being able to follow simple rules. For getting caught up in a mess of other people’s judgment issues. For medical reasons. For problems adjusting. For whatever reason. It’s a loss to the staff, the host organization (even if they don’t realize it!), to the other volunteers with whom relationships have been built. I know it happens. It’s just never hit home so hard. These people came into my life and affected it. They provided encouragement, comfort, support, resources, laughs, and dinner buddies. They are volunteers that have reinforced Peace Corps’ good name in Bulgaria, and in other countries, for the work they have done here. What Harmonie has done with the kids here gives me hope that I too will be able to make it and make a small difference on some lives.

Spring Break and other random tidbits

2006-04-09T00:24:00.000+03:00

Spring break recap:  Friday:  Fun times evening with Elena and Razlogshki friends.  Saturday:  Day in Blagoevgrad including spa treatments.  Dinner in Bgrad.  Dancing till my bootie aches.  Note:  Blagoevgrad is extra fun!  But if you really like to dance with your girls, sometimes the guys are creeped out and just stare at you.  Uch, Creepy.  Sunday- Tuesday:  Moving on, Becca & Krichim fammo times.  Got sick again.  Get duners and antibiotics and coffee at the café/bar with the hottest dudes in Plovdiv.  Wednesday:  Take the night train w/ Becca to Varna, watch the sun come up on the beach, eat McDonalds for breakfast, meander around Varna, catch up with Andy! See Carin for the first time in ages ;)  Thursday:  Play tourist in Varna (Archeological Museum and dolphin café, make a dinner for EVER!  Friday:  Get tex-mex with Celche, shop (hoodie, ring, and sweet khakis), get Turkish with the group.  Randomness.  Get on train.  Saturday: Splurged for the sleeper cart.  Arrive in Sofia.  Freshen up and dump stuff at the PC Office.  Meet Lucia for a soy latte, a very long walk around Sofia, with Chris, the 2leva bunny (shhh, it’s a deer).  Meet Ethan for Vietnamese that doesn’t exist, Indian works well too.  Make it back to the log in one, weak and exhausted and not too healthy piece.

That’s the summery.  I’ll try to write some of the random stories that made it an exceptionally awesome week.  But here are some of the essentials:

I love adding “iz” in the middle of words.  So “Hot Spot” a swanky over priced store becomes, “hizzle spizzle.”  How swanky are you now??  This becomes exceptionally funny when you put Celia and I together because we are pretty funny together.  Or obnoxious.  You decide.

Lucia was bumming today, and I was feeling pretty sickly.  But we say animal balloons.  Lucia offered to buy the balloon if I carried it around all day.  We decided to name it Chris.  Chris and I took pictures doing silly things like being frightened of a stuffed hawk, being sad we can’t go to the J-Lo concert, contemplatively reading a book titled “Porn,” and joining Ethan to gawk at the deer (statues) in the park.  We had fun.

I love to laugh.  Ha ha ha ha ha (insert Mary Poppins song here).  It was just so good to be with people who make me laugh.  I wish I had these people around me more often.  As one group of PCVs is getting ready to leave, and another is nearly here, I’m frightened at the prospect of being separated from my friends.

My mom’s brought up the idea of going into non-profit/social work again.  Grrrrr…  I wish I had the slightest clue.  I always say I could never see myself living there, but it’s always the first place I think of when I think of going into social work.  I just don’t know exactly what I would do.  What about literacy.  I wonder what the literacy rate is for Del Norte County, California.  What if I started/worked for a literacy foundation-NPO?  That covers the linguistic and the social work.  Ack, starting and or running an NPO?  Poor forever in California?  Or dear…  I have 15 months left to figure it out.  And of course, I’ll have to get my MA first.  Shew, at least there’s that.

I clearly need to rest.  Oh, one more thing.  I was listening to Johnny Cash’s “American IV” on my way home from the bus station today.  You who’ve been to my lovely town know that my street runs along a cute little river.  It’s been warmer lately, and the recent melt has caused the water lever to rise and the speed to pick up.  As I was walking this road, “Bridge over troubled water” came on.  I choked up thinking about the people who would be there for me if I needed them, and the people who I like to think I help support.  It’s cheesy but yes, “when evening falls so hard, I’ll comfort you.  I’ll take your part when darkness comes.  Thank God for friends and family, antibiotics and decongestants.

Devilish Desire

2006-03-30T20:17:00.000+03:00

Or maybe it's devil's desire. I don't know. But it's my favorite song right now. Oh, and it's chalga. That, "bella ciao," "habibi," and "obicham te." So, I'm kind of in a chalgatastic/ "dance camp" (as celia put it) mood. You know, I was at the exchange in Dobarsko. There were a few theme songs. Celia went crazy for "Habibi." I got into "Dqvulsko Jelanie." Me, Miro (one of my 11b students), and Celia busted our vocal chords several times to "Barbie Girl." I shoved my way into the Romanian dance circle on every round of that Romaie song. Those were some seriously good times. I rolled my eyes at my students when they said they were "heavy" with missing their new friends. I miss the good times. And the productivity of it. Everything was intense. I know it's not always healthy, but that is the way I prefer it.

Ne znaesh - Malina and AzisThis is one of my favorite BG songs. "you don't know how i've waited, you don't know how i've cried." blablabla.

So, I'll be out of town again. I'm on SPRING BREAK!!! I'm going to Blagoevgrad, Plovdiv, Krichim, Varna, Sofia, Etropole, Sofia, and back to Razlog. And only in 10 days! Yes, I can do this. It's called taking the night train.

I had a crazy day at school today.
AND I LOVED IT! What's up with that?? I took two classes for my CP while she's in Italy on the EU's dime.

My class with what one of my colleagues considers to be the laziest group in school went pretty well. My schedule changed so I had them second instead of first and second. This meant I got to sleep in, and they got to wake up with some other teacher.

