Have you ever noticed how sometimes it’s uncomfortable to write, “I love you,” when “I love ya,” is effortless? What’s the difference? Just a couple ‘a letters. Oh, but it’s so much more than that. “Love ya” has a very relaxed and harmless vibe while “love you” is heavy with the potential for misinterpreted meaning. Saying “I love you” out loud is no problem. You use inflection, facial expressions, and tone to convey your meaning. But in writing, whether through facebook, chat, blogs or what have you, it’s almost always safer to go with the “ya.”
Or even just saying, “I miss you,” or, “can’t wait to see you,” can be misinterpreted. Was it said with longing? Is there a hidden meaning? Is the person trying to imply more than just that simple statement? The “what if’s” start to fly around in your brain, whether welcome or not, and they just can’t be stopped. Which is why we’re careful about how we phrase things to others, cuz we know how our own brain works and we don’t want to give the wrong impression or seem like an overly affectionate creeper.
“I can’t wait to see you…”
It starts out all happy and excited and innocent in your mind but travels through your arms, fingers, keyboard, and internet, coming out the other end full of suggestive meaning. Or, at least, that’s how you think the other person might take it. That’s when “ya” comes in handy. Very few have ever said, “Can’t wait to see ya,” in a suggestive way. That’s mostly because very few are capable. I imagine James Bond (any of ‘em) and Angelina Jolie could get away with it but the rest of us? Not so much.
So “ya” becomes a safety net for keeping things in the friend zone and making absolutely sure that we don’t cause others to question our motives. I do like saying “I love you” to friends and I always mean it, but I try to limit myself when saying it to a friend who is obviously uncomfortable with the affectionate phrase. I want them to know that I love them but I don’t want to make them feel awkward when they are, for whatever reason, incapable of saying it back. I used to have trouble saying it to anyone, it didn’t feel natural. But I practiced and now it’s one of my favorite phrases. But, again, in person. In print, it’s gonna be “ya.” Just to be on the safe side.
There’s also a fun trick that I started with a friend of mine over skype. We decided to end each statement with the tone of the message. Such as:
“I love you. (but, like, totally just as a friend. I mean, nothing funny, just a friendly thing with nothing attached.)”
Or
“I can’t wait to see you. (cuz we’re friends and that’s all. And I like hanging out with you but I’m not, like, secretly in love with you or anything. I don’t fantasize about having your children or meeting your parents, I just look forward to hanging out…as friends.)”
But, I figure, a subtle “ya” is way easier, though not nearly as awkward. And, I don’t wanna brag but, I do awkward really well.
Love ya.
-Age
Monday, December 20, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
The Next Two Weeks are Gonna be Awesome!
The holidays are coming up and in just a few short days I'll be off for a two-week adventure. First, I'll be taking a 7 hour train ride to Varna to meet my best buddy, Tom. We'll explore Varna, eat Mexican food, and buy a cute hat cuz my head has been cold, especially my ears which is actually quite painful, what gives? Then we'll meet Katelyn, Priscilla, and Mary and have a sleepover at Tom's place. FUN!
We'll then all head back to Varna to Hannah's Holiday House to celebrate Christmas with about 15 or so volunteers. We'll be cooking lots of delicious food, opening our secret santa gifts, and having a merry time. Then Tom and a few others will be off to Sofia to catch a flight to Italy. I'll stay with Hannah and Lexi and we'll hang out for a few days in Varna until it's our turn to return to Sofia and catch our flight to Italy. While a big group of volunteers is going to spend New Year's in Rome, Matt, Lexi, Evan, Hannah, and I will be going to Bologna and Florence. I. Can't. Wait. My mom is even mailing me a special New Year's dress that should arrive on Tuesday (hopefully).
I get a couple extra days off of school for this trip and when I get back, it'll be the end of my first semster and the beginning of a very long winter. But I've got big plans for semester #2 so I'm kinda looking forward to the challenge.
Here are some pictures of my first snowfall:
We'll then all head back to Varna to Hannah's Holiday House to celebrate Christmas with about 15 or so volunteers. We'll be cooking lots of delicious food, opening our secret santa gifts, and having a merry time. Then Tom and a few others will be off to Sofia to catch a flight to Italy. I'll stay with Hannah and Lexi and we'll hang out for a few days in Varna until it's our turn to return to Sofia and catch our flight to Italy. While a big group of volunteers is going to spend New Year's in Rome, Matt, Lexi, Evan, Hannah, and I will be going to Bologna and Florence. I. Can't. Wait. My mom is even mailing me a special New Year's dress that should arrive on Tuesday (hopefully).
I get a couple extra days off of school for this trip and when I get back, it'll be the end of my first semster and the beginning of a very long winter. But I've got big plans for semester #2 so I'm kinda looking forward to the challenge.
Here are some pictures of my first snowfall:
The view from my balcony
Some of my 5th graders having their first snowball fight of the year
View from our English classroom window
-Age
Friday, December 17, 2010
Black Eye? Welcome to Your First Winter Wonderland, Miss Hadaway.
Last week, I woke up, got ready, and went outside to find a thin layer of snow on the ground. It wasn’t much, didn’t cover everything and had a very muddy quality to it but, none the less, it was snow. Snow, on my front porch, on the bushes in front of my building, and along the path I take to school every morning. Proof that, no matter how much I wish it was not the case and that snow was simply a place to visit and say, “Oh, this is nice, I think I’ll throw it at my brother’s face,” and then go home, snow is coming to my village and there’s not a dang thing I can do about it.
