Az Sum Awesome

Next year in Jerusalem

2010-06-10T01:39:00.001-07:00

When I am gone I will still feel the rock

the clang,

the gentle roll

of a slow moving train.

I will smell the salt

the grease

the tangy spice of dyunar.

I will taste ayran

as it tries to loosen my tongue

so that

it will not stumble

–

the way my feet stumble

over roman cobble stones

yellow bricks

and broken tiles that tilt up

to soak unsuspecting feet in chill muddy water.

I will still hear loud

voices raised in anger

and jubilation

in ice cream parlors

on side walks

and, so many times,

at home.

I will not forget the beggar outside the

gaudy

foreign

Raddison,

the accordion player next to the Billa

in the underpass

near the university

or all the shops girls who stand outside;

a shot of espresso

a cigarette

and a vague annoyance

as their uniform.

I will treasure

the summer rains

the humid trolley packed with people in thick down jackets

the sticky smell of salt in the air at the black sea

and the perfume of roses in Kazanlak.

Endless cups of wine and coffee

conversations about past and future

the brush of stubble across my cheek for Balkan good bye

leaning in to kiss softly

three times

the cheeks of Bulgarians

and Englishmen,

Turks and Hungarians.

I will wish I could forget my failures

my awkward

jittery

unsure

shyness.

In front of a classroom of teenagers

barely younger than I.

At dinner with Bulgarians who speak too fast

and lose me with a word

Sitting with men-

who made heat pool in my belly

and a wicked smile light on rouged lips

and my brain to drop blank into insipid forgetfulness.

And yet here I am more beautiful

and more at home

under the linden tree

and inside a gold domed church.

My hair tangled

from the wind of an old military jeep

and lightened by a stronger sun.

My skin

no longer the colour of the wild English rose

but red

like the roses that have grown here

since the Ottomans.

I have not found a god

but I have found where one might live

in the hand that held mine for a one night only

and the peace of a beeswax candle

or the cold burn of absinthe.

I cannot say who I am

or how I’ve changed

or who I will be next year.

I will return with rose oil

and sea shells

and the frailest silver filigree.

Lilac scented soap

and huge

impractical

cashmere scarves

run through with gold threads.

My baggage is not made much heavier

for I have left here

books

my favorite lip stick

a pair of ripped jeans that have become shorts

more daringly cut than I would have worn

before.

But my soul is heavier

and my mind

and my memory.

I am glad that there is no limit of self discovery when you board a plane

they will not demand that I pay

an extra $50 for each town I have visited

each Thracian tomb I’ve explored,

each sour plum I’ve eaten,

each time I’ve used the imperfective verb form

instead of the perfective.

I have seen my future in the lines around the eyes of those who’ve come before me

and in their pasts I see advice

and warnings

and simple empathy

as they say “yes, we feel it too,”

“We yearn for a home,

and to see the world,

and to become something more

than what we were

and what we are.”

And in five years, or ten, or twenty

when I see myself

in the naïve smile a tall French girl in Sankt Peterburg

and the restless walk of a dark haired Australian in Praha

or the shy exuberance of slim boy new to Missoula

I will tell them the same thing.

I will show them the memories kept gently polished

like your grandmother’s finest silver.

And I will press into their hand

a key.

Blogging

2010-03-28T12:19:00.000-07:00

I am seriously awful at this blogging thing, I always forget to do it, and then I don't post anything interesting, and well.

So my Bulgarian lessons have been going well, I meet twice a week for an hour and a half. It's... difficult, but I've started to feel like I can talk. As long as I don't have to say anything in past tense :) It's harder to understand it when people are speaking to me, obviously, because they talk so fast but- progress is being made!

I've also been doing some Irish dancing, which is pretty exciting stuff ;)

I always dance as a man though, and lead, so when ever I have to follow, I mess it up.

Yesterday we went to conversation swap, like usual, but this time I stayed and went out with some friends. We went to an outdoor bar (there are many of them here) and there was this huge celebration going on for earth day! It was great,I lent my lighter to some boys, and we talked for a little while- and then they were all "Can we keep this to remember, because you're so nice, and smile-y, and pretty?"

