quotes

"We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibres connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibres as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects."
Herman Melville

This quote sounds something like Donne's bit about not asking for whom the bell tolls. Ahha, do I love google. I can google this, "for whom the bell tolls" and I find a couple links to Hemmingway's book by that title, the IMDb site for the film, and a link to a bunch of Donne's work.   By the way, I love the fact that the word "google," which was originally the name of a website, has become a verb meaning, "to search for something on the internet." For example, "I don't know the exact URL, just google it."  One doesn't have to use google.com, you just have to use a search engine (why you wouldn't use google I don't know).   I can't wait until google means simply "to search for something or someone."  For example, "Will you help me google my car keys?  I can't seem to find them."  teeheehee...  I love when language evolves!  

“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee...”
From Meditation 17
By John Donne
Meditation 17 by John Donne

Actually, I'd like to recommend that you go ahead and read the rest of that Meditation. It took me a minute to recognize this, but both of these quotes remind me of The Five People You Meet In Heaven. I'm not saying I agree with the theology or the concept of Heaven that this book portrays, but all three of my references here suggest that we are all connected. I think that believing this notion furthers a spirit of love and generosity that Jesus would be honored by, so don't think I'm getting all new-agey here. Just because some wacky quiz maker says I sound agnostic (wha'er!)...    

The next generation of smell-o-vision...

I'm recommending we scrap the work the good folks at MIT and other fabulously ingenuitive institutions are doing with the creation of smell-o-vision. I mean, TV is a dying breed. It's all about the internet. We'll soon be watching our favorite programs on streaming video whenever we want with nice banner adds running the WHOLE time rather than just during the breaks anyway!

You may ask, "But megi, why would you be thinking of such random things?" That's a completely understandable question.

I was in the shower just now (yes, at 6pm) beating myself up for being completely useless for the last two days, and the four days before that are questionable. So I picked up the scrubbing brush on the floor and started to scrub the sliminess off my bathroom tiles.

"megi, this has nothing to do with smell-I-net."
spoko be, I'm getting there!

I picked up my towel and realized that I got a load of clothes washed and hung out to dry yesterday, and my towels were dry this afternoon (ahha, a perfectly reasonable excuse for not showering in way too long). So check off two events, scrubbing my floor and doing laundry.

So, the web-o-smells part...

I wish I could capture the smells of this place and send it home to my family and friends. There is nothing like the fresh scent of wood smoke, especially as you towel dry your hair with it. There are other smells, like my first ever pumpkin pie (for reasons which shall remain unmentioned, I did not even try), like a fabulously and creatively repaired green bean casserole in a land bez fried onions and cream of mushroom soup (props to stiles and her mommo for that!).

And of course, how excellent would it be if I could receive smells? I know this may sound weird, but I'd love a whiff of my dog after a good bath with her oatmeal shampoo (she's got sensitive skin, okay?). I would kill to smell that funky perfume my mom has loved all these years. I almost miss the smell of my mildew-rotted bedroom walls. And what about my mother's BEST EVER DINNER!!! Pot roast with potatoes and carrots and onions... The smell of chocolate pudding cake cooking in the oven. Ah, super (said with a distinctly BG accent - like soo pair)

Here's to smells! Good, bad, and indifferent. Treasure them, you never know when you'll wish you can smell them again. That is, until they come introduce smell-line.

Proof that online quizes are глупости

You fit in with: Agnosticism Your ideals mostly resemble those of an Agnostic. You are fairly ambivalent towards any religion or spiritual connection. You lead a very busy life and find that religion and spirituality are unnecessary to your life. 0% scientific. 20% reason-oriented.

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

What a joke huh? I'll tell you the truth, I was liberal with my answers... I can't remember most of them now. This just serves to prove that the world is not ready for a non-legalistic approach to Christianity. Wha'er. I'm NOT agnostic.

Bruce Lee

Years after his death, Bruce Lee is still breaking boundaries and furthering intercultural and international unity. Check out this... lemme know what you think.

"This does not mean that Bruce Lee will unite us, because people are different and cannot be united and we will always be Muslims, Serbs or Croats," Gatalo said. "But one thing we all have in common is Bruce Lee." (bold added by me)

Vampires and other strange things

Vampire graves discovered in Bulgaria Weird link.

So I'm sick today and I've discovered that Google's reign over the world has expanded to include a strictly-limited-to-blogs search engine. I'll explore this engine until I tire of it and let you know how it works. My goals of exploration: interesting BG stuff, expanding my PC blogging network. You'd be amazed at how nice it is to step into someone elses personal world.

Bansko Rivals Europe's Top Ski Spots Bansko has aparently been named Europe's most improved ski resort. Well Howdee! Does that mean you'll come to visit me? My little town has a super nice new hotel, and is only 5Km from Bansko. Or you could crash at my cozy little flat and I'll bake you an apple cake.

UFO spotted and filmed in Blagoevgrad So, I know this is hard to believe... But think about all of the treasures to be sought in my oblist! I'm suprised it's taken aliens this long to discover the wonders of South West Bulgaria. Check out the video.

Lucia's blog
This is Lucia's site and she has a bunch of pics from our Thanksgiving bash.

And this is the official Razlogshki B17 Thanksgiving pic. I only regret that Ned was not in this picture. Well, I also regret that I'm wearing my hot baba vest, but at least I've got it on the right side out this time. Becca, thanks for your help with that. До Колида!!

a boy who hates for people to be sad

When he was little, my brother hated it when other people were sad. He would ask over and over, "what's wong? What's wong?" He'd tug on your hand, your dress, your hair, your heart. He cried when he learned the story of Noah's Ark. He couldn't stand sadness.
As he got older, as we all do, he learned that the sadness couldn't be avoided and quite frequently couldn't be fixed. I'm not going to say how that changed his personality. I can only say how it changed his behavior. He went from the boy who cried harder than you because of your tears to the boy who got angry at you for conflict. Sometimes he got angry at us for fighting, even if the fight wasn't about him. This was learned behavior. I'm not trying to get all extra-personal on all of you.

I saw this picture on his blog, and it was preceded by a gripe about the start of the American holiday season. It made me sad. If I were home, I would go lay down on my big cozy bed with my big cozy dog and sob for a while. Before he'd go to bed, my brother would find some reason to come in, or just to say goodnight. 45 minutes later, I'd have laughed, shared, and bonded once again with my bro. I miss those times. I miss his distracting sense of humor. I envy his tireless determination. I wish I still had that naive desire to give and give and give. I just want to be comfortable and healthy and unhurting.

Cheers to not being sad or sick (I have an uzhastno sinus infection and don't have the energy to make myself some tea, let alone work. I'm hoping my colleagues don't think I'm playing hookie and come give me help. We'll see if that happens) and strange pictures of people in the hand of my brother. BTW, check out his blog, there's a link over there -->

Songs and Words and Stories

So, I’ve had one of those weeks that pulls everything from your insides, tosses it in a blender, then throws it at your face.  I am proud to say that I pulled off a successful Thanksgiving dinner with the help of a few other volunteers.  Becca, thanks a MIL!