Then on Monday, after a very cold night, I woke up and peeked out of my window, seriously expecting to see more snow on the ground. Nothing. It looked freezing and rather dreary but the ground was bare. I quickly got ready because, as always, I was gonna be late, and was running down the steps about 35-40 minutes later, hurriedly swinging open my heavy front door only to stop dead in my tracks as little white specks were drifting past my view, landing on everything, and creating a blanket of snow that was already an inch thick.
I stood in awe. This was a monumental occasion. This was the moment I’ve been waiting for since I found out that Bulgaria experiences true winters. This was the first time in all my nearly 27 years that I have seen snow falling from the sky. And it was different then I’d imagined. Different because, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it before…
I was late so I just ran to school, through the snow, thinking how different my life has become and how surreal it is to live in a place that can change colors in 35-40 minutes. I taught some classes while continuously glancing out the windows as the small, white flecks continued to fall, waiting for the moment when I was free to go back outside and try and catch some on my tongue which has always seemed like a lot of fun (and a rhyme, if you say it out loud. Try it). The snow stuck to my face, to my eyelashes, to my fingers and to the ends of my hair. I studied it, trying to grasp the feeling of déjà vu from that morning. Was it just because I’ve seen snow in the movies so many times? No, because this wasn’t really like movie snow. It was different. I expected snowflakes that look like the ones we cut out and hung on the walls of our classroom. Only smaller.
It looked like...foam. Like dishwashing soap when you blow it off of your hand and into someone’s face. It looked fake. Suddenly I knew exactly what it reminded me of – Disneyland. Every Christmas, Disneyland has a big parade right before the park closes and, at the end, snow falls for about 10 minutes and all the kids' (and parents') faces light up and it’s so wonderfully cheesy that you can’t help but remember the sounds and lights, faces and smells (did you know that Disneyland manufactures its own smell and releases it through hidden vents all over the park, because smell is the strongest sense related to memory and they ((they being the Imagineers)) know you’ll always associate that perfectly fabricated smell with unbridled happiness ((well, only unbridled if your mom doesn't put one of those weird leash things on you )) – true story). But Disney’s snow is fake. It’s actually just soap. It’s stays all foamy and soapy when it lands on your face, eyelashes, fingers, and hair. All this time I thought Disney had it close but not quite accurate when, really, that’s exactly what snow looks like…apparently. How I could ever doubt Disney, I do not know. My apologies.
Anyway, it snowed again today and it’s really beginning to pile up. I love the sound it makes when it crunches under my feet. I also love the hidden patches of ice underneath that make walking an adventure – I’ve almost eaten it several times already and I have a bet with myself to see how long I can go without falling and how many people will be present to laugh at me when I inevitably do.
When I was in Cali, we would go to the snow, in the mountains, where snow belongs. We would drive for an hour or so and find the perfect spot. Though, usually, we weren’t the only ones to realize its perfection and would have to share the side of a smooth, perfect-for-sledding mountainside with about a million other people but, hey, that’s California for ya. But this time, I just had to walk across the street. My students asked me in fifth period today if I would meet them after school to go sledding. I said of course. They then returned to my class at least 5 more times that day to make absolutely sure I was coming. I don’t know if they doubted my understanding of their Bulgarian or they were just that shocked that a teacher would join them for something so frivolous and awesome.
I showed up, sled down the mountain screaming my head off like a crazy person, got into several snowball fights as my students seem to really enjoy pelting me with round, packed snow, and got one right in the eye which made me look like I’d been in a serious fight. The majority of the students there were from my “trouble class” so it was nice getting to spend time with them when screaming was a reaction to extreme fun-having and not frustration. I left soaking wet and freezing cold and knowing that it was the best Thursday I’ve had at site. Success.
The moral of the story: get the sneaky third-grader in the eye first cuz he’s probably not wearing mascara that will then run down his face. Seriously, when I got home and looked in the mirror the first thing I thought was, “I look homeless.”
Pictures of my first snow to come when I’m not cuddled under the covers feeling perfectly lazy and recovering from a black eye that I’m actually exaggerating to the point silliness.
-Age
Then on Monday, after a very cold night, I woke up and peeked out of my window, seriously expecting to see more snow on the ground. Nothing. It looked freezing and rather dreary but the ground was bare. I quickly got ready because, as always, I was gonna be late, and was running down the steps about 35-40 minutes later, hurriedly swinging open my heavy front door only to stop dead in my tracks as little white specks were drifting past my view, landing on everything, and creating a blanket of snow that was already an inch thick.
I stood in awe. This was a monumental occasion. This was the moment I’ve been waiting for since I found out that Bulgaria experiences true winters. This was the first time in all my nearly 27 years that I have seen snow falling from the sky. And it was different then I’d imagined. Different because, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it before…
I was late so I just ran to school, through the snow, thinking how different my life has become and how surreal it is to live in a place that can change colors in 35-40 minutes. I taught some classes while continuously glancing out the windows as the small, white flecks continued to fall, waiting for the moment when I was free to go back outside and try and catch some on my tongue which has always seemed like a lot of fun (and a rhyme, if you say it out loud. Try it). The snow stuck to my face, to my eyelashes, to my fingers and to the ends of my hair. I studied it, trying to grasp the feeling of déjà vu from that morning. Was it just because I’ve seen snow in the movies so many times? No, because this wasn’t really like movie snow. It was different. I expected snowflakes that look like the ones we cut out and hung on the walls of our classroom. Only smaller.