I watched presentations by one of the 8th grade groups. I'll never understand why teachers don't care that students copy and paste all of their information from websites. There were words that these guys KAAAHLEEEEEEERLY don't know! but whatevs.

I took my CPs 11v class. We just chatted about PC, me, America, and them. The basic stuff. What do you want to study, blablabla. It was a nice change.

I also took my CPs 6th grade class. These guys were SOOOO cute. I've never seen a sweeter bunch of kids. EVER! (at least not here in Bulgaria). It was so much fun.

I had my SIPs today. Which are usually a joke because welllll I don't have regular attendance, the kids don't take them seriously, and frankly, I'm not very motivated to teach a bunch of half-interested kids. Today with my 8v class, we started by picking an object and writing about it as if we were it. Then, picking another object and writing about it as if we were it, but from our beginnings. Ex: I started in a cow. Then one beautiful day someone put my in a bottle. Then you drink me. What am I? I'm serious, that's what one of my girls came up with. So, after that and a couple rounds of 20 questions (we were a car and a desk for these), I called it a day with my 8th grader-girls and got ready for my 9b SIP. I had decided it was time for a change. The weather was beautiful (a B*E*A*UUUUUtiful) day. When I met them in the hallway they asked if we would go to the conference room or their classroom. When I told them neither, let's go have coffee, their faces lit up! So we sat and had coffee outside for an hour plus and talked. About spring break, summer, my life, their lives. Good times. I'm reckoning on doing the same with my 10th graders tomorrow.

I'm also going to a meeting my students (and my sitemate's youth group) are having tomorrow. I am going to try to be involved with what they do with out irritating my admin and colleagues. So basically, don't take time off to trek around Europe with them. But come summer... I'M IN! whatevs.

I've officially spent too much time on the internet today. But I got so wrapped up in chalga clips!! what is a girl to do??

Wow, what a day!

2006-03-28T13:17:00.000+03:00

Tuesdays are normally the days I want to crawl back into bed and pretend don't exist. I generally have 5 classes. Two are with my 8a class, which is becoming increasingly difficult and unpleasant. I also have a class with 8b, 11b, and 10b. These are class groups that I see only once a week, making it a difficult experience for all of us. First period I have 11b. This is a dreadful class for me because these guys never want to do ANYTHING! But today, I seriously planned two lessons for them. I did this for two reasons, first, I wasn't sure if they'd already done one of them before, and second, I thought it would be more fun if they got to pick their lesson. Some of the students in this class were at the exchange with me, AND, some of the talker-boys were not at school today (boooo sad).

Class went really well today. For one reason, several of them are now interested me as a breathing person and not some strange thing that gets up and tries to interact with them. Another reason I was pleased is because the lesson seemed to go well, except for the one kid (who will be receiving a big fat dvoika) who slept the whole period. The book had a discussion exercise on birth order related questions. So I split them up into groups based on oldest or youngest (not one of them was an only child or had more than one sibling) and had them answer the questions. They hate speaking in front of the whole class, so fine, I'll work with that. They had to answer the questions, but I had to see each answer in a different handwriting. Not fool-proof I know, but I was their supervising. The point was to get them all working and it worked! I walked around and talked with them. I was in such a good mood when I left that class. I think that's only happened once before, but that's a different story... yeah! Score one for me!

Um, my 10b class was taken over by their class teacher so they could rehearse for the May 5th celebration. So I got to chat with some of those kiddos, and didn't have to try to teach them at all. One of my kids from the exchange said, "When are we going to hang out again? I miss those times." AHHHHhhhh, how sweet. I told him whenever he invites me, we can go chill.

The other classes where controlled chaos at best. But whatevs. You win some you lose some right?

On the down side, my sinuses are going berserk-o! I've been having those crazy hacking fits. Not cool!

More on the up side: **I may be helping with a summer camp here in the logche-- PCVs, please keep your eyes/ears out for this. I may be recruiting help!! ** It's crazy warm here and I'm a bit sad I don't have anyone with whom to go sit outside and have a cool drinkche. ** Three more school days till spring break! and I don't have any classes scheduled tomorrow, but it may get reworked, since a couple teachers are gone. NO BIG--- SPRING BREAK!!

That's it for now. oh, one more thing... it's almost tsatsa time! yeah! anyone else LOVE those things? Sitting at the pond eating tsatsa? ahhh summer, I can almost taste you!

5 days and counting

2006-03-26T22:22:00.000+03:00

Spring break commences after five school days! HOLLAAAAAHHH!

There is warmth in Bulgaria! While people in Razlog were able to remove their hats and scarves for a few hours today, people in the rest of the country wore open toed shoes and only one layer of clothing, and generally lighter than a sweater, at that!

I kept hearing spring had begun, but refused to believe it until this weekend. There are cherry trees in bloom! And the bus from Blagoevgrad reeked of BO.

I would rather work on SPA then go to school this week. Is that any indication of how little I want to teach? I'm believing this is just a phase and that something will change. Or that the chaos of spring and all the holidays and excursions will transform my distaste into vague and manageable apathy. Either way, we'll geterdone!

Petrich, while not the friendliest town I've ever been in, is LOADS warmer than Razlog, and has better cooking. By that I don't mean Bulgo-food (because I live a block from crazy good Bulgo-food. I mean Chrissy, who makes some killer tasty hotcakes and has real maple syrup to accompany them.

GAAAAHHH, GRRRR, AAARRRR, and other various expression of frustration

2006-03-24T14:29:00.000+02:00

I know it's been a while since I've posted. I've been whirling in a tornado of chaos. I was at an international exchange called "Music, Dance, and Something Else." It was great. I had the pleasure of seeing some of my least active students act as leaders, translators, presenters, and fabulous hosts. I was beginning to feel inspired by the fact that they do in fact have motivation.

Then I came back to school. The director is irate with them because no one asked if they could go. She told them they could not participate the next (the last) two days of the event. They went anyway. Big mistake kids.