It did leave me quite drained, then I had to go to a training event near Sofia for several days, where drama ensued.  All in all, my Thanksgiving celebration was a good experience, even with the drama that was a result.  It would have happened anyway I’m sure.  One thing I know right now is that I NEVER expected drama in Peace Corps.  I saw myself too busy in my school and community to have drama with other Americans.  I guess because we are in this bubble of loneliness, all of our weaknesses come shining through, and perhaps we cling and trust and choose to see the best in people.  It’s a funny thing when everyone around you sees what you did not until you trip over it and break your nose as you hit the ground.  I guess that is love though.  You have to let people make their own mistakes rather than showing the potentially damaging character flaws of those you associate yourself with.  What do you do?  Well, I’m not worried too much, winter has set in and I don’t expect to get out of the ‘Log much in the next four months, even if I wanted to.  

So this post is my attempt at uncreative creativity.  Sometimes they are out of the context of the song, but it the context of my life.  Sometimes the unquoted context of the song explains the unwritten context here.  

I bruise easily
So be gentle when you handle me
Theres a mark you leave
Like a love heart carved on a tree
I bruise easily
Can't scratch the surface
Without moving me underneath
I bruise easily
(Natasha Bedingfield “I Bruise Easily”)

I got bruised.  I learned that:

Anyone who can touch you
Can hurt you or heal you
Anyone who can reach you
Can love you or leave you
(Natasha Bedingfield “I Bruise Easily”)

Maybe redemption has stories to tell
maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened before
(Switchfoot “I Dare You to Move”)

Fumbling his confidence
And wondering why the world has passed him by
Hoping that he's bent for more than arguments
And failed attempts to fly, fly
We were meant to live for so much more
(Switchfoot “Meant to Live”)

Learning to breathe
I'm learning to crawl
I'm finding that You and You alone can break my fall
I'm living again, awake and alive
I'm dying to breathe in these abundant skies
Hello, good morning, how you been?
Yesterday left my head kicked in
I never, never thought that
I would fall like that
Never knew that I could hurt this bad
(Switchfoot “Learing to Breath”)

These next lines, I’m speaking things that aren’t true as though they are…  My shadow has yet to prove sunshine, but “we know all things work together for the glory or those that love the Lord.”  

Sunshine, won't you be my mother
Sunshine, come and help me sing
My heart is darker than these oceans
My heart is frozen underneath

To scared that I'll run always
Hold fast to the break of day light where
The shadow proves the sunshine

Oh Lord, why did you forsake me?
Oh Lord, don't be far away away
Storm clouds gathering beside me
Please Lord, don't look the other way
(Switchfoot “The Shadow Proves the Sunshine”)

There’s a certain Eamon song that is rather explicit and won’t be quoted on this site, but mm, I’m kinda feeling it too these days.

One Stab: She was like the water that freezes inside a rock and breaks it apart. It was no more her fault than it is the fault of the water when the rock shatters
(From Legends of the Fall)

Sometimes we need to believe that things happen not because of malicious tendencies of other people.  We can choose to believe that they follow these behavior patterns because of their own weaknesses and choose to feel love for them.  Perhaps it is our own naivety that would rather believe in that option than to believe that people willfully manipulate and use people to get what they want.  I know, for me, the only way to heal is believe that the water is not to blame for the rock shattering…  the rock had to have a crack in the first place right?  And is that the fault of the rock?  Or just the way the rock was created to exist?  Everything happens for a reason.  The lesson is in the learning (that was in a movie I just saw…  I forget what movie)

some snow pics

A close up of the bench.


This is the before picture of the veiw from my bedroom window. Notice the bench.



Same view from my bedroom window. What happened to the bench? I don't know... Could it be burried under all that snow?

The temperature is just above freezing today. It doesn't
feel any warmer, but the ice and snow is starting to melt now, so it must be a bit warmer.

Well, I've had my first white Thanksgiving.

After

So, this is the same view, but on Wednesday morning! Whoa! I've never seen this much snow before Thanksgiving!

This was the snow on Saturday morning. Later, I'll load the pictures of this morning and then, pictures of this afternoon. I've been told that it snowed all night, and it hasn't stopped in the two hours I've been up. EEK! I hope my holiday guests can make it alright!

My Own Winter Wonderland (yeah, i'm wonderin' how I'm going to last a winter that is 6 months long!)

I woke up this morning really tired and a bit late.  Thank God Wednesdays are my late mornings.  I don’t have class today until 10:35.  Last night I was VERY cold.  I had been out in town shopping, and it started to snow.  This is snow on top of the layer of ice on the ground.  I went home, cooked, turned on my heater, and started a load of laundry (this has been avoided for quite some time because the clothes have to be wrung out, and that is a very cold process these days).  About 9:30, my power went out.  My first thought: “I’m going to freeze of hypothermia and no one will notice I’m dead until next spring when I start to melt and smell awful.”  Then I thought to check if other places have power.  Hm, the neighbors downstairs had their lights on.  At that point I realized that I had blown the circuit.  I went downstairs and made my dyado landlord get out of bed.  I felt SO badly.  I checked the fuses, found the one that was bad (I do not like these old school fuses.  Why can’t I just flip a switch and everything is happy again?) and took it to Dyado Pesho.  We worked together on a series of solutions and after an hour, we were both able to go back to rest.  The details are for another episode of “Razlogshki Ingenuity.”  All that is to say, that well, I don’t know why I’m telling you that.  

So when I woke up this morning, I found a FOOT of snow on the ground.  A foot!  At least.  Last night, before the fuse incident, I was sitting with my Baba and Dyado, eating pallachinki and Ruska Salata, and being reminded of how cold it gets here.  “Snow up to here” (as he points to his chest).  He proceeds to tell me that in winter, that it stays around -20 C, and folks can’t go to school or work because of the snow.  “Stiga be,” I say and laugh.  He’s got to be pulling my leg right?  Well, after this morning, I may believe him.  It hasn’t gotten above freezing since Friday night.  A little bit of the snow and ice we’ve accumulated (which even I could say wasn’t much) began to melt yesterday afternoon when we had several consecutive hours of very bright clouds.  (Bright enough that you can see where the sun should be.  

Well, I guess I’ll load up some pictures and get ready for school.  I reckon some one would call me if there wasn’t school.  And here, where the snow comes to here (I’m pointing to my chest), what’s a foot of snow anyway?  Oh, I think I just realized why all the girls tuck their pants into their boots.  What if my legs and pants can’t both fit into my boots??  Oh, POOR MEGI!

Beauty and Busrides, God and Elvis, Smog and Truth

So, my mommy dear sent me a pretty fun package. It included a book I’d been requesting. Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. I love the fact that I can download sermons from Mars Hill and get deeply honest, personal, and intelligent insights into the Bible, community, and Christian life. Well, one sermon addressed the issues that the recent release of his book had brought up. So, of course, I had to find out more! If you check out this book at Amazon.com you will find a great debate! People are outraged over this book. Christians are outraged over this book. GOTTA HAVE IT!