And, you know, I'd have bought a fucking canister of propane if they kept complimenting me that much.

It's actually sort of strange, you see, because I've been spending so much time with people older than me that I've begun to think of myself as their age. I don't feel 19, I feel... 26, maybe.

It's a bit of a problem, really. I'll start talking to some one, you know, maybe flirt a bit if he's cute, but then bam! It comes out that he's 34.

Not of course, that age ever stops me.

At The Zoo

2010-03-07T14:46:00.000-08:00

We went to the Zoo last Wednesday- apparently it was "bring you kid to zoo" day as well as independence day. There were a lot of very adorable babies. :)

There were also monkeys :)

And more little kids...

Bonding with their parents...

And rhinos! (Well, only one)

And a guy who looked like Jermaine?

And a doodle-y kid?

The little kids threw things at me... but man, look at how cute he is!

The elephant was... yawning? Srsly? I have no idea, but isn't that a freaky mouth?

There was also so adult child/parent bonding :D

They even had a little play area for the kids.

Hell, even the sheepies had little chillin's.

They also had some bears- which I'd legititmately seen really up close before, but they had, along with Black, a Grizzly, and a European Brown Bear, which I'd never seen before.

And of the parents of a cute child held her up and above the bears, and she got all upset...

I particularly liked the big cats- but it was hard to photograph them, because there were like two fences between us.

The wolf was a bit easier.

There were some other photographers at the zoo as well...

I had such camera envy of him!

(For a slightly larger group of photos, with hippos and baboons and more babies:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2032527&id=1312740066&l=5e091c0961 )

A bunch of blogs, all smooshed together

2010-02-24T01:25:00.001-08:00

Ah, I'm so bad at writing a blog. I recently started working at this school, Meridian 22, which is a K-12 English IB school, in Mladost (which is a distract of Sofia- it means "Youth"). I guess it's volunteering, not really work, because I don't get paid. It's... okay. I went to a Kindergarten class, a 3rd grade and a 4th grade, I think.

Ah, the kids were so cute. In one of the classes, they were talking about hair and eye colour, and so they would say (in full eastern european accent) "She has blonde hair, and brown eyes".

And it is not blonde. Maybe it's because I'm used to Norwegian blonds- very light, with pale skin.

Here, it's more ashy, dirty-blond.

And the little kids were so cute about it.

But it is interesting, because there is a distinct genetic group of "Bulgarians". In fact, there are two groups, and most people have features that are a mix of them. One of them is taller, has sort of, straight, long nose, and pale(r) hair, and blue eyes. The other group is small- both shorter, and thinner, and darker. They occasionally have the hooked nose I love so much.

In the US, no one here would stand out, in fact, I didn't notice the similarity until I realized that they were the only people I was seeing. Except at conversation swap-

Conversation Swap is were a whole bunch of foreigners and Bulgarians get together to talk in different languages :) My Bulgarian is still not very good, so I spent most of mine talking with a Londoner about human nature. So you know, what ever. It was pretty rad :)

Pictures

2010-02-17T06:14:00.000-08:00

This is a slice of my birthday cake...

This is the whole thing!

Adventures of a Culinary Kind

2010-02-15T13:11:00.000-08:00

I made dinner tonight!

:DDD

It was super, cool, nbd. I made yogurt marinated chicken marsala, and cabbage, and bread pudding. Yes, after it was all done, I realized that it was sadly, well, white. And boring looking.

But delicious. The cabbage dish I made usually uses red cabbage, which would have made the plate brighter, but eh. All we had was (old) green cabbage.

But this was not the greatest part of my day- no, for to make a meal, one needs... ingredients! And there's really not a lot here... just yogurt, uh, juice, a few sad oranges, and some well hidden potatos. (Although, post-shopping trip, there are lemons, and garlic, and salami!)