I see two sides. Both sides have previous opinions of the other. Both sides have reason for their actions and good motivation. Both sides also have a bit of pride that inspires their steps.

I see two middles. One middle is sticking to one side. The other middle is desperately trying to stay objective and remember her role and primary responsibilities.

As I remember those responsibilities, to teach, to be a change and development agent, to be an American, I increasingly question my reason for being here. I have bragged on and will brag on my students again. They are not as unruly as a lot of students. And the other English teachers... Their English is great (some with Masters' degrees in English), several of them try to be progressive in their methodology. My directors are tolerant of our linguistic and cultural differences, and all the bureaucratic stuff that I carry along with me. *BUT* I am stuck in a tourturous middle place. A place where I can't function very well. A place where I either share classes with a group of kids with one other teacher and we take the lessons linearly, so I can't really know what I'll do with them tomorrow until after she has finished with them. Or, I'm in a place where I have one meeting with these kids each week, and can get VERY little done with them. I generally don't find out where they are until the day before, (in one case, this is when I'm given the text book), and am expected to work directly out of the book. Of course I can use some creative methods, but I have one evening to come up with these methods. I don't know what I'm doing!

Then there is this big tension between these two groups and I'm stuck in the middle. I see a side of these kids that brings me to tears. I thought yesterday that I only sobbed over it because I was so tired. Then today, when I tried to talk about the dichotomy between these kids in class and out of class I sobbed again. (here's hoping crying in front of the dir and ass't dir earns me some brownie points) The kids don't see any reason to be motivated at school, "we can never make our teachers happy/satisfied." Teachers don't see any reason to put in extra effort, "the kids never try." They are both at stale mates. I see my role to motivate the kids to perform with extra vigor in all their classes. I REALLY don't see it happening, however. Not because I don't think they are capable, but because I don't think the teachers will really notice it, or if they do, will acknowledge it. I'm still going to try, of course.

And one more thing. SPA. Thorn of my existence. I hate it. It's SUCH a great concept (pity it's in it's final year), but it's SO hard to do here. Team mentality is not a strong Bulgarian concept, not in the, "we all work hard, we all reap well" meaning of the word. So, my SPA team has been limited to two, my CP and me, by my director. She means well I know; she wants to reduce drama. It's just so irritating because it's backward. I feel like we are doing things SO backward.

I hear all these things which are spitting out in clusters of what could liberally be called thoughts. And I see the need for me here. But I am so uninspired. I don't see what EARTHLY good it will do. All I see are fights. Fighting myself for motivation, fighting students for discipline, fighting teachers for creativity... Then I think back over the last week and the wonderful moments I had being the drunken carrot, learning the meringue, chucking peanuts at Czechs, and most importantly, watching young Bulgarians exhibiting skills that if fostered will turn them into fabulous leaders for this country. I know that the odds are against them, but the best I can do is try to increase the odds.

And, on the upside: spring break is swiftly approaching (four school days and a joke of a Friday to wrangle my way through). Hopefully I'll have a fun girls' weekend in Blagoevgrad, visit the host fammo, see Varna, and get some good rest. We'll see...

Finally, I want to thank my PCV friends who listen to me complain, cry with me, calm me down, and fabulously distract me.

"we got a runna"

2006-03-16T23:33:00.000+02:00

No big thoughtful post tonight. I'm going to be sparse for the next few days. My sitemate, Harmonie has organized an international exchange with her youth group. I will be helping/hanging out with them. It starts tomorrow, Friday and goes through Thursday. I am actually taking off Monday and Wednesday to help out. Should be fun. It will be in Dobarsko, quite a beautiful little village, with a church on Unesco's list of places of international heritage or something like that. (It's the church with Jesus in a rocket ship, if you've ever wanted to see such a thing)

Small thought: I was at my Thursday coffee place with my Thursday coffee crowd today, since it is Thursday. Coolest gym teacher ever said she has been having an strangely strong appetite lately. She's always hungry. It occurs to me now that I have had a strange appetite for sleep lately. I cannot get enough sleep. I can nap all afternoon, then wake up, use the toilet and "go to bed." You reckon I have mono? This is why I've been sick so much? I have mono! OR It's winter and that generally drains me. There were a few minutes of sunshine today which were quite enjoyable from inside, where you couldn't tell quite how cold it was outside.

Alright friends, although I'd love to comment on the ongoing debate raging over censorship and our PC duties, I won't. Because... you guessed it, I'm too tired. I did laundry and made some kind of meal today, that is all the productivity I can handle. Oh, and watched a couple episodes of "Prison Break" just for the hay of it. I LOVE THAT SHOW! "Your hormonethings are all out of wack, you aren't thinking straight."

2006-03-14T15:25:00.000+02:00

What was the first thing God said was not good? Remember, in the first chapter of Genesis? God created all kinds of things and said they were good. Check out Genesis 2:18 The LORD God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone."

not good for the man to be alone. NOT GOOD FOR THE MAN TO BE ALONE. NOT GOOD FOR THE MAN TO BE ALONE.

I was listening to Rob Bell's sermon at Mars Hill today, from Sunday. He said that one of the purposes of Lent is for us to experience togetherness. The supreme experience of togetherness is the mystical union with Christ. I don't know about y'all, I don't think "mystical" has a very positive connotation these days. I'd venture to guess that most people either think of some type of new age philosophy or the "heretics" of the middle age cloisters who sought union with Christ through extensive fasting eating only the oldest and darkest of the left over bread, which caused "visions" of holiness, which we may now attribute to the same type of hallucinations as our Salem witches.