So now I’ve got this book. I can hardly put it down. I have a big break on Fridays now; second through fourth periods are free. Normally I go home and piddle around. I stayed at school and read all day! This book is great! I HIGHLY recommend it, especially if you are mad at Christians for any reason. Oh, and while you’re at it, read Blue Like Jazz by Don Miller.

So, a little bit of commentary on my new favorite book. Bell talks about how God is the ultimate reality. We don’t “take God” to the “unreached peoples.” God doesn’t “show up” in a moment of really great worship. He was already there. “I am.” “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1 NIV). If God is the ultimate reality, the ultimate real-ness, to be redundant, then He is the ultimate Truth. So, vice versa, if something is True is it God? I don’t mean to get all wacky new age-y here. Bell argues that there is more to Truth than the Bible, but does not take away from the True-ness of the Bible. I think this is why people are hot over this book.

I think it’s incredibly refreshing! Please read the book and let me know what you think! If you are irritated by my horrible revision of this difficult subject: sorry ‘bout it! That’s why I didn’t write the book! (and I didn’t think of it, and I’m not so much a “writer,” and…)

So, I had just finished reading a bit about having these moments that are beyond words. I walked out into the hallway because my class was supposed to start soon. I looked out the window. The fog, by 2:00 had finally lifted a bit and I was able to see the mountains. They are absolutely covered in snow. The clouds still covered the peaks of the mountains. There was one spot where the clouds had opened up and the sun poured through. I don’t know why exactly, but seeing the sun pour through the clouds and with the right amount of smog and pollution, I always feel like God is sending down a bit of a hug.

There was one bus trip over the summer when I felt particularly dejected. I think I actually wanted to feel miserable. There were patches of clouds all through the sky. I just sat next to the window and watched the farms rolled by. I think I was having a conversation about the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen. I couldn’t think of any one most beautiful moment. I said, look out side. Today, that is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. That kiss from God. That hug that reminds me that I am loved and warmed (okay, I probably didn’t say that because it was summer, but it’s cold now and I need warming) and held. That is a present from God and it is Beauty. If you believe in that kinda thing… ; P

True love is... like gold to airy thinness beat

A VALEDICTION: FORBIDDING MOURNING
by John Donne


As virtuous men pass mildly away,
   And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
   "Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."

So let us melt, and make no noise,
   No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
'Twere profanation of our joys
   To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;
   Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,
   Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love
   -Whose soul is sense- cannot admit
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove
   The thing which elemented it.

But we by a love so much refined,
   That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
   Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
   Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
   Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
   As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
   To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
   Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
   And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
   Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
   And makes me end where I begun.

I thought this would be an appropriate post because it's thanksgiving season and I wanted to express my thankfulness for everyone who keeps me grounded, for those people in my life that keep my circle just. I know one day I will end where I begun…  Perhaps that is not a physical place, but a state.

I know this is not an appropriate poem because it is the most beautifully romantic and loving poem, and well, that's not exactly the place I am at these days. But this poem has a story...

I fell in love with poetry twice. Once in a class I hated high school. My senior AP English class. I spent most of my time messing around with a friend who, like me was disappointed in this class. Occasionally I would enter into the discussions our teacher had planned out for us. My favorite part of this class was Perrine. Perrine's Sound and Sense  Every day we quickly discussed two poems from this little poetry reader. All of these years later, Perrine is with me on the other side of the world. My ratty little book opens directly to page 75. This page has more writing than any other page. This is poem 55: "A Valediction: Forbidding Morning"

I fell in love with poetry twice. Again in college. My degree is in English, so I've read and studied a few poems. I don't claim to be the most well read, or even well read at all. I knew how to play the college system effectively. I attended one of my favorite college classes the first semester of my junior year. It was my first year back "in town" at the local state school I swore I was above only a few years before. "Fairy tales, folk tales, and ancient children's literature" There was this little Asian girl in my class that looked awfully familiar to me. After a few classes, we realized that we had been in V.Smith's AP Senior English class together. She loved Vicki's class. Vicki helped me to realize I could be a teacher, if she could. I mean that in the nicest way. She didn't really teach that much, but she had the biggest heart. I don't want to take away from what she's done for kids in our area who don't have a lot of hope..She tries to help young people see their God-given potential. But that's not what I needed. I needed literature. I needed poetry. I did not need to know that I had a purpose. I knew that.

Anyway. That little Asian girl became my best friend. Two years out high school. I had dissolved all of my friendships at home and started a life six hours away. Then God pulled me out of that life and sent me back home. That class taught me the value of stories that go beyond culture, the deeper nature of all stories, and the epic nature of life for children and adults. That class matched me with the young woman who would support me in some of my most dire moments. We helped each other cope with crazy English professors. She helped me to love the Romantics. We always had a way of sharing some insight into life lit by a poet, novel, or song or Scripture by which we'd recently been enlightened.  Together we fell in love with the archetypal princess who must be rescued from eminent danger. She is my princess.

We've not always been there for each other. She's been on the other side of the world when I needed her. I had to face the fear of watching a Harry Potter movie alone because my Sister was in London. But when we get together we are one hundred percent there for each other. Unless she's off in lalaland somewhere, in which case I can kindly say, "Pay attention to me please" and she does.

No, we've not always been there for each other. I am in Bulgaria. I have needed her shoulder много пъти. Now, she is facing the hardest time of her life and I am here, in Bulgaria. Darling, please know that "Our two souls therefore, which are one,/ Though I must go, endure not yet/ a breach, but an expansion,/ Like gold to aery thinness beat." I love you and am so thankful for all the times you've been my "fixed foot." I am mourning with you and crying for your aching heart. Be reminded: Psalm 139.    

Hm, my life doesn't rate so well...

I promise, I answered all the questions honestly, even a bit optimistically. I don't know what happened. Okay, so I don't exercise every day. But I read literature. Whatever, they don't know what they're talking about.

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	6.2
Mind:	5.9
Body:	7
Spirit:	8.3
Friends/Family:	4
Love:	0.8
Finance:	7.1
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

Melting into Winter

Things happen so quickly here.  It seems like it was just summer.  Now the corn fields are bare and frozen over.  The trees have lost most of their leaves.  Winter.  I am ready.

Spring turned to summer and I found out who my family is.  I learned who of my Bulgarian and American friends here would become my support, comfort, and love.  I learned where and how I could find little bits of ‘home.’  

Summer turned to fall and I fell.  I fell into a strange place of loneliness and longing.  I was bored and unsatisfied.  In me had opened up a gaping hole of desire for anything I did not have.  Achieving bits of satisfaction only whetted my appetite.  

Fall is beginning to freeze over.  Now I have little fear of winter.  I was petrified that I would be so lonely this winter.  I was unable to see the love around me in my town.  I’m getting there.  