So I went to the grocery store. It's wonderfully named (fantastically named, even) "FANTASTICO!" and I had to 1) get there 2) figure out what the things I wanted where called in Bulgarian 3) find them 4) make sure it's ACTUALLY THE RIGHT THING 5) buy them- and some how figure out what Miss Mumbly McFashion-Victim was saying.

But I did!

A+

Bulgarian Lessons

2010-02-14T11:12:00.000-08:00

This Saturday marked my first Bulgarian lesson! It was pretty sweet, nbd. My teacher is a Scot, with a very strong accent, and a penchant for saying "wee" which is, you know, ADORABLE. He wore, yesterday, a wonderful bright orange button down shirt, under a green argyle.

Yeah, it was really fashionable.

(Although the fashion of Bulgarians is a topic large enough for a whole separate post, because really- wow.)

Also, there are uh, five other students? I suppose. My brother, and a German woman, who have probably the best Bulgarian in the class, and then a woman from Holland, a man from the cannery islands, who has the strongest Spanish accent I have ever heard. It's pretty awesome too.

There's also a man from London, who looks disturbingly like Simon Pegg, and arrived on the same day as me, which is sort of a strange coincidence, but eh. Tuesdays are the cheapest day to fly.

So things I have learned so far:

Smoking in restaurants is gross.

The New Jersey "guido" style is universal- and universally unattractive.

Genetics is really cool.

Homemade wine is really not. In fact, it's pretty gross, too.

Airplanes, flying high and yet I feel so low

2010-01-31T13:41:00.000-08:00

I have been packing all day.

Oh how I hate packing.

We bought some of those vacuum-y bags, to put like sweaters and other light but bulky items in (because I don't want to have two bags while I gallivant around the East Coast) and of course I put all of my t-shirts and summer clothes in first, with out thinking, because I am apparently retarded.

Then I used another bag for my sweaters.

So I have one big checked bag ($25 to take on my domestic flight) and I need to find a smaller bag, maybe a backpack, to store my clothes for this week, and books, and munchies, etc.

And then pack some more.

So as it stands right now, this is my itinerary:

Depart: 06:30am Missoula, MT (MSO)

Arrive: 07:55am Salt Lake City, UT (SLC)

Depart: 08:45am Salt Lake City, UT (SLC)

Arrive: 09:18am Las Vegas, NV (LAS)

Depart: 11:10am Las Vegas, NV (LAS)

Arrive: 06:10pm Cleveland, OH (CLE)

Depart: 07:35pm Cleveland, OH (CLE)

Arrive: 09:07pm Hartford, CT (BDL)

(Yes, there are FOUR flights)

Then Bestman is going to pick me up, with a friend of his, and we're off to Wes.

Where I will stay until Saturday, the 6th.

Saturday I take a bus to New Haven (at 10 am), and then Amtrak at 2:30 to Boston. I arrive at 5:16 at South Station and hopefully will be met by Frenchy!

I will leave Boston on February 9th, at 9:55 pm. I arrive in Zurich at 11:10 am Feb 10th, and leave at 1:05pm. I arrive in Sofia, Bulgaria- my final destination, at 4:15 pm.

Ah.

No more traveling then, until June 11th!

Blugeoning Poetess

2009-12-08T11:43:00.000-08:00

As it draws close to Christmas time, I've begin writing my Christmas poetry. I've written one, so far, a sonnet for my sister in law, and to practice, another sonnet about masturbation. It's pretty great...

Anyway, I've decided the man I marry will read my dirty poems, and comment on my iambic pentameter and help me fix it when I get off. (So to speak).

The man I marry, I don't know his name, or his height, or his age, but I know that he will read aloud to me, poems and stories, and he will be prone to excessive displays of affection, and enjoy cuddling.

The man I marry will read a great deal, and enjoy dry wine, and make me tea just because I never turn tea down.

The man I marry may or may not speak another language, but he will not mind when I watch foreign movies without subtitles.

He will enjoy traveling, and looking at museums, and help me not impulse buy.

He will understand the strange relationship I have with my mother, and simply listen to me complain and neither defend nor vilify her.

I'll probably think of other things later, but for now...

That is the man I will marry.