Mystical: 1 a : having a spiritual meaning or reality that is neither apparent to the senses nor obvious to the intelligence *the mystical food of the sacrament* b : involving or having the nature of an individual's direct subjective communion with God or ultimate reality *the mystical experience of the Inner Light*2 : MYSTERIOUS, UNINTELLIGIBLE

Let me elaborate. Bell argued that by joining in the temptation of Christ we are joining in union with him. By suffering with him, we are uniting with him. By "killing" parts of us, we are uniting with him. In suffering, temptation, and crucifixion, we join with Christ. What makes it mystical? If you follow me, do what I do, and don't do what I don't do, you become like me, but it does not make us any better friends. I have not entered into your soul and you have not entered into mine. Nothing occurs that is beyond reason, sense, or intellect. However, when we join in the suffering of Christ we somehow become closer to him. We gain a better understanding of his will. He becomes a greater and stronger force in us. That is the mystery, the mystical aspect of it.

I think this explains a couple things. Lent has not been easy for me. First of all, I chose to give up something which makes me feel better just by sucking up electricity, my TV. On a day when all I want is a little distraction, the TV is a beautiful thing. It's constant company. Secondly, as with any journey into the wilderness, there will be all sorts of distractions. These may include but are not limited to, personal drama, missing your family intensely, feeling useless, drama at work, and/or health issues.

I've found myself in a very inactive mood. Nearly passive really. I'm just not interested. My students bounce off the wall? I sit behind my desk and think about sleeping until they realize I'm waiting for them. Should I plan a lesson? What's the point, there's no way for me to gauge if they'll participate today. Should I eat today? Nah, it's too much work, I'll just have a biscuit and eat tomorrow. Should I wash clothes today? Nah, I'll just air these socks out. I have a couple more pairs of underwear clean. I know this is unhealthy. Maybe it's like I said yesterday. Maybe I've begun shutting off pieces of myself as a coping mechanism. I think part of it is this: I don't handle chaos very well, and when chaos seems to rule, I go limp. I don't fight the chaos, I don't move with it. I just lie still and wait for it to pass, hoping I don't get crushed by it. Maybe that's the deal.

ARE YOU LISTENING?!?!

2006-03-13T16:30:00.000+02:00

"Therefore be brave, and therefore, dear, be free;/Try all things resolutely, till the best,Out of all lesser betters, you shall find;"
From Robert Louis Stevenson's "Fear Not, Dear Friend, But Freely Live Your Days"

If someone called you and spewed all of what was said on the blog, would you turn them away or hang up on them because they were having a moment of rage or irritation they needed a third party to help them work through? Do we judge simply on the basis of one sentence in one grand scheme of a story without asking for more details or even knowing that person or what he/she is going through professionally, personally, physically?
Posted by Centrifugal Bumble-Puppy, March 13, 2006. 10:18am

I'd like to comment on CBP's remarks for a minute. There is a profundity to these words, and one even greater in what has been left unsaid. Do we look deep into the words we hear to listen to the speaker's heart? For me, I am severely out of practice because, well, when I do get to listen to English, I am usually greedy to be heard. But there was a time when I was a good listener.

On one level we can take from CBP's comments the advice to listen deeply to what we hear people saying. This is especially true as PCVs. We have a tendency to become a bit isolated. If you isolate yourself, fine. See you at COS. Have a nice service. But for those of us that do have a hard time, for those of us to whom integration is not easy, for those of us who daily struggle to stay positive, we need good listeners.

Now, the other level. Should PC be one of those listeners? Well frankly, I don't see why not. But here's the frustrating part: what if I have gone to them with my concerns and they don't offer ample support? To whom do I turn then? Every PCV finds his or her support. Some people drink too much alcohol, some people travel every weekend, some find random drugs to take, others write, the majority combine all of these methods and close off the sensors that say, "you should be healthier inside and be a better teacher/youth development worker/ community development worker." Most of us start down the path of disenchantment. We come here as bright and fluffy young adults ready to conquer the world and we get a swift kick in the pants toward submission, bureaucracy, and unchangeable things.

Whatev's i mean, que sera sera.

Okay, neither of us believe that. What's the answer? Be a better listener. Be a better talker. Find a healthy outlet. Some people don't go to their PC staff with their problems. Some people go to their program staff without making any attempts to fix the situation on their own. It's all about middle ground I reckon.

Here's my nugget of wisdom: There is a difference between hearing and listening. Try to genuinely listen to the words, actions, emotions, and expressions of those around you. They may be crying out for your shoulder, ear, hand [insert synecdocheic image here].

not really bikini pics

2006-03-12T11:10:00.000+02:00

It has been brought to my attention that if I put some bikini pics up, some people wouldn't "breeze" over my blog. Well. I don't own a bikini, but in your honor, here's the closest I have. Good luck to you B. I'm sure you will do well!

Oh yes, big brother is out there...

2006-03-10T19:43:00.000+02:00

I try to write with relative objectivity and decency for several reasons. My URL is on the bottom of my emails. That means folks like my CP, my BG language tutor, and everyone at the PC office has quick access to my blogche. Another reason is simply that it wouldn't be hard for one of my more advanced students to google me and happen upon my blog. I'm not here to make waves. Not that I'm necessarily opposed to that. But I'm going to say something that may be waveworthy. A PCV I know was recently reprimanded for some things on his/her blog, particularly a series of comments regarding a PC staffer. Now, in all fairness, PC was probably totally within their rights and I understand their action (although it's a tough pill to swallow). What kills me about this situation isn't that my fellow PCV was reprimanded for making these comments about the staffer, but that there is some other crazy talk on other people's blogs that is probably chalked up to exaggeration and frustration. Of course TEFLs are exaggerating when they talk of strangling kids or throwing them out windows, to name the most popular methods of theoretical torture. But, what if your darling student's English speaking parent happened upon that post? Okay, so they probably don't speak English... suspend your disbelief please. Disaster right there friends.

Anyway, for my fellow PCV bloggers reading this, tread lightly wherever ye may go! It's not news that our first lady, Mrs. CD checks on our blogches, but I'm pretty sure that the recent accosting of my friend has resulted in further exploration. Maybe it's just my blog, since I frequently posted comments on the forementioned PC-censored blog.