This culture is different from American culture of course, but also from the cultural temperature of other towns in Bulgaria.  At first I thought no one here really cared.  I thought my only source of love for the next two years would be from other PCVs and my family in Krichim.  I am slowly seeing the love these folks have for me.  Perhaps I have to ask, invite myself, or enter into some emotional drama, but it’s there.  In my culture, the honor is on the opposite side:  You honor your new neighbor by inviting them to your house or bringing them brownies.  We say, “Welcome to the neighborhood.”  Here, I honor my neighbors by inviting myself.  I demand welcoming by baking strange things they’ve never seen before.  Here it is my responsibility.  The burden is on me.  Why shouldn’t it be?  These people have friends, family and good neighbors to take care of.  Who am I to think I could just walk in and be loved?  I’ll have to earn it.  And slowly (бавно по бавно) I am.  

The Power of One

They say one is the loneliest number.  In math, one doesn’t usually change anything, when it does, it’s just a little bit.  I think that one is a pretty amazing number though.  

My town isn’t very integrated, in fact, the Roma aren’t even a part of the town.  There aren’t many ethnic Turks in my town.  We have another not so ethnic minority.  They’re called Pomatsi.  I’m not sure if that’s derogatory or not.  I’ve only heard them referred to in one other way that I am sure was derogatory.  These are ethnic Bulgarians who have converted to Islam.  This is the only group that stands out as separate.  But they seem to get along fine.

I recently had a heavy discussion in my eighth grade class.  Our text book had a lesson on the simple past using the story of Steve Biko, the South African man who died fighting the Apartheid system.  We talked a bit about racism.  This is difficult with my students because their English is pretty limited.  Most of it was done with my best student translating the opinions of other students.  We talked about racism in America.  I asked if something like Apartheid still exists in the world.  One of my bright students, who will try to say anything, even when he doesn’t know the English, said it still does here, gori dowo (so-so).  “Pepi, what do you mean?”  I asked.  He proceeds to talk about how the Bulgarians and the Romi do everything separately here.  But he goes on to say that this is because the Romi think differently.  “All of them?” I ask.  Pepi tells me that no, not all of them, “Vish, tia e stabilno momiche.”  Pepi points across the room to the 17 year old girl sitting quietly at her desk.  She wears a pink corduroy jacket and a shy smile everyday.  She is the only Roma student I have.  I believe there are very few others in my school.  (It is an “elite” school, so we have students from out of our “zoning” who study English, and students from within our “zoning” who study normally.  As we don’t have Romi in our zone, so they’d have to pass an English language test to study with us).  Pepi seems to think that this one Roma girl is stable.  He goes on to talk about how most of “them” don’t want to study, they just want to fight, it’s better that they are outside of town…  

All I could do was emphasize their acceptance that this is not true for all Romi.  In many schools across this country, the example is the opposite.  I can’t say whose fault it is.  Is someone holding these people down?  The government, the ethnic Bulgarians, the school system, themselves?  Yup.  All of the above.  I am just grateful that these 25 Bulgarian 13 year olds see this One 17 year old working diligently to learn English so she can make something of her life.  

How many times in our lives has one made a difference?  It only takes One bad apple, right?  One first impression.  One time you hurt me and I cut you out of my life.  One picture is worth a thousand words.  One person can make or break a stereotype.  One student who listens makes it worth the rest of the disruptions.  We all have the One good teacher who shaped our academic destinies, in a good or a bad way.  Of course, there’s the example of Jesus!  He is the One person who has most significantly impacted human history, even if you don’t believe in what we Christians say about him.  And if you do believe us, he is the One person who opened up the gates of heaven for the world.  

Yeah, we’ve got to have faith in the One.  

"If" by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Today's Song, or parts of it

Some times a day is best summarized in someone else’s words.  Today is one of those days.  I greatly identify with songs.  Someone else, at some time has felt exactly, or very nearly exactly, as I do right now.  That God some of those people write down what they feel.  Other people write down exactly how it is I want to feel.  I love Jennifer Knapp’s songs because they are so deeply authentic.  Today, this is my song.  For when I don’t have the energy to make words out of my feelings, there’s always a song…

Jennifer Knapp  “Into You”

she’s a wanna be hero
yeah she tries to be strong
at the end of the hour
you find out the tower ain’t standing so tall
It’s a real hard thing
to show your weakness
If anyone can love you I know my King does

I wanna know you
better than I do
relieve me from myself, bring me into you
i wanna know you
better than I do
Oh relieve me, lead me, bring me
Bring me into
Your Holiness
Your Kingdom
Your righteousness
My freedom

she’s an easy scare
she’s a simple bluff
she’s a timid girl
she’s in love

I want to know you
better than I do
relieve me from myself
bring me into you
i wanna know you
better than I do
Oh relieve me, lead me, bring me
Bring me into you

The State of my Soul ...as if i really understood it

My head is full of thoughts today.  I have too much to do to be thinking!  

Some where in my soul, I desire loneliness.  I know this is incredibly strange.  I fight loneliness with most of my being.  

I hung my laundry out to dry this morning.  The sun was shining on my back in such a way that one could easily forget winter has already fallen upon us.  It occurred to me that I am in a state of needing things I do not desire.  Perhaps the opposite is true as well.  Perhaps I am desiring things I do not need.  This is the explanation for my longing for loneliness.  My soul knows what it is that I need and plants a small desire for that thing, this loneliness, in so deep a place that no matter how I dig and uproot my insides, I cannot remove that desire.  

Why in God’s name would any person’s soul desire loneliness.  It is when we are least distracted that God can truly speak to us.  I have been more alone these last four months than at any point in my life.  I have learned so much about myself.  I have grown intensely, despaired profoundly, and wept deeply.  All of these things I have done partly to answer the desire of my soul and partly to fight it.  

How can you cause me the deepest pain at this point in my journey?  Tell me about your friends, about your good times, about your loves.  Funny how the one thing you want to feel the most, you cannot, but it seems everyone around you does.  I understand that God is using these days to teach me something that will prepare me to be a woman better, stronger, and more useful to him.  Unfortunately, and while I know it should, that does not make the process any easier for me.  Further more, I feel myself asking the question, “God, why is it so important that I accept and learn to thrive in a state of being so alone?”  That is a question which may have very frightening answers; answers I am undoubtedly not ready to hear.  

So we are back to questions again.  My summer and fall of loving questions have apparently slipped into a winter with more of the same.  

It occurs to me that most of this blog is comprised of long and windy complaints and ramblings concerning my own discontent.  You may wonder if it is possible that I be contented.  You are not alone; I frequently ask myself if I am flawed in such a way that my own discontentedness is too far lodged into the pattern of me to be removed or retrained.  Don’t worry, though.  I have plenty of spots of joy.  This loneliness, while it is weighing and trying, does not consume my joy.  There is a tremendous amount of joy to be reaped here.  I live in a beautiful town.  I teach generally well behaved, motivated students.  I work at a relatively efficiently organized school with high standards for its English-studying students.  I do not, however, feel loved here.  And perhaps, that is the deepest burden on my soul.  I know!  I should learn to rest in the Love that, while slightly removed, is much deeper and stronger.  I’m working on that.