Beneath the cover of october skies

2009-11-22T16:22:00.000-08:00

I went, this weekend, to Blackbird's apartment.When he heard about it, Blackbird had asked me to move in, and room with him, and I'd declined because off the comute, and the cost. But in a way, I wish I hadn't. In a lot of ways, actually, and it was a hard choice. Blackbird is... kind of my surrogate brother, by now. About, oh, a month ago, we were... hanging out, or something, and talking, and both of us were saying how we don't really have a lot of friends, we're affiable, and generally well liked, but keeping friends, close friends, is hard for us. And, with a wiry grin, he said "Well, I guess we're all we've got."

And in a weird way, it's true.

I won't say my happiness depends on him, or anything like that, but he is, almost always, there. And in the way I need. Patient, affectionate, and alright, not particularly communicative, but his flaw is something I appriciate because I don't feel like the one sided support beam that Blondie treated me like. We weirdly get each other.

The only thing is I want to express my affection physically in ways I feel are platonic, but other people don't generally accept except in couples. Like resting my head on his shoulder, or holding hands, or brushing his hair out of his eyes. I have no desire at all to have sex with Blackbird, but my fingers twitch and burn to do those little things.

Anyway, I also played a lot of Zelda last night, which was totally fucking awesome, nbd. And I got to know The Roomate, who is a really nice guy. A total fucking hippy, but a really nice person.

Whiney whiney me. And a list.

2009-11-18T10:00:00.000-08:00

I have decided to make a priority list. It goes like this

US History Studying
Literature Studying
Sanity
Sleep
Bulgarian
Exercise
Essays
Painting my nails
Making Jewelry
Learning to cook/bake
Writing

Although those last four also go into "Sanity"- along with watching the Mentalist (Squee, Simon Baker), talking to my brother, and occasionally doing this blog, or my other one.

Which I totally had another entry on, but I was writing it on my iPod and it decided to fuck up and not publish it and in fact delete it. asklfhjas;f

And now I'm too disapointed to write it again. What ever.

Anyway, I should get back to work... colour up some black... then scub it all off and call it pewter... and then smell funky all day.

Augh, I hate pewter.

(Aren't I just whiney today?)

not having an emotional break down

2009-11-15T15:53:00.000-08:00

This whole thing I'm doing right now is terribly stressful. I work for ten hours a day (and there's an hour of commute in there too), spend an hour each studying US History, Literature, and Bulgarian, and, if I can, going to the gym at least three times a week, and some time, magically, I write essays for college applications.

It's terrible.

However, the real problem is that I simply don't have any friends any more. That sounds like an exaggeration, but most people I spent time with in high school are at college out of state, and the ones who are here, well, I'm not interested in those parties where you drink beer out of red solo cups, and dance awkwardly to bad music with people you don't know.

Maybe that's just me.

I do see Blackbird sometimes, he just moved into town though, so it's on a "every other weekend maybe" schedule.

I need to stop being emo about this.

But it's really hard and the weekends are the worst.

I have too much time to manage it efficiently and I do things like this- waste of time, right? Or play with pictures I took in Sofia on Photoshop.

Like this, which is of my brother and sister in law at their wedding. I like it as a silhouette.

In Bulgarian the word for wedding is svedba. And if you are married, as a woman, you are "husbanded" (omujena) and as a man, you are wifed! (jenen)

I really should download a cyrillic thing, but eh. I don't want to right now.

Anyway, I'm going to go study Politics and Society in the 1930s.

Tickets have been bought, Blog has been made

2009-11-05T11:05:00.000-08:00

This is going to be a catalogue of my explotes in Sofia, Bulgaria, with my brother and sister in law, so I figure, the tickets are bought, why not start?

About tickets- the price for a round trip, one person, flying through Malincho, is 1,400 out of Seattle, and 1,000 out of Boston, which is from where I shall be flying, this time. It's also like, 8 hours shorter. Also, those $1,000? Only $680 is actually the ticket, the rest is tax.

Trying not to be annoyed, but that is ridiculous, right?