You all know I have and use StatCounter on my blog. I love love it when I can id an ISP somehow. Either because you've left a comment, or the title of your ISP, or sometimes the ISP has a town named with it. But there are a lot of ISPs I cannot id. I think I finally nailed down PC. On my StatCounter, it shows me where you came from, so if you got to my site from say, Jeremy's site, I'll know it. I do have a lot of hits from your site, btw Jeremy. Now, why would someone, not Jeremy use that site regularly as a jumping off point, unless you're him or family? It's your favorite site. OR, it's got a pretty comprehensive list of BG PCV bloggers. hmmm okay. Here's another interesting factoid I'll share with you, dear reader... There are two hits from a referring link in someone's C: drive. hm... Who's C drive is the question. Well, there's a hint comprised of a first initial and last name. Not just any last name, but a PC staffer. No darling, I won't reveal it. Nope, not even to you! EH! STOP ASKING! Now, to further support my belief that this particular ISP is PC: They have linked to my site from the censored blog and from the comprehensive list, as well as one other person's site, AND the "C:/Documentsandsettings/ [insertmysterynamehere]/ Localsettings/ Temporaryinternetfiles/ AmericaninBulgaria.htm"

You can make up your own mind.

Wait, so what was the point of this post? 1) To PCV bloggers: keep your noses clean. 2) See what a good sleuth I am? 3) I'm trying to decide if I should resent the fact that I'm getting checked up on. The bit of me with authority issues well resent it, yes. But I work for a big ole bureaucracy and I knew that all along.

In conclusion: get a statcounter and become a blogspy like me!

PS: a couple other blogspynotes:
hasarder, it's good to see you checking up on me again!!

i think it's funny in that not funny way that a person would use the reading of my blog as a replacement for direct contact. Are looking for reaction?. I mean, once a day for four days as compared to a couple times in a month? My subconscious tells me there is a corelation...

I CAN'T SEE, HELP ME!! I'M BLIND!!

2006-03-10T19:20:00.000+02:00

I got a packaged today from my mommy!  It’s just a little package, but it has two of the best things I can think of, Jennifer Knapp’s new CD and some sour candy.  There was also an adorable picture of my doggie.  As I lay here and listen to this fabulous collection of JK’s live recordings, I feel more than a little bit nostalgic.  Jennifer’s not really in the music scene these days so I haven’t been to one of her shows if a few years, and there’s no sense in thinking that if I were home the listening would be better in some way.  There are just some things I listen to that remind me of certain things: driving in the summer with the windows down (David Crowder Band), road trips to Indy or Louisville (Dixie Chicks), moments celebrating my familial dysfunction (John Mayer), and of course, when ever I needed to motivate myself to clean or get ready and going in the mornings it was Jennifer Knapp.  That motivation factor isn’t transatlantic, in case anyone is wondering.  I am struck with the profundity of her lyrics today.  On one hand I agree so completely, in my heart and in my mind.  However, a bit of my soul won’t let me completely agree because there is a dichotomy between what I feel and what I do.

I had the weirdest experience today.  Have you ever looked at the sun and had a spot in your vision for a moment or two after that?  For the first few seconds it may be completely black there, then as your rods and pins or whatever they’re called come back into balance your vision is restored through stages of fuzziness.  Well, I was walking in the center to do a bit of shopping and I notice that I have one of those fuzzy spots as if I had looked at the sun, in the bottom left quarter of my vision.  I hadn’t looked at the sun though, or anything bright.  I went into the Euro shop to pick up more tissue because yes, I’ve gone through five packs in the last four days.  I had to look at things sideways in order to read them.  I went to the next store.  Same story.  But by this time it was totally creeping me out.  As I left that store and walked toward the grocer’s my vision went back to normal.  Those thirty minutes were more than long enough.  I am a bit of a drama queen, so I was thinking, “maybe my vision is escaping me!  maybe I’ve busted a nerve coughing.  can anyone else see what’s wrong with my eye?  maybe it’s inflamed or droopy or something.”  Whatevs.  My eye got better.  I’m sure it has something to do either with my sinus problem or with the Sudafed I’m taking.  Speaking of Sudafed, I’ve been getting mild bloody noses on account of that mess.  Grrr.  I hate it, but I am taking it because wellllll,  I HATE BEING SICK!

Go find a way to hear Jennifer Knapp’s new album, “Live”

Wait, you were serious? I thought that was a joke! My B!

2006-03-09T13:48:00.000+02:00

BULGARIA SEEKS COOPERATION ON WINTER OLYMPICS APPLICATION - Bulgaria Abroad news

back in the saddle

2006-03-08T22:01:00.000+02:00

So, tomorrow I have full intentions of jumping back on the horse we call teaching. I only have two classes in the morning, then two SIPs after lunch. These classes are the rare moments I don't have to worry about discipline, so I'm sure I'll be fine. Then, in the evening, a bit of something new: my sitemate's CP has asked me to take one of her private adult classes. Not the best week for it, but it's cool, I'll manage.

Highlight of the week: Today is Women's Day. I guess this is international, but I'd never heard of it before. It's typical here for women to receive flowers and candies. Since I was sick today, I'd resigned myself to being flowerless ("I try not to get attached to things that won't last." is that how it goes Lucia? "you gonna get shanked!"). Well, low and behold, I'm awakened from my nap around 11am by a knock on the door. In my hallway, down the stairs, and peeking around the corner, I find my ocmi a-ers. God love 'em. These kids make me want to ripe out my eyeballs some days, but they can be the most thoughtful bunch of bulgobrats I've ever come across. They brought me a card with a lovely note, and a huge box of chocolate covered cherries. Now, I've never been a big fan of these little morsels, but here you always get a little bit of liqueur, so they're not too bad. Anyway, that made me feel better. And that I've not had a fever since last night. I don't feel miserable, just sick. This is what, the forth time I've been sick? May, September, November, I think once already this year, but I'm not sure, and now, March. gaaaahhh! The world is out to get me!