I Am a Friend of God

It’s a funny thing...  well, I use funny because I don't know the right word.  I got all this music from my Church right.  I don't have any resolution to my worries.  But I don't mind not thinking about them.  The funny thing is in looking away.  Looking away: a pure type of avoidance; taking a few extra minutes each day, to not think about me, but to be with God. Not petitioning, not even conversing.  Just loving.

Then I think about the people who I know are loving him right now too.  I think about my pastor's family who is worshiping unquestioningly a God who at this very moment may be slowly removing their mother/wife from this physical world.  I think about one of our associate pastors and his wife, who have worshipped endlessly as God took his wife from life to death and life again, and through the process of relearning how to live after a debilitating experience.  I think about the group of girls that sit in the middle right section during the second service.  They occupy the first 8 rows at least.  They don't sit, they don't occupy, they do something amazing.  These girls come and they worship in the most pure, unashamed, uninhibited way because they've already seen themselves as impure, ashamed, or inhibited.  These are the Mercy girls.  They are involved in our mission organizations for girls and young women dealing with pregnancy, adoption, abortion, eating disorders, whatever...  These girls have reached spiritual death and will praise God in an incredibly pure way for anyone to see.  Then I, sitting here in my room, hear my song.  So simple, "I Am a Friend of God."
 
Who am I that you are mindful of me
That you hear me when I call
Is true that you are thinking of me
How you love me
It's amazing!
 
I am a friend of God
I am a friend of God, He calls me friend.
 
God almighty Lord of Glory
You have called me friend
     (“I Am a Friend of God” by Israel Houghton)
 
This song is my anthem.  This is my tough time default song.  This is what I hum when I'm desperately sad.  At some points during the summer, singing this was my only source of Joy.  It is truly amazing how turning your face to God, no matter how filthy, sad, or dark your soul feels, turning your face to God will make not only your face shine, but your whole spirit.  I can understand how, after spending time in the presence of God, Moses came down from the mountain with a face glowing.  When you have been in the presence of God, what else matters?  Not my silly worries! 

My Mountains

I try to remember that these mountains are beauty and strength and economy here. I try not to feel trapped, locked in, suffocated by them. Days like today remind me of the wonder and imagination of the Creator! I wish I could have captured the scent of the mountains and the purity of the air. I wish my camera could truly show you the beauty of my mountains! 

Dobarsko

What can I say besides amazing? This was taken in the mountains above Dobarsko, the village of one of my students. 

Quiet Saturday

Ah Saturdays.  I love them.  I am for once excited for a relatively quiet weekend.  I’ve decided that only very important events will require me to spend the night any where other than my own flat through these winter months.  Last weekend I spent one night away and it took several days to reheat my flat.  This huge metal rectangle that know lives in my living room sucks up so much electricity that I should only run it at night, when it is cheaper.  The next day it “radiates” the heat all day.  It’s working alright.  Of course, winter hasn’t fully hit yet.  Well, yes, there is frost every morning.  And yes, we have had snow already.  Of course, the mountains that bind me in are all capped in white.  But, like the babi love to remind me, winter brings snow up to here and it gets to negative 20 (that’s usually somewhere around there knees, and C).  

My quiet weekend needs my attention.  Two other PCVs will stay with me tonight, and we will visit a PCV in a nearby town.  Tomorrow, I will go to the village of one of my students.  She has invited the class to her village for food and I don’t know what all.  I’m just so excited that they asked, and were excited when I said I’d come!  

Sorry for a random blog…  Have a great whatever!

Razlogshki Ingenuity

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this to anyone, but it is cold in Razlog.  People here are wearing their leather jackets and all the roofs have smoke pouring from chimneys... except mine. 
 
I have one of those huge heaters they call "radiators."  The kind that plug into a special contact and look like a big metal storage chest full of bricks, I guess.  It has been in my bedroom.  I only sleep, dress, and do my hair and make up in my bedroom.  That is not very much awake time.  In my other room I cook, work, read, write, study, and watch TV.  It just makes SENSE to put the heater in here. 
 
So my landlord (Stephan) wanted an electrician to come over and look at the contact in the big room.  Three weeks later, our tech teacher came over, said all is peachy.  He sent a couple of miesters (sp??) over to move the incredibly heavy thing.  They came over and brought my dyado landlord up.  Dyado Lachinov says this heater can't heat up the big room.  It heats up the little room quite nicely, but the big room is too cold.  Diana, their last renter, only heated the small bedroom and spent all her time in there, or sleeping downstairs in baba's room.  That's what I should do too.  HUH?
 
Well, I went to school and told the tech teacher what happened and he scolded me for letting them not move it.  Then he and my counterpart had a five-minute private council.  Oh, by the way, yesterday, after the miestri left, they came back with this ghetto scary space heater.  It did a decent job of heating my big room as long as it was constantly going.  How can this big heater not heat my room?  I may have to turn it on a bit early, or let it run a bit past "cheap hours," but...  ah! 
 
SO...  I ran into my director who firmly insisted that I should not be argued with.  She'll send the miestri back over and they will move it!  I had first period today, and no more classes till 5th.  So the miestri came over after first.  It became a family affair.  Baba Zorka came up and helped me move all of the rugs around.  Stephan moved some of the furniture.  The miestri came in with four short pieces of big metal piping and a long wooden dowel.  They proceeded to use the dowel as a lever and put the metal pipe pieces under the heater.  They managed to roll that monster into the big room, turn it around, and put it against the wall. 
 
Then they left.  My flat was a mess!  Pieces of the wall on the floor, furniture all over both rooms, carpets all pulled back.  So I swept the floor, drug the wooden storage chest to the place the heater had been, and put back all of my carpets.  I'm not sure where to put my armchair, so I'm sitting in it, in the middle of my big room. 
 
Today, I am one step closer to being warm!!

Still Avoiding Work

Still avoiding work…

For fear that some one might stop by my blog and not read Vassi’s great words from a comment, I’m putting some of them out here.  It’s okay to just relax into that…  Darling, I don’t suppose there is any earthly way you could know how aptly your words have been timed!  

Regardless of what happens, don't ever forget that...you're beautiful, no matter what...you're divine, no matter what...and you're perfectly loved, no matter what. You are always held, like a baby, by the Lover of all. It's okay to just relax into that sometimes and let go of everything else outside of you.

I had a bit of a revelation today.

I’ve been looking for a sense of security.  I’ve been searching for safety.  I’ve been longing for promises that can’t be kept.  I’ve been asking questions that can’t be answered.  My theme this summer was to be full in my solitude.  This fall I have been trying to love the questions.  They’ve been Rilke kind of days.  This loving the questions thing, I almost had it down.  Then more questions came up.  Well, isn’t that nice!  

Have you ever felt so intensely in one moment that you are sure nothing could make you doubt those feelings are right and pure and good?  Have you ever had that intensity so abruptly shifted, as if one thing that supported your weight disappeared into thin air and you fall a million miles in one second?  You fall into that deep abyss of questions and fears and worries and insecurities?  You’ve lost the ability to love the distances (another Rilke allusion, see July 13th post for quote).  The distance is the fear?  The abyss is the insecurity?  I’m sure you’ve been there.  

