Не Сега

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

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

"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

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

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

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!

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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

“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

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

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...

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

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?

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?