There is NO bird flu in Bulgaria, for the LAST time, come on media!

2006-03-08T08:26:00.000+02:00

BULGARIA'S OFFICIALS DENY CONCEALED BIRD FLU INFORMATION EXISTS - Bulgaria Abroad news

BOOO WAAAA SOBSOBSOB PAIN FEEL SORRY FOR ME...

2006-03-07T23:42:00.000+02:00

Oh, I'm sorry about that title, I'm just subconsciously trying to feel better about myself by having you, dear reader feel sorry for me. So, let me list the reasons why: I ran a fever all night last night of 101. This afternoon it got up to 102.6. Sweet. I've got the whole coughy-runny nose-sinus pressure thing again. But with a fever? Uck, I can't remember the last time I had a fever. It's not fun. I'm not good at being sick. When I was at the peak of today's misery (at the 102.6 time), I took a couple ibuprofen, sudafed, and went down to see my baba. I don't go down there a lot because I hate to impose on people. But I wanted some good tea, something better than this bouquet crap that I have. So dyado pesho made me fresh tea from some kinda stuff they picked, put some other stuff in it (lysomething), and then something else. It was very tasty.

So, like I mentioned, I'm taking sudafed. So far, I'm doing alright with that. I really hate taking sinus meds. Being at home, it's not a problem, since there's nothing else I really should be doing or concentrating on. But if I take sudafed and try to focus on anything, I'm a wreck.

Other news? Tomorrow is the women's day. If I were to go to school, I would receive flowers from my kids. But I'm pretty sure I'm not going. I went today for 3 periods. I was reprimanded by several teachers for being there. When I went in her office to ask if I could go home, my director scolded me for coming today and told me to stay home tomorrow. I told her I'll see how I feel. She gave me the "ti iskash shamare" hand gesture (why is it that when I get sick people think threatening me or telling me not to cough will make me better??) and told me I wasn't coming tomorrow. So, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to school tomorrow.

Alright, I'm going to try to go to sleep. I kind of want to turn on the TV, but I gave that up for Lent, and even though I'm sick and have nothing to do and don't have the energy to read or the strength to hold up a book, I'll stick to my commitments.

"I'm sick and tired of always being sick and tired"

2006-03-06T11:50:00.000+02:00

I think I've been pretty sensitive lately. I don't mean kind and sweet sensitive, I mean perceptive sensitive. I've been stunned by things lately. The beauty around me has been amazing. You would think the world has changed. Perhaps it has a little. The earth is shifting little by little each day. The sun, as it hits the mountains is never the same twice. There's been a bit of clear sunshine everyday since Friday, and I've taken advantage of it.

Maybe with this hint of spring weather, God is reminding me of his natural order. There is a natural order to relationships, to discipleship, to weather, to health. I frequently either disobey or resent that order. I'm opinionated. I like to speak my mind perhaps to a fault. I want to help people, sometimes being honest with them before having built a necessary level of trust. I hate winter and would rather skip it entirely. I am sick AGAIN!! I will admit that I don't take very good care of myself. There is a natural order to one's health. One must consume certain vitamins and minerals inorder for sufficient immune functioning. I am not good at that.

Have you ever been in any type of relationship with someone with whom communication seemed intolerably unmanageable? Maybe the two of you had a great relationship and something happened and you don't communicate well anymore? Maybe the two of you were put together for work or some other reason and you must communicate but are just dreadful at it? Maybe you two are family? There are lots of reasons why people who can't just up and leave eachother have communication problems. Dare I say the vast majority can be attributed to trust issues? I recently blogged about that and I'm still behind myself on that opinion. I can't stress enough that we learn to trust one another, that we seek to earn eachother's trust.

And finally. I feel like poopoo. I am sick once again. I don't feel as awful as the last time I was sick. Here's hoping we don't get that far. But on the bright side: my dad figured out a way to get video clips of my puppies to me (stupid cameras with exclusive codecs make this difficult). And: I went to the bazaar today and found popcorn kernels, and I finally bought another towel! Yeah for me! (but you still have to bring a towel when visiting!)

peace love and martenichki!

Честита Баба Марта - Happy Gramma March (huh?)

2006-03-01T17:41:00.000+02:00

Some things just don't translate. Here in Bulgarland, the first of March is a very special day. Every one of my 8th graders gave me a bracelet or pin of red and white yarn. There's a story to go with it that has something to do with a bird that had to fly somewhere and it was shot with an arrow and the blood and the white of it's feathers mixed. I'm not too clear. It made me feel special. Then they began to be demons again. They were strongly scolded yesterday by my counterpart. Today the same stuff came up. I just sat behind my desk and stared into nowhere. They got quiet after a minute. I nearly cried. All I could think to say was, "I don't know why I'm here, you don't listen to me." I didn't shout, I wasn't angry. I was so hurt. I love these kids and they are so rude. I know it's not intentional, that's why it hurt me rather than angered me. One of my kids promised he'd be better. He said it in this quiet and meek tone. This was one of my problem kids. I hope he means it.

Today is Ash Wednesday. I've been fasting all day. I've had water, two cups of coffee, a bottle of juice, and two courtesy bites of bread. I couldn't not eat it. There were these girls in cute traditional dresses passing out bread and wishing a happy баба марта, first in the teachers' room, then in my 11a class. I couldn't be rude. There's a certain excitement in fasting. A sense of anticipation. I'm aware there's a lesson to be learned, and this time the difficulty of it is willed and self-imposed.