I was there recently.  It hurt so badly and so deeply.  Of course, it started me on an intense journey of questioning.  Why do I need to feel safe?  What will it take to make me feel safe?  Why don’t I feel safe already?  What exactly will provide this security I desire?  It took about 36 hours, maybe less.  I was typing an email expressing my fears and I realized, “Why am I telling you this?  What do I expect you to do for me?”  Oh, I felt like a fool.  The answer had been sitting in front of me.  Had someone else come to me with my own heart, it would not take more than one second to think and say, “You are looking to all the wrong sources for your safety and security.  Don’t you know you can never find the security you desire except through the love of God?  Only God will keep you safe.”  
It is funny how you offer advice to people, and believe it with all of your heart.  But when you need to hear it, you think up a thousand other things to occupy your mind with worry so that you won’t get to the issue.  Well, I got to the issue today.  I’m looking for security and safety in the wrong sources.  I would have thought, after my summer of learning to be alone, and my fall of loving questions, I could start this winter feeling safe, held, and warmed in the hands of God.  

There are no promises in life.  I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I know that the keeper of the world is also the keeper of my destiny and the safety of his plans may include seasons of love, pain, beauty, and loneliness.  But my season is no more than a line in the story of my life, important and possibly altering all lines that follow, but not that large.  I must remind my soul that it is only one line, and the story…  the story has a great ending…

Psalm 42: 5 – Why are you depressed, O my soul?  Why are you upset?  Wait for God!  For I will again give thanks to my God for his saving intervention.  (NET)

I was a bit bored tonight so I started looking at my pictures. Last time I was in Krichim, I made hot fudge pudding cake. My Krichim-cousin Berin helped, that's her on the left. My host sister laughed and made me wear an apron because she says I can't cook. So, it overflowed a bit because I didn't have a proper cake pan, but it was VERY yummy! 

Maegen Endert's List of Failures, Summer '05

Summer Project Report ‘05
Maegen Endert’s List of Failures, Summer ‘05
How to have a crummy summer

As presented to the TEFL staff of US PC Bulgaria, enjoy…

     It had been my intention to assess the needs and desires of my school and community before developing any type of project.  My hope was, at the least, I would be able to teach over the summer.  After arriving in Razlog, my counterpart and I began discussing projects that I could be involved in over the summer.  Over the course of the summer several ideas were discussed; some even began.  However, nothing seemed to work out.  These “failures” have been vital in my education on the culture and climate of my community.  I use the term failure loosely here, because I have failed to produce a reportable project, but I have not failed to use my summer as completely as I could.  These words are the story of my summer…

     It had been determined that my task should be to search online for cultural exchange projects in which the research had been completed and our school could become involved.  The goal of these projects was to obtain moneys in order to purchase books.  For several days I was asked to work on this task in the computer lab at school.  I quickly determined that with out the help of interested students, this is not a feasible project.  Furthermore, I assessed that this is not a project that can be completed in one summer.  

     The director of my school, Mrs. Mariana Popodina, suggested that I begin teaching English to the teachers.  I informed her that I would very much like to be teaching and would begin as soon as she wanted.  As I was at school daily, I began to talk about this class with the teachers on duty.  Some seemed eager to learn English, but when asked when they could have class, they would not give me a convenient time or day.  Others indicated they had not been made aware of this class.  The director informed me in mid-August that she would like for me to begin teaching on September 1, 2005.  This class was canceled however, due to the hectic nature of this time of year.  

     In July, my counterpart decided that I should design a website.  Because of communication difficulties between us, I was not clear if she wanted an English Department site, or a site for the school.  She did not know if the school already had a site.  I inquired as to which students she had in mind for such a project.  She said there are some students from her class who have quite advanced computer skills and had scheduled a meeting with them.  At this meeting were two boys from the 10th class.  It was conducted entirely in Bulgarian and lasted about ten minutes.  When I noticed the meeting was wrapping up, I asked what was going on.  I was informed that these boys would work on the website.  I asked if they would be coming to school so we could work on it together.  The plan was that the boys would work on it together in their homes.  I would later help with translation.  After two weeks, I asked Yulia, my counterpart, how they are doing.  She informed me that the boys did not have a program with which to design this site.  I told her that if we could use the school’s computer lab it would not be a problem.  She did not think that was a feasible option.  At the end of the summer Yulia informed me that one of the two boys had worked very hard on a website and was quite angry at her for “abandoning him.”  
     Outside of school, I’m afraid my limited contacts here inhibited my community involvement.  Through the wife of my landlord, I met the counterpart of Chad Dahlman, one of the two other PCVs in Razlog.  Chad works for a non-profit business center.  I stopped by there several times to use the internet and always offered my help in whatever way possible to his counterpart.  I was told, as it is summer, the students that normally come in to use the English language programs would be quite difficult to organize.  Harmonie Bettenhausen, Chad’s wife and a YD PCV, was also quite busy all summer.  She welcomed my involvement in her programs once school started, but through the summer she would not be working that much with them either.  My counterpart, Yulia, while quite familiar with Razlog and the school, has only lived here a bit over a year.  While I did not see the significance of this at first, after living in Bulgaria, and particularly Razlog, the importance of making “connections” has become increasingly clear.  
     It seems that most of the problems I encountered this summer were a compilation of poor communication and a lack of follow through.  I feared being annoying, so I perhaps allowed spans of time too large between my inquiries, or simply asked too infrequently.  My counterpart, on the other hand, was suffering under a huge burden of stress that she only shared with my once school had started.  At the end of the long weekend we recently had, she appeared quite tired and stressed.  When I asked about her weekend and time spent with her family, Yulia informed me that her father is dying from a cancer that has metastasized and is poisoning most of his vital organs.  This would explain why she had been so distant and, in my perception, unreliable through out the summer.  
     Now that summer is over and school has begun, I am able to reflect on the summer, on what I wish had gone differently, and what I might do differently now.  I am becoming increasingly aware of the role my school would like for me to play.  At this point, it seems they are grateful for my ability to speak English with their students, but all of the teachers are very busy and quite reluctant to give up any of their time to help me.  I wish I had known earlier that I would have to “plow my own road” here.  Although I do not know if that knowledge would have had a very large impact on my “success” this summer, as my connections and Bulgarian language ability were, and still are, not good enough to integrate into this community entirely on my own.  Although I am still utterly confused as to how to go about effectively communicating my professional ideas and requesting help, I have learned my “southern sensibilities,” a.k.a. politeness, or without the euphemism, vagueness is not the answer.  My fear is that in this “high context culture” I will over step my bounds in my need to communicate, be understood, and seek help, thereby loosing my respectability as an educator.   Now that I am in the classroom and working with my students, I can begin to gauge their needs, not only linguistically, but also in this community, a vital aspect as they will play a vital role in the future of this nation.  