It looked like...foam. Like dishwashing soap when you blow it off of your hand and into someone’s face. It looked fake. Suddenly I knew exactly what it reminded me of – Disneyland. Every Christmas, Disneyland has a big parade right before the park closes and, at the end, snow falls for about 10 minutes and all the kids' (and parents') faces light up and it’s so wonderfully cheesy that you can’t help but remember the sounds and lights, faces and smells (did you know that Disneyland manufactures its own smell and releases it through hidden vents all over the park, because smell is the strongest sense related to memory and they ((they being the Imagineers)) know you’ll always associate that perfectly fabricated smell with unbridled happiness ((well, only unbridled if your mom doesn't put one of those weird leash things on you )) – true story). But Disney’s snow is fake. It’s actually just soap. It’s stays all foamy and soapy when it lands on your face, eyelashes, fingers, and hair. All this time I thought Disney had it close but not quite accurate when, really, that’s exactly what snow looks like…apparently. How I could ever doubt Disney, I do not know. My apologies.
Anyway, it snowed again today and it’s really beginning to pile up. I love the sound it makes when it crunches under my feet. I also love the hidden patches of ice underneath that make walking an adventure – I’ve almost eaten it several times already and I have a bet with myself to see how long I can go without falling and how many people will be present to laugh at me when I inevitably do.
When I was in Cali, we would go to the snow, in the mountains, where snow belongs. We would drive for an hour or so and find the perfect spot. Though, usually, we weren’t the only ones to realize its perfection and would have to share the side of a smooth, perfect-for-sledding mountainside with about a million other people but, hey, that’s California for ya. But this time, I just had to walk across the street. My students asked me in fifth period today if I would meet them after school to go sledding. I said of course. They then returned to my class at least 5 more times that day to make absolutely sure I was coming. I don’t know if they doubted my understanding of their Bulgarian or they were just that shocked that a teacher would join them for something so frivolous and awesome.
I showed up, sled down the mountain screaming my head off like a crazy person, got into several snowball fights as my students seem to really enjoy pelting me with round, packed snow, and got one right in the eye which made me look like I’d been in a serious fight. The majority of the students there were from my “trouble class” so it was nice getting to spend time with them when screaming was a reaction to extreme fun-having and not frustration. I left soaking wet and freezing cold and knowing that it was the best Thursday I’ve had at site. Success.
The moral of the story: get the sneaky third-grader in the eye first cuz he’s probably not wearing mascara that will then run down his face. Seriously, when I got home and looked in the mirror the first thing I thought was, “I look homeless.”
Pictures of my first snow to come when I’m not cuddled under the covers feeling perfectly lazy and recovering from a black eye that I’m actually exaggerating to the point silliness.
-Age
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Apparently I Enjoy Doing the Dishes Which Has Me Worrying for My Sanity...and Really Happy to Actually Have Clean Mugs in the Mornings
So, integration is a big part of Peace Corps. We are supposed to get to know the people in our villages, make friends, spend time with them and plan all kinds of na gosti’s (visits). I haven’t really done a whole lot of that. I get to know people, for sure. I’ve made friends, don’t get me wrong. I think most of my colleagues like me alright but na gosti’s are not popping up everywhere for me like they are for some volunteers. It seems to be more popular to go for coffee or have dinner at the (really nice) restaurant in town than to spend time in people’s homes. I don’t mind this at all, however, I feel more comfortable in that type of setting anyway. I also enjoy the occasional weekend where I never leave my apartment at all and really hope no one calls to “hodi na restorant.”
But, it can get a bit boring.
Hence the highlight of my evening a few days ago when, after eating a meal of boiled beans (cuz my culinary skills are sadly lacking), I saw a bean on the table and exclaimed to no one in particular,
“Hey! A stray bean! What’ya think you’re doing?”
And I ate it.
And then there’s the fact that I’ve come to look forward to washing my dishes. I actually enjoy it. To the point where I save them, waiting until the time is just right so I can savor the act of scrubbing while listening to my ipod and hoping that my neighbors can’t actually hear me singing through the walls while also thinking that it’s probably a bit of a treat for them as I sound pretty damn good (I don’t). I’ve also started to eat less in an attempt to not put on the weight of a hibernating bear which has seriously deteriorated my dish-count (though, sadly, not my waistline) making the evening ritual shorter than I’d like. Who would’ve thought that would be a downside to dieting? Certainly not me.
But what else is there to do when I’ve already given myself 20 minutes to come up with the cleverest facebook post I can think of to express my day and another hour or two jumping from skype chats to blog posts.
Not to say I don’t work (in case PC staff is reading this and judging the use of my seemingly immense amounts of free time). I do. Though, it’s slowed down as things have gotten colder and people are beginning to nestle down into their winter habits which are, as yet, unknown to me. I don’t know what my Bulgarian winter habits are either – though it’s clear they involve cleanliness… which is next to godliness… which may make me the God of winter, but only in Bulgaria. Which is cool.
I’ve also found it hard to work at home. Without the motivation of others working alongside me, it’s difficult to get excited about daily lesson planning. Sometimes I stay at school and work in my classroom or the teacher’s lounge but it’s just as lonely there as the teachers at my school book it the second school is over. My counterpart has a second job teaching at another school in town (not just English but math and music as well) and can’t stay after school to plan with me though the team effort would be nice. I sometimes wish there was another volunteer in my village to work with, bounce ideas off of, and bitch to but I also understand the importance of being a part of the community as opposed to a separate…commodity? I don’t know.
Anyway, I’ve started a Volunteer Committee with about a dozen students from my school (though I'm sure, like everything else I start, the numbers will dwindle to only the truly serious ones). Our first meeting will be this Friday which also kicks off the beginning of our clothes drive. I sent home fliers (in Bulgarian as the super nice lady at the internet club helped me write it) to the students to give to their parents asking for old clothes and shoes. Then the students helped me to decorate a Christmas box in order to put the clothing in and we’ll be making some fun posters tomorrow in technology class (my counterpart teaches this as well – she’s a busy lady). The kids are already pretty excited and talking about the bags of clothes they plan to bring.