There's an irony in the coinciding of Ash Wednesday and Баба Марта. When I was young, at vacation Bible school, we'd nearly always have to make "wordless books." Sometimes it was a felt book about two inches tall. Sometimes it was a bracelet with beads. Each color had a meaning. Initially it was to help us become aware of the gospel. Black because we all have sin in our lives. Red because Jesus died and shed his blood on the cross. White because he cleansed us of our sins and now we're white as snow. Green because now we grow in him. Gold for the streets of heaven we'll one day walk on. And sometimes there's purple for his royalty, where was that? When I got older I helped other kids make them as I led VBSs and backyard Bible clubs.

Today the Bulgarians celebrate the advent of spring. Today I join Christ in the wilderness, with these red and white cords around my wrists and on my heart, I'm not really thinking about when I'll see the first stork, rather the metaphor of blood and holiness, of sacrifice. Fire and Ice. Passion and Purity. Blood is not bad. Passion is not sin. We give these things up not because they are intrinsically sinful or hinder our walks with Christ. Jesus did not fast in the desert to purify himself of sin. He did not allow his blood to be spilled so that he would be emptied of the sinful substance. Sometimes we must give up good things so that they can be made better by God, so that we can be made better by God. That is sacrifice. The reward is holiness.

ucky day good day

2006-02-28T19:09:00.000+02:00

I got a package of books today. And some pictures. My brother's senior portraits. One picture taken just a few days before I left the sweet motherland- some kiddie portaits, by that I mean me and the kids. Teehee. Me and my brother and sister. A picture of Erik shaking his principal's hand, wearing that bright blue robe. Ah, graduation.

Back to the books. A few books from my mom. I'd asked her to send me a couple books I had at home, The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis and Passion and Purity by Elisabeth Elliot. I just had a cup of coffee, so I may end up reading all of Elliot's book tonight. I've read it once before, but that was at a very different time and place in my life, physically and spiritually. It's not the most intellectual book I've ever read (and that's saying something if I'm saying it), but it's such a great romance, and so honestly written. Here's a little quote: "Waiting silently is the hardest thing of all... But the things we feel the most deeply we ought to learn to be silent about, at least until we have talked them over thoroughly with God." I'm crummy at that. Absolutely crummy. I have this deep need to be understood, not just to talk and comunicate, but to know that someone truely understands me. The more people the better.

I'm for sure going to observe lent this year. Turns out you're supposed to fast on Ash Wednesday, not eat meat on Fridays, don't have to do the "giving up" on Sundays, and on errr Good Friday again to fast? I read that for Lenten fasting you can have one normal meal and two small snacks as long as they are not big enough combined to be one meal. And meat free days, well, you can have fish, margarine, dairy, meat juices, even gravy w/ little bitty chunks of meat. I'm pretty sure that I'll follow my fasting rules for fasting days: no food, only juices for energy/ sugar; and for meat free days, I'll revert to vegetarian days where I ate dairy, but steered clear of anything blatenlty meat or with meat, i.e. something made with beef bouillon is still beef and gravy is WAY meat.

I haven't really fasted at all in a while, so this should be interesting. I'm a bit excited. I'm also excited that there are other people here in country doing this too. Ah Bulgaria, how you've changed my life. I'm not Catholic, but Lent isn't a concept contrived by the Catholic church, even though most Americans see it that way. Even so, my notion of fasting is a bit different perhaps. I grew up raised to think fasting should be tough, like nearly impossible so that you have to REALLY lean on God tough. The goal is to be closer to God. You should not whine or complain, if possible don't even talk about it, in order to avoid martyr syndrome. But there should always be someone who will hold you accountable to your fast, and to encourage you in it.

I mentioned a box of books right? Well, I was thinking yesterday about giving up TV for Lent. Then when that box of books came in (from my sister Susan Barber at Christ Church - YEAH for Susan, the only person beside my mom who ever sends me stuff and we weren't even that close!!!!) I took it as clear confirmation that I should be wasting less time and spending more time in devotion (and lesson planning). So with this slew of books, I should have plenty to do the next 40 not Sunday days (btw, I'm not going to watch TV on Sundays even though it's allowed, because well, I don't reckon watching TV is really participating in the celebration of the ressurrection of Christ). I don't think that not turning on the TV will be so difficult; rather, the difficulty lies in being faithful to the logic behind it. The fasting and meatless days might be a challenge, but I WELCOME the challenge. Bring it on. Let's gitterdone!

aigh, i'm gonna have me a lil snackche, watch my last few bits of TV, and dig back into some good reads. oh, and plan lessons, why do i keep forgetting that part?

oh, the ucky day part: the weather here is miserable. I waded home in two inches of SLUSH. It rained, sleeted, snowed, rained, snowed, sleeted all day. It was gross. good day: I GOT A PACKAGE!!

"The Man Came Around

2006-02-27T22:52:00.000+02:00

Steve Beard on Johnny Cash on National Review Online - An interesting article on the legacy of Johnny Cash.

"then the sherriff he come too, and he said, 'Sam, how're you?' And I said, 'Well sherriff, how are you? Damn your eyes.' My name is Samuel Samuel."

Okay, I think that song is just too funny!

Anyone have any insights on the allusions on the song, "The Man Comes Around"? I get the ladder, and the virgins, and I know the thornbush thing is from a dream he had while in England, and some of it is from Revelations. But I'm not too clear on a lot of the images. Each of you pick one and expand on it here please. This is for a participation grade. ;) leka friends. i'm done!

am i desperado? naaahhhh

2006-02-27T20:50:00.000+02:00

Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
You been out ridin' fences for so long now.
Oh, you're a hard one,
But I know that you've got your reasons.
These things that are pleasin' you,
Can hurt you somehow.

Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy,
She'll beat you if she's able.
Know the queen of hearts is always your best bet.
Now it seems to me, some fine things,
Have been laid upon your table.
But you only want the things that you can't get.

Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger:
Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home.
And freedom, oh freedom,
Well, that's just some people talkin'
Your prison is walking,
Through this world all alone.