Avoiding Work with a Post

It’s lazy Sundays like today that I miss some of the comforts of the States.  I walked out of the bathroom with cold hands because I forgot to turn on my hot water heater last night.  Because of my negligence, I don’t have enough hot water to take a shower today.  Even though my hair is clean enough to go out, I don’t think I will.  Somewhere between the bathroom and the not so cozy armchair (which is not very far), I realized I am quite hungry.  It is 1:30 after all, and all I’ve had to eat today was a piece of coffee cake that my landlady brought over.  Not five minutes after I rolled out of bed she was knocking at my door inviting me over for coffee. (She must have been listening for my toilet to flush)  Lady, I’m still in my pajamas here, let alone still with yucky sticky morning teeth.  She brought coffee to my flat, as her boys are still asleep.  

So yeah, I’m still hungry and missing comforts.  In my hunger and laziness I wish for a frozen Sam’s Club lasagna that I could throw into the oven. Or, even better, the ability to, in my “just rolled out of bed,” undressed, unbrushed, pajamas and toe-socks state, hop in my Jeep and run down to Taco Bell for the afternoon breakfast of champions.  Breakfast, only because it’s the first meal of the day, even though it is afternoon and clearly NOT breakfast food.  It gets tiring to make breakfast from scratch, although I can make killer apple pancakes (talk about work!!).   In my coldness I wish for a heater that worked and more winter clothes.  In my loneliness I wish that my most meaningful English language conversations weren’t delayed and confused by my ability to punch this keyboard.  

But on the bright side…  

…It’s not raining today!  It rained ALL DAY yesterday.  It really started to pour around 7pm.  I’m not sure when it began, but I noticed around 8:30 that I had a nasty leak in my ceiling.  I informed my landlady right away.  Of course, I don’t know how to say, “My ceiling is leaking” in Bulgarian.  I go over and say, “I have a problem.”  Lili, my landlady, looks at me with great concern.  I point to the ceiling and say, “Water.”  Profound.  I’m back to communicating like a two year old.  Fabulous.  today.  no water. sun.  better. me like.  

…The boring weekend is almost over and tomorrow I can go back to school and both deal with and love the chaos that is my school.  I have a blast in my classes.  I’m still not sure where I fit in, in my school, among my English teacher colleagues, in this town.  The only thing I do know is that I belong in that classroom.  I still don’t know exactly what it is I’m supposed to be teaching these kids.  For now, that does not matter.  Well, that’s what I keep telling myself.  

…My face looks a bit better today.  I went for a “facial” yesterday.  Now, I’ve never had a facial before, neither Bulgarian nor American.  I suppose if I took better care of my skin and went more regularly, I’d be a bit better off today.  I’ll tell you what, that hurt.  I was expecting massages and cucumbers and masques.  Well, you might could call that a massage, and I sure did get a masque (you wanna talk about tight!).  Never in my life, have I…  Even though my face looked like radioactive minefield yesterday, it felt really fresh and clean.  So I’ll probably go back next month.  What can I say?  I’m a glutton for punishment, always have been, right ma?  

Well, I’m going to go back to work on my Summer Project Report, or as I like to call it, “How to Have a Crummy Summer,” or “Maegen’s List of Failures.”  Maybe I’ll post that later.

Great Advice

Great advice to anyone away (physically or emotionally) and changing…

“But everything that may someday be possible for many people, the solitary man can now, already, prepare and build with his own hands, which make fewer mistakes. Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away, you write, and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast. And if what is near you is far away, then your vastness is already among the stars and is very great; be happy about your growth, in which of course you can't take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust. Avoid providing material for the drama, that is always stretched tight between parent and children; it uses up much of the children's strength and wastes the love of the elders, which acts and warms even if it doesn't comprehend Don't ask for any advice from them and don't expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.”
     Rainer Maria Rilke  from Letters to a Young Poet

Updates

Update on the mouse:
Няамам! I had the cat around. She inspected the flat, except for my bedroom which was quickly closed off. I DO NOT want any dang fleas! After climbing on my table, counter, and into the sink, she finally showed she was content with the place by curling up on the couch. Then the little pill of a mouse started scratching around again. Oh, kitty didn't like that. She ran over, prowled behind the oven, chased mousie, SHE CAUGHT HIM!! I was so excited!! Like any good cat, she played with her kill for a bit. I used a newspaper and a plastic bag to rid my floor of the dead mouse. I applauded kitty. I returned kitty and the mouse trap and left the dead mouse in the newspapers in the bag at the foot of the stairs. It's kind of hard to explain in Bulgarian, "Hi, thanks for letting me borrow your cat. Here she is, she's sufficiently de-pested my flat." So I just pointed to the bag and said "Всичко е добре!" "Everything's okay!" No more mouse trap, no more cat, no more mouse!!

Some one I hadn't emailed in a while asked me how I was doing. What an overwhelming question! This is how I summed it up for him..
A few of the things I learned this summer and am still learning now... In no particular order.
1. It's okay to not be productive for a bit. Maybe you need to grow before you can produce.
2. It's okay to be lonely for a short season. It helps you to recognize the importance of the love you receive.
3. Silence is a chance for God to cause you to pull closer to him, like a teacher who whispers from the front of the class so the noisy brat in the back will have to be quiet in order to hear anything.
4. You've got to love everything, even the questions, "love all that is unresolved in your heart... try to love the questions themselves." R.M. Rilke.  If you don't learn to love the questions, the answers will always be too big for you to understand. You have to love the mystery before you can truly understand the resolution, the conclusion.
5. Maybe it IS better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
6. There are a lot of things, people, and events in my life that I have a habit of turning to for comfort before I turn to The Comforter. A season of solitude will quickly begin working that out of a person.    

Bulgarian Mice

Bulgarian mouse trap.

So here's a fun story about my life in Bulgaria. One night I had the married couple PCVs over for a bit of watermelon and rakia. Chad looks strangely past me and tells me I have a friend. "Huh?" Chad gets up and walks slowly over to my stove. I turn around. Chad walks back and sits down. "There was a mouse sitting over there."

"Oh, you are KIDDING!!" I said.
"Um, okay, I'm kidding." Chad unconvincingly responded.
"Oh no oh no oh no oh no," I wailed.

So I kept on the look out for my new friend. I saw none of the signs of mouse life. No nibbled on food kept in the cupboards, no mouse droppings in the corner. But I kept hearing things.

Between the first alleged mouse appearance and today, the first actual mouse appearance, I have been trying to convince myself there is no mouse. I hadn't seen one after all. A fellow PCV visited me one weekend and told me I was hearing things, that he couldn't hear the little scratchy noises I could hear at night.

Everything changed with a piece of bread. I was making grilled cheese sandwiches one evening with this absolutely wonderful American processed cheese (just like velveeta cheese slices!!) that I had found in Blagoevgrad. I lifted my sandwich-in-progress out of the skillet a bit to look at the bottom... And whoopsie daisies... My sammich done falt apart. The top piece of bread just flipped off and flew behind the stove. I was in the middle of grilling my yummy, oowie-gooie-cheezzzy sandwich, so I decided I would fetch my bread later. Well, sometimes megi here forgets what she says she'll do later.