I’ll then be making a slideshow of the children we’ll be donating these clothes to as another volunteer is collecting for the students in her orphanage and asked us all for help - she sent me photos of her students to add to my slideshow. I want to show the students where their generosity is going and, hopefully, take the students in the Volunteer Committee with me to donate the clothes in person and maybe even meet some of the other children. That would be asking a lot of everyone involved and I’m not sure if my school or kids are ready for that but I’m willing to give it a try.
What I’m not sure of, is what to do afterward. I want to show the students, and their parents, that I care and appreciate what they’ve done, show them that giving and thinking of others is truly important, but I don’t know how to go about that. A thank you letter might be nice but I thought maybe something more. Hmmmmmm. If you have any ideas, let me know!
That’s all. Love ya.
-Age
But, it can get a bit boring.
Hence the highlight of my evening a few days ago when, after eating a meal of boiled beans (cuz my culinary skills are sadly lacking), I saw a bean on the table and exclaimed to no one in particular,
“Hey! A stray bean! What’ya think you’re doing?”
And I ate it.
And then there’s the fact that I’ve come to look forward to washing my dishes. I actually enjoy it. To the point where I save them, waiting until the time is just right so I can savor the act of scrubbing while listening to my ipod and hoping that my neighbors can’t actually hear me singing through the walls while also thinking that it’s probably a bit of a treat for them as I sound pretty damn good (I don’t). I’ve also started to eat less in an attempt to not put on the weight of a hibernating bear which has seriously deteriorated my dish-count (though, sadly, not my waistline) making the evening ritual shorter than I’d like. Who would’ve thought that would be a downside to dieting? Certainly not me.
But what else is there to do when I’ve already given myself 20 minutes to come up with the cleverest facebook post I can think of to express my day and another hour or two jumping from skype chats to blog posts.
Not to say I don’t work (in case PC staff is reading this and judging the use of my seemingly immense amounts of free time). I do. Though, it’s slowed down as things have gotten colder and people are beginning to nestle down into their winter habits which are, as yet, unknown to me. I don’t know what my Bulgarian winter habits are either – though it’s clear they involve cleanliness… which is next to godliness… which may make me the God of winter, but only in Bulgaria. Which is cool.
I’ve also found it hard to work at home. Without the motivation of others working alongside me, it’s difficult to get excited about daily lesson planning. Sometimes I stay at school and work in my classroom or the teacher’s lounge but it’s just as lonely there as the teachers at my school book it the second school is over. My counterpart has a second job teaching at another school in town (not just English but math and music as well) and can’t stay after school to plan with me though the team effort would be nice. I sometimes wish there was another volunteer in my village to work with, bounce ideas off of, and bitch to but I also understand the importance of being a part of the community as opposed to a separate…commodity? I don’t know.
Anyway, I’ve started a Volunteer Committee with about a dozen students from my school (though I'm sure, like everything else I start, the numbers will dwindle to only the truly serious ones). Our first meeting will be this Friday which also kicks off the beginning of our clothes drive. I sent home fliers (in Bulgarian as the super nice lady at the internet club helped me write it) to the students to give to their parents asking for old clothes and shoes. Then the students helped me to decorate a Christmas box in order to put the clothing in and we’ll be making some fun posters tomorrow in technology class (my counterpart teaches this as well – she’s a busy lady). The kids are already pretty excited and talking about the bags of clothes they plan to bring.
I’ll then be making a slideshow of the children we’ll be donating these clothes to as another volunteer is collecting for the students in her orphanage and asked us all for help - she sent me photos of her students to add to my slideshow. I want to show the students where their generosity is going and, hopefully, take the students in the Volunteer Committee with me to donate the clothes in person and maybe even meet some of the other children. That would be asking a lot of everyone involved and I’m not sure if my school or kids are ready for that but I’m willing to give it a try.
What I’m not sure of, is what to do afterward. I want to show the students, and their parents, that I care and appreciate what they’ve done, show them that giving and thinking of others is truly important, but I don’t know how to go about that. A thank you letter might be nice but I thought maybe something more. Hmmmmmm. If you have any ideas, let me know!
That’s all. Love ya.
-Age
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Drinkin' Outta Cups
So, I recently went to a wonderful Thanksgiving feast with some lovely Bulgarian and Peace Corps friends and took some fun pics. We had a GREAT time - I missed family and friends from back home but Bulgarian Thanksgiving was uniquely fantastic and I'm excited to do it again next year. After Thanksgiving, we all traveled to our In-Service Training which was also a lot of fun as well as highly informative. I'm also giddy with excitement when I think that in just a few, short weeks I'll be celebrating Christmas in Varna and New Years in Italy!!! Does life get better than this? I don't think so. And one more thing: it's not snowing. (Well, not yet anyway)
We ate
We smiled
We cheered
We made awkward faces
We laughed
We ate some kick-ass cake (thanks, Evan!)
We played Dirty Mind (of course)
We were drinkin' outta cups (but not bein' a bitch)
It was a lovely time at Red-Headed Mary's!
-Age
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Wallflower? Who Me?
There are a lot of Peace Corps related things happening to me right now. So many that I don't really feel like talking about them anymore. So, instead of chatting about what's most relevent to me at the moment I'm going to instead travel back a few days...I was sitting on a train chatting with a friend about the difference between introverts and extraverts. It was an interesting conversation and the gal has since facebooked me a fun article with a detailed explanation of what makes an introvert tick and why it's not easy to be one in modern, American society (not that I'm in America but there's still a cultural relevance, especially when I'm around lots of Americans which was the case earlier this week during our In-Service Training). It's called "Revenge of the Introvert."