And don't your feet get cold in the winter time?
The sky won't snow, the sun won't shine
It's hard to tell the night time from the day
You're loosin' all your highs and lows
Ain't it funny how the feeling,
Goes away?

Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, and open the gate
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you,
You better let somebody love you,
You better let somebody love you,
You better let somebody love you,
Before it's too late.

Lyrics source plus audio

"Your prison is walking through this world all alone." That's a scary thought. I went to dinner with my sitemate tonight. We talked about some scary things. Mothers in menopause. Mothers mourning mothers. Us mourning mothers. Us mourning siblings. Us being sent home. We didn't talk about it, but me being here in this town alone is a scary thought to me, even though I pretty well love my site. Being alone is scary. It's frightening to not have someone to share me with. What's really scary is having to help people rediscover me when I get back to America. Being so distant in so many ways has helped to draw my mother and me closer. But I regret to say that probably all of my other relationships have deteriorated. My brother and sister, my best friends. I don't know. Perhaps they have stepped back to keep themselves "safe." I don't so much blame them. I have missed very important events in there lives. His first graduation, her first graduation, his first triathlon, her brother died. her dog got sick. his dog died. stuff. stuff that is hard to go through. stuff that piece by piece changes us.

Anyway. It seems like there was more I've been thinking about. I was approached about lent today. I've never really done lent. I've done full food fasts for short periods of time. I've done long fasts from certain things before, but never followed the Catholic calender and rules before. I'm thinking about giving up everything that comes out of my TV. I'm not sure if that means other people's TVs, and I'm pretty sure it won't mean anything on my laptop, as I don't really watch many movies or anything on here. I don't know. I'll surely miss McLeod's Daughters and Meet the Barkers. But as my grandpa would say, they aren't really very edifying anywho.

"the virgins are all trimming their wicks."

tortured tangled hearts

2006-02-26T22:17:00.000+02:00

I've been reading Cold Mountain which is a terribly tragic story. I just finished the part where Ada's father tells Ada how he met her mother. He tells her a story of jilted love, bitterness, a life spent, and then a second life. He tells the story of a love that was worth waiting for, fighting for, and dying for. It was a sad story.

I watched Walk the Line today, the new Johnny Cash film. Another love story, yet this time not so tragic. There is a piece of me that longs for tragic romance. Perhaps it's the drama queen in me. I want that love that is proven and purified like silver in the white hot fire. Something that's been made stronger through trials and tough times. Now, I'm no angel. I'm no June Carter. I don't want no crack heads. I'd prefer not to have to see you through detox. But there is something so beautiful about a love that's been tempered like that.

I figured out how to play this movie which took several strokes of genious or good luck, one. I thought I was doing pretty well for myself. Then my dad tried to hook me up with a few clips of my puppy playing around. Well, that's when my codecs luck ran out on me! Poor meggy has clips of her puppy and can't watch'em. The camera my folks use apperently uses a codec that they've written just for that camera, or that brand. So unless my parents can figure out how to change it, or I can get the software to work on my computer, I'm out of luck. I JUST WANNA SEE MY PUPPY!!! not fair! A girl caint win fer losin!

bored on a saturday night

2006-02-25T19:59:00.001+02:00

I, like usual, am spending my weekend on my lazy bum watching TV and reading. MTV is playing POD's new song. It makes me miss church. That, and chatting with a friend from home with whom I've been out of touch for several years compound my normal "missing home" feelings. I tried cooking something to make myself feel better. It worked and it didn't work. I tried my hand at barbecue sauce. Here were the ingredients: tomato puree, brown sugar, apple vinegar, beer, salt, pepper, onions, garlic, a dash of Worcestershire sauce, and some chunks of chicken breasts. Oh and just for kicks, I threw in some dried chili seeds. I let it brew all night in the crock pot. When I woke up at six am I unplugged it. Oh yes. I woke up at six am. I was not pleased. I took my three ibuprofen, made some tea, and sat on my winter bed and wished I could be watching the Today Show rather than some silly program on Animal Planet. I was also wishing I could be cuddling my puppy or having my mom rub my back. I was wishing I could send my mom to WalMart for some of those hot packs that you put on your back or on your front. I loved those things... I'm one of those that find heat therapeutic, so they were very nice.

Um, so Friday is the day Bulgarians celebrate freedom from 500 years of the Turkish yoke (oppression). I'll be celebrating a day off of the teacher's yoke! A couple of other volunteers will be crashing here and doing some skiing in Bansko. I was talking with Lucia last night and how we both wanted to do some discoing. So I've convinced her to come down here this weekend and disco with me! Chrissy and Joe were kind enough to insist I wouldn't be a fifth wheel on their evening adventures in Bansko and with Lucia along, they won't feel like they have to include me or whatever. Okay, I have no concerns for them, I just wanted Lucia down here. and any other bootie shakers who want to spend the long weekend in Bansko and Razlog. Maybe we can get the illusive miss Clark, aka, american chalga princess! I'm waiting for her to get me a banski connection. I don't mean swimsuit kiddos.

I love my stat counter, but I have to say, too many of you darlings simply skip past my blog without leaving your two cents. Now, this is a tragedy for many reasons. First, I don't get to meet you! Second, you are denying a terrific conversation the chance to be born. Third, by putting your online self out here you can maximize the hittage on your blog (as long as there's a link through your profile or somewhere). I know you're out there! Some of you are friends or family of other volunteers (or are volunteers). Some of you are fellow Middle Tennesseans. I'm pretty sure one of you was a college roommie of mine! Come on guys! Can't you see I'm lonely?! Leave me some comments! Don't let me wallow in this isolation!

Okay, enough useless rambling. have a good weekend!

bored on a saturday night

2006-02-25T19:59:00.000+02:00

More Murder in Bulgaria

2006-02-23T11:11:00.000+02:00

NEW PUBLIC MURDER IN BULGARIA AFTER A PERIOD OF CALM - Bulgaria Abroad news

The mob strikes again in Bulgaria...