Funny thing, that same fellow PCV came to visit again this weekend. I told him, "I haven't heard anything from my mousy friend."
He said, "That's because you were only imagining him."
"Yeah, maybe Chad was only joking..."
We went for a walk, and came back about thirty minutes later. I began cooking dinner and noticed a wet spot on my rug. Upon closer inspection, I realized that my washer was leaking. Well, not so much leaking. My side load wash machine had some how been filling with water. The door was not closed all the way. In our attempt to fix things, we made a huge mess! (Um, thank GOD I was not alone to deal with this!) As it turns out, I really should be turning off the water when I'm not using the wash machine. So, we had to take out the rug that lays in front of the wash machine and under the oven that's in front of the bread that Maegen dropped.

As I lay in bed that night, I said to myself (I talk to myself a lot these days, you see), "Megi, now that the oven has been moved a bit, you should fetch your slice of bread."

"Hm, good idea," I responded, "but I don't remember seeing the bread there."
"Ohh, you are right, I don't think it was there. I wonder what happened to it?"
"Ahhh, remember the time you left the back door open and the neighbor's cat snuck in and you caught her running out from behind the fridge?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"Well, maybe the cat ate the bread."
"Yeah, maybe. Goodnight."
"Добре, лейка нощ." (sometimes we talk in Bulgarian, too)

Cut to today... It's about 9am. I had class first period and won't have another until 6th, so I'm chilling online. I'm sitting in my living room, which is about eight feet from kitchen. I can swear I hear something scratching around behind my refrigerator. I go pound on the fridge. I put my cheek to the carpet and glare under the fridge. Nothing. Hm, oh well.

Now it's about 3pm. I'm chilling on the internet again; putting pics on my blog, sending SMSs for free online, downloading music, normal stuff for PCVs. ; ) (toughest job you'll ever love) I hear something that is CLEARLY a mouse under my refrigerator. I get up and again, put my cheek to the floor and gaze into the no-mans-land that is the space under the fridge.
"What is that?" I ask myself.
"Maybe it's your piece of bread."
"No, surely it's not. It's under the refrigerator. I thought the cat ate it."
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! OHMYOHMYOHHHHHHAHHHHHHH"
The little critter decided he'd run out to nibble on his feast of bread. After screaming, jumping in the chair, then scolding myself for behaving like a princess, which I am so clearly NOT, I went to the closet, took out a hanger, and finally fetched my bread. Or what was left of it. I took the garbage out and said,"Good luck now mousie!"

I sat out side with a neighbor baba (grandma) for a bit. My landlady walked out with her son and said, "Хаиди на разходка!" I mean "Come for a walk!" So we were walking and I thought to myself, "Megi," I've become Megi to myself because Мегън (do you see how boring my name is now?) is too difficult for these Bulgarians. "Megi," I said, "you should utilize this young man's English language skills." Pepi, my neighbors oldest son, is also one of my students.

So I asked him, "Как е 'mouse' на Булгарски?"
He answers, and of course I can't remember it now, something like, 'mishka.'

So I tell his mother, in Bulgarian that I have a mouse. This becomes all the drama. She tells dyado (grampa), then her husband. They decide that first they'll give me a trap. If that doesn't work, they'll give me a cat. If that doesn't work, we'll set out poison. If that doesn't work, there's a gun upstairs, hahaha. eeehhhh, okaaayyyy...

So, now I have a mouse trap. Either mice in Bulgaria are a lot more hungry, a lot less intelligent, or this thing ain't gonna work! Wish me luck!

Oh, as I was going over this very long story, my landlady came over. Now I have a cat, which I'm supposed to let out in the morning, for which I'm supposed to put out a bit of bread, who knows this region, and will tell me about my mouse once she finds it. mmm, mmkaayyyy... So now you can wish me luck with the mouse and with the cat.

Summer is Over

Andy, me, Ned and Ethan hanging out at the pool above Krichim. Andy titled this pic, "The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love," from an old PC slogan.

So this picture, this is an example of my summer. Beautiful mountains, having fun, relaxing, learning, great friends, swimming, tanning, eating, chilling. It couldn't be any better. Then we moved from Trainees to Volunteers. Then we moved away from our families. Then we lived and worked and communicated on our own. Alright, so I live in Razlog now and I'm not complaining. I have a great school with all new windows! I had colleagues and a director who genuinely care. I have a flat with cable internet and TV. I have a GSM and can (and do) send lots of text messages. I don't have it so bad!

The summer, the part of the summer I spent in Razlog, went very slowly. I really did not find much to do. I went to school. Of course, this is summer so teachers are on vacation. The teachers on duty would sit around and drink coffee with me. They'd talk in their typical Razlogshki dialect and my head would spin. On bad days I'd only spend a couple hours with them. On good days when I was all over this crazy language and the teachers seemed patient with me, we'd chill way past lunch. The rest of the day I would cook, go to the internet club, go to the gym, or sit and watch Bulgarian TV.

After such an exciting summer, I'm sure the rhythm of school will bring things back down to a more mellow pace... HAAAA. There is nothing rhythmic OR mellow about school here. But I love it. There was so much chaos in the 15 days leading up to the start of school. I'm sure there still is. We still don't have text books. I still don't have class rosters. I only learn my schedule one day at a time. Once I'm in the classroom with those kids and I am doing what I know I am capable of, teaching English and hanging out with (less teachery for "managing") these young people. I have had 6 classes in three days (not much, I know) and I've not yet left a class with out a smile. Oh, I know I could be teaching better. I know I could be making better lesson plans, executing them better, communicating better. I know. But I'm doing alright. I can tell my students are having fun. I am having fun. And I'm pretty sure we are all learning. That's what the Peace Corps is all about, right?

All the Krichim volunteers with my host family at our "thank you" dinner party. Becca, Ethan, Gulchen, Ozhgune, Villi, Ned, me, and Andy. 

Me, my host sisters, and my host mom at a"thank you" dinner party in Krichim.

Catharsis (SP?)

I write this and I want it to make me feel better. I want to spill out my pain in ink and expect my soul to hurt less. Perhaps if I weren't a drama queen, like the world is "intensely felt prose," written just for me. Perhaps if I could for one day, for one hour "love the questions themselves." Perhaps if I could accept what I have with out worrying about what I don't have. "We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow." Then what? Then I wouldn't be this spastic, emotional girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, but can't explain it. I wouldn't be me. Yet I do not justify my obsessive affliction of worry. It is part of me, a part of me that probably will never go away, like alcoholism never leaves its afflicted, but the alcoholic does not have to remain a drunk. We must just work harder at avoiding what comes so easily to us. For years God has been teaching me that I worry, rely on myself, and find comfort in many things beside him first. Thank God, my lessons have always had other rewards: friendships, knowledge, experience, strength. If the reward is given in correlation to the lesson, I'm due for something great -- now or later.