I thought I'd begin by stating the obvious - I'm an introvert. Shocking, no? I've taken that Meyers-Briggs test that everyone and their second cousin has taken and I am officially an INFP (the "I" stands for introvert) and dang proud of it! That particular personality type is called the "Idealist" which is fitting. Here's some quotes I found interesting about the article and I thought I would expand upon:
"Often confused with shyness, introversion does not imply social reticence or discomfort. Rather than being averse to social engagement, introverts become overwhelmed by too much of it...as a result, introverts are not driven to seek big hits of positive emotional arousal—they'd rather find meaning than bliss—making them relatively immune to the search for happiness that permeates contemporary American culture."
I've had shy stages in my life but I would no longer describe myself in that way though I am acutely aware of feeling out of place in some social settings. This article helped me to realize why that is: I feel overwhelmed. I've used this word, when talking to friends, many times to describe the way some of our PC trainings have made me feel. When all 85 of us get together, including PC staff and often many B25's, I feel overwhelmed by all the people and all the social interacting. I feel that the Peace Corps, in general, encourages a more extraverted attitude and approach to life but I don't think it's necessary for a successful service. Introverts come with their own set of social skills and advantages that are often overlooked cuz, well, we're kinda quiet.
"It's often possible to spot introverts by their conversational style. They're the ones doing the listening."
"Introverts are collectors of thoughts."
We're quiet for a reason. We're processing. As introverts, we often despise small talk (cuz we're bad at it and have significant trouble coming up with quick answers to meaningless questions cuz we're spending too much time pondering the deeper aspects of the conversation and situation itself - we ponder) and we don't toss out words, opinions, or ideas without having first given them significant thought. Actually, we do, at times, in order to fit in, but it never goes well. At least not for me.
The article goes further into this point I've just made, that in a society that praises and encourages, highlights and even expects extraversion, the introverts are left feeling inadequate and that they have to make excuses for their behavior or even change it:
I once referred to myself in my own mind (as introverts tend to self-reflect far more than is healthy) as detached. I immediately felt that this was a terrible word and tried to dissuade myself from feeling this way but couldn't get away from it. Now, after reading this article, I realize that I'm not detached (well, I might be) but I just require more quiet reflection and personal time than others, which is OK. I'm allowed this without feeling guilty. Also, 50% of people are introverts in the States (probably way less in my PC world but whatever) but we simply don't realize it, according to this article, because the extraverts draw more attention, naturally.
I thought I'd begin by stating the obvious - I'm an introvert. Shocking, no? I've taken that Meyers-Briggs test that everyone and their second cousin has taken and I am officially an INFP (the "I" stands for introvert) and dang proud of it! That particular personality type is called the "Idealist" which is fitting. Here's some quotes I found interesting about the article and I thought I would expand upon:
"Often confused with shyness, introversion does not imply social reticence or discomfort. Rather than being averse to social engagement, introverts become overwhelmed by too much of it...as a result, introverts are not driven to seek big hits of positive emotional arousal—they'd rather find meaning than bliss—making them relatively immune to the search for happiness that permeates contemporary American culture."
I've had shy stages in my life but I would no longer describe myself in that way though I am acutely aware of feeling out of place in some social settings. This article helped me to realize why that is: I feel overwhelmed. I've used this word, when talking to friends, many times to describe the way some of our PC trainings have made me feel. When all 85 of us get together, including PC staff and often many B25's, I feel overwhelmed by all the people and all the social interacting. I feel that the Peace Corps, in general, encourages a more extraverted attitude and approach to life but I don't think it's necessary for a successful service. Introverts come with their own set of social skills and advantages that are often overlooked cuz, well, we're kinda quiet.
"It's often possible to spot introverts by their conversational style. They're the ones doing the listening."
"Introverts are collectors of thoughts."
We're quiet for a reason. We're processing. As introverts, we often despise small talk (cuz we're bad at it and have significant trouble coming up with quick answers to meaningless questions cuz we're spending too much time pondering the deeper aspects of the conversation and situation itself - we ponder) and we don't toss out words, opinions, or ideas without having first given them significant thought. Actually, we do, at times, in order to fit in, but it never goes well. At least not for me.
The article goes further into this point I've just made, that in a society that praises and encourages, highlights and even expects extraversion, the introverts are left feeling inadequate and that they have to make excuses for their behavior or even change it:
"Personality-culture clash hypothesis: "Psychological adjustment depends on the degree of match between personality and the values of surrounding society." To the extent that introverts feel the need to explain, apologize, or feel guilty about what works best for them, they feel alienated not only from society but from themselves."
Also:
"Researchers have found that introverts who act extraverted show slower reaction times on subsequent cognitive tests than those allowed to act introverted. Their cognitive fatigue testifies to the fact that "acting counter-dispositionally is depleting."
Acting counter-dispositionally is depleting! This made a huge impact on me when I read it. I have felt this! I often feel exhausted trying to keep up with some of my more gregarious friends. I have relationships with many extraverts which I think testifies to the idea that opposites attract and we together create an ideal relationship of give-and-take but too much of it or too many extraverted people at once can make me feel drained and withdrawn.
I once referred to myself in my own mind (as introverts tend to self-reflect far more than is healthy) as detached. I immediately felt that this was a terrible word and tried to dissuade myself from feeling this way but couldn't get away from it. Now, after reading this article, I realize that I'm not detached (well, I might be) but I just require more quiet reflection and personal time than others, which is OK. I'm allowed this without feeling guilty. Also, 50% of people are introverts in the States (probably way less in my PC world but whatever) but we simply don't realize it, according to this article, because the extraverts draw more attention, naturally.
"...a preference for solitude, reflection, internal exploration of ideas vs. active engagement and pursuit of rewards in the external/social world..."
"Solitude, quite literally, allows introverts to hear themselves think. But extensive internal dialogue, especially in response to negative experiences, can set off a downward spiral of affect. And indeed, anxiety and depression are more common among introverts than extraverts. In general, says Robert McPeek, director of research at the Center for Applications of Psychological Type, introverts are more self-critical than others—but also more realistic in their self-assessments. Call it depressive realism."
One of my main reasons for joining the Peace Corps stemmed from my belief that I spent entirely too much time self-reflecting. I was so concerned with bettering myself in whatever way possible and spent the two years following my graduation from the credentialing program trying to achieve this, without much success, that I was sick of myself. I knew I needed to focus on others and give myself a break from myself. I love watching TED videos and a recent clip talked of the importance in serving others as a way of achieving bliss. We've all been told a million times that money doesn't buy happiness (though many people still try) but we fail to reach further and try and understand the factors that do influence our happiness. Turning the focus from ourselves to others is one way.
(Sorry, I don't know why the background looks like that or how to fix it)
Anyway:
"Even a simple opener of "Hello, how are you? Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you about X," from anyone can challenge an introvert. Rather than bypassing the first question or interrupting the flow to answer it, the introvert holds onto the question: Hmm, how am I? (An internal dialogue begins, in which the introvert "hears" herself talking internally as the other person speaks.)Even if the introvert responds, "I'm good," she's probably still reflecting on how she is: Good? That's not quite right. I really have had a pretty crummy day, but there isn't a quick way to explain that. She wants to first work out privately her thoughts and judgment about the day. She also may evaluate the question itself: I hate that we so often just say 'good' because that's the convention. The other person doesn't really want to know. She may even activate memories of how the question has struck her in the past. While the introvert is evaluating the question on at least two levels (how she is feeling and what she thinks about the question, perhaps also what this says about our society), the speaker is already moving on to sharing something about his day. The introvert must take the incoming message from the speaker and tuck it into working memory until she can get to it, while more information keeps flowing in that demands tracking, sorting, searching, and critical analysis."
The article discusses how an introverts brain fires off more signals and is far more active when engaged in conversation than an extravert. For extraverts, talking and conversing is second-nature, like tying a shoe or riding a bike, for the introvert, it's a complicated process that seldom seems to get easier or less involved. That's why we suck at small talk. I hate small talk. Hate it. Always have - this explains it. Finally.
For those of you who have stuck it out this long here's some tips on "What Not to Say to an Introvert":
• "'Why don't you like parties? Don't you like people?' is a common remark introverts hear," says Marti Laney, a psychologist and the author of The Introvert Advantage. "Usually we like people fine," she insists. "We just like them in small doses." Cocktail parties can be deadly. "We're social but it's a different type of socializing."
• "Surprise, we've decided to bring the family and stay with you for the weekend." Anyone anywhere on the -vert spectrum could find such a declaration objectionable, but it's more likely to bring an introvert to a boil, according to Nancy Ancowitz. Introverts count on their downtime to rejuvenate their resources; an extended presence in their homes robs them of that respite.
• Don't demand immediate feedback from an introvert. "Extraverts think we have answers but just aren't giving them," Laney says. "They don't understand we need time to formulate them" and often won't talk until a thought is suitably polished.
• Don't ask introverts why they're not contributing in meetings. If you're holding a brainstorming session, let the introvert prepare, or encourage him to follow up with his contributions afterward.
• Don't interrupt if an introvert does get to talking. Listen closely. "Being overlooked is a really big issue for introverts," Laney says. Introverts are unlikely to repeat themselves; they will not risk making the same mistake twice.
• Above all, "we hate people telling us how we can be more extraverted, as if that's the desired state," says Beth Buelow, a life and leadership coach for introverts. Many introverts are happy with the way they are. And if you're not, that's your problem.
• "Surprise, we've decided to bring the family and stay with you for the weekend." Anyone anywhere on the -vert spectrum could find such a declaration objectionable, but it's more likely to bring an introvert to a boil, according to Nancy Ancowitz. Introverts count on their downtime to rejuvenate their resources; an extended presence in their homes robs them of that respite.
• Don't demand immediate feedback from an introvert. "Extraverts think we have answers but just aren't giving them," Laney says. "They don't understand we need time to formulate them" and often won't talk until a thought is suitably polished.
• Don't ask introverts why they're not contributing in meetings. If you're holding a brainstorming session, let the introvert prepare, or encourage him to follow up with his contributions afterward.
• Don't interrupt if an introvert does get to talking. Listen closely. "Being overlooked is a really big issue for introverts," Laney says. Introverts are unlikely to repeat themselves; they will not risk making the same mistake twice.
• Above all, "we hate people telling us how we can be more extraverted, as if that's the desired state," says Beth Buelow, a life and leadership coach for introverts. Many introverts are happy with the way they are. And if you're not, that's your problem.
I found this article insightful and really helpful. I feel less guilty for being me and I have an explanation for the crazy things that go on in my mind and the awkward situations I sometimes find myself in. It's OK to be the quiet one who simply observes while others do - it's what works for us and makes the doing so much more meaningful when we're able to take it at our own pace.
-Age
-Age
Thursday, November 25, 2010
I Love Stalking(s)
Today I sent my mom a text message saying, “I have some ideas for my stalking list: black hair rubber bands and new ear buds for my ipod," as my mom will be sending me a package full of Christmas goodies soon. I realized right before pushing “send” that I’d spelt it “stalking” instead of “stocking”. Oops. But, then I of course started to think about what would have been on my “stalking” list.
1) Binoculars (obviously)
2) Camouflage (or I could just make an outfit from those handy condoms PC gave us)
3) A new phone with an application that blocks my outgoing number
4) “How to Get a Restraining Order Appealed For Dummies” (it’s out there)
5) Snacks (stalking sometimes requires long hours with no lunch break – it takes real dedication)
I think that would make a nice starter kit, at least. Hmm, I can feel the entrepreneurial side of me responding to this idea, leave a comment below if you’d like to invest.
Also, tonight I went to the local children’s hospital to help my counterpart teach English to the students there. There are seven students, some with Down Syndrome, others with polio, and all super sweet and excited about English (what a nice change!). I plan on helping her out there a lot more in the future. There was a student with Down Syndrome who kept saying the word for “boobs” in Bulgarian while referencing mine and my counterparts. It was pretty hilarious and the other students couldn’t stop giggling…and neither could I. The word in Bulgarian, I now know, is similar to “Bambi” so I at first thought he was referencing the movie and was encouraging, saying things like, “Oh, Bambi, how nice. Do you like that movie?” My counterpart stopped me right there and corrected my mistake. Oops.
Also, our In-Service Training is starting soon and we’ll all be spending a few days together in Plovdiv! I’m very excited about this. My counterpart and I were asked to give a presentation on Team-Teaching that Monday about which I’m equal parts nervous and excited. We planned it out today and will be incorporating some videos we took of us teaching 2nd and 5th grades. We plan to end the presentation by showing our 5th grade boys making sexual gestures to the camera while we weren’t looking. It’s kinda hilarious. I’ll post that video on here soon – you’ll laugh, it can’t be helped.
But, before Plovdiv, I’ll be heading back up to the Vratsa area in order to celebrate Thanksgiving with some of my favorite volunteers. We’ll be cooking and eating traditional Thanksgiving meals (to the best of our ability) all day which just sounds heavenly. I can’t wait.
All in all, it’s gonna be a fun week! Happy Holidays!
-Age
1) Binoculars (obviously)
2) Camouflage (or I could just make an outfit from those handy condoms PC gave us)
3) A new phone with an application that blocks my outgoing number
4) “How to Get a Restraining Order Appealed For Dummies” (it’s out there)
5) Snacks (stalking sometimes requires long hours with no lunch break – it takes real dedication)
I think that would make a nice starter kit, at least. Hmm, I can feel the entrepreneurial side of me responding to this idea, leave a comment below if you’d like to invest.
Also, tonight I went to the local children’s hospital to help my counterpart teach English to the students there. There are seven students, some with Down Syndrome, others with polio, and all super sweet and excited about English (what a nice change!). I plan on helping her out there a lot more in the future. There was a student with Down Syndrome who kept saying the word for “boobs” in Bulgarian while referencing mine and my counterparts. It was pretty hilarious and the other students couldn’t stop giggling…and neither could I. The word in Bulgarian, I now know, is similar to “Bambi” so I at first thought he was referencing the movie and was encouraging, saying things like, “Oh, Bambi, how nice. Do you like that movie?” My counterpart stopped me right there and corrected my mistake. Oops.
Also, our In-Service Training is starting soon and we’ll all be spending a few days together in Plovdiv! I’m very excited about this. My counterpart and I were asked to give a presentation on Team-Teaching that Monday about which I’m equal parts nervous and excited. We planned it out today and will be incorporating some videos we took of us teaching 2nd and 5th grades. We plan to end the presentation by showing our 5th grade boys making sexual gestures to the camera while we weren’t looking. It’s kinda hilarious. I’ll post that video on here soon – you’ll laugh, it can’t be helped.
But, before Plovdiv, I’ll be heading back up to the Vratsa area in order to celebrate Thanksgiving with some of my favorite volunteers. We’ll be cooking and eating traditional Thanksgiving meals (to the best of our ability) all day which just sounds heavenly. I can’t wait.
All in all, it’s gonna be a fun week! Happy Holidays!
-Age
Monday, November 22, 2010
Outrageous? Really?
I’ve recently downloaded some fun dance songs from itunes and even created a playlist especially for them entitled “Dance,” appropriately. I’ve been shaking my thing all over my kitchen while doing the dishes, washing my clothes, “cooking” dinner, practicing my juggling skills with some recently purchased nectarines and really getting to know some of these songs pretty well. The thing is, not all of the songs I bought were new. Some were new, and I really enjoy them, particularly Rihanna’s stuff, but some of them are…older. Like Brittany Spears and Shakira. I’ve always loved both of these ladies and decided that some of my favorites should be a part of this new playlist. But, it seems, that during this particular trend in pop music history that lyrics were not the top priority when creating a hit. Though, in their defense, they were hits.
I’m talking about such biting lyrics as Brittany’s “Outrageous” in which “when I move my body” and “when I’m at a party” stand alone to create the rhyming chorus that’s repeated throughout the song. (Oh, and, by the way, both of those things are apparently outrageous which I feel Brit may be using a bit too liberally). She also uses the line “trench coat and my underwear” without context. Exactly where is she wearing a trench coat and underwear? Is it out and about town or is it just in her kitchen? Does she unbutton the trench coat so people can actually see that all she has underneath is underwear or is it simply a secret for her own amusement? Is it really outrageous? I mean, really?
And then there’s Shakira. I happen to know that Shakira graduated from UCLA (or USC, I can’t actually remember which but it’s one of those) and is probably a pretty clever girl. But her lyrics, come on! I was listening to “My Hips Don’t Lie” which isn’t a bad title, I like it. “Reading the signs of my body,” not bad, really. But the song is featuring Wyclef and he says, during the chorus, “Como se llama. Bonita. Mi casa. Su casa.” Um, this roughly translates to, “What’s your name? Pretty. My house. Your house.” Caveman speech but in Spanish so it’s deceptively smooth-sounding. The thing is, this is totally forgivable as Wyclef is not a native Spanish speaker and can therefore say these short, simple lines without too much judgment. But Shakira, who, being from Columbia (as the song also states), speaks Spanish fluently and responds to Wyclef’s stutterings with, “Oh, baby, when you talk like that, you make a woman go mad.” For reals? Mad? I dunno, Shakira, I’m gonna have to go ahead and disagree with on that one.
Now, there are songs like The Black-Eyed Peas “My Humps” which is a very silly song but it knows it’s silly. The band is aware of how ridiculous it is and has fun with it. I have to admit, I absolutely hated that song when I first heard it but it grew on me and when I realized that they were just being silly, as they’re apt to do, I enjoyed it even more. But some lyrics are downright unforgivable when you stop shakin’ it long enough to really pay attention. But, maybe that’s the point, we’re not supposed to stop shaking it. Just dance.
-Age
I’m talking about such biting lyrics as Brittany’s “Outrageous” in which “when I move my body” and “when I’m at a party” stand alone to create the rhyming chorus that’s repeated throughout the song. (Oh, and, by the way, both of those things are apparently outrageous which I feel Brit may be using a bit too liberally). She also uses the line “trench coat and my underwear” without context. Exactly where is she wearing a trench coat and underwear? Is it out and about town or is it just in her kitchen? Does she unbutton the trench coat so people can actually see that all she has underneath is underwear or is it simply a secret for her own amusement? Is it really outrageous? I mean, really?
And then there’s Shakira. I happen to know that Shakira graduated from UCLA (or USC, I can’t actually remember which but it’s one of those) and is probably a pretty clever girl. But her lyrics, come on! I was listening to “My Hips Don’t Lie” which isn’t a bad title, I like it. “Reading the signs of my body,” not bad, really. But the song is featuring Wyclef and he says, during the chorus, “Como se llama. Bonita. Mi casa. Su casa.” Um, this roughly translates to, “What’s your name? Pretty. My house. Your house.” Caveman speech but in Spanish so it’s deceptively smooth-sounding. The thing is, this is totally forgivable as Wyclef is not a native Spanish speaker and can therefore say these short, simple lines without too much judgment. But Shakira, who, being from Columbia (as the song also states), speaks Spanish fluently and responds to Wyclef’s stutterings with, “Oh, baby, when you talk like that, you make a woman go mad.” For reals? Mad? I dunno, Shakira, I’m gonna have to go ahead and disagree with on that one.
Now, there are songs like The Black-Eyed Peas “My Humps” which is a very silly song but it knows it’s silly. The band is aware of how ridiculous it is and has fun with it. I have to admit, I absolutely hated that song when I first heard it but it grew on me and when I realized that they were just being silly, as they’re apt to do, I enjoyed it even more. But some lyrics are downright unforgivable when you stop shakin’ it long enough to really pay attention. But, maybe that’s the point, we’re not supposed to stop shaking it. Just dance.
-Age
Monday, November 15, 2010
Don't Tell Me What To Do! OK, Tell Me.
I’ve always considered myself to be independent but I’ve never really considered myself to be much of a leader. And I’m OK with this. Some people lead, others follow. I’m good at helping. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. No problem. So, being here in Bulgaria, in my own village is forcing me to consider myself in a new light and to embrace the leader in me that apparently must have always existed but never felt the need to make herself known as necessity had never required her skills. I have to step up, create ideas, encourage others to join in, and execute them…by myself. It’s slow-going right now but I see potential for the future. I may even come out of this whole Peace Corps experience a bit bossy. Yeah, that’s right, bossy.
Though the one aspect of my “followingness” that will be ever present is my tendency to literally follow others. I never know where I’m going or how to get there, I simply trust that those around me do and I blindly put all my faith in them and hope to arrive at my destination in a timely manner. And, most of the time, that’s exactly what happens. Some people thrive on being spatially aware and good with directions. I don’t. I’ve been to the post office in my village at least five times and I still hesitate when I’m walking down the street, “Now, is it this way or did I go too far? Crap. Did I just pass it? Oh, wait, no there it is, in the same spot it’s been for 50 years.” It’s silly.
Unfortunately, when I happen to be with someone who is also this way, getting lost and/or walking or driving entirely too far for no good reason, is inevitable. My friend, Katelyn, from my PST group is similar to me in this way. We went to Sofia and knew that we needed to be on the lookout for a certain street in order to eat at a Thai restaurant that she was really looking forward to. We walked for about a mile or so, chatting and walking, walking and chatting, and, before we knew it, we hit a dead-end. We weren’t looking for a street, we were too busy walking and chatting. We had to backtrack, call friends, ask people on the street. It was ridiculous. Honestly, if it wasn’t for that dead-end, we’d probably still be walking. I think we were heading North and it was about 2 months ago so I’m guessing we’d be in the Ukraine which I hear is lovely this time of year.
Anyway, forcing myself to become a leader is going to be a bit challenging I’m sure but I have a lot of great examples in my fellow volunteers and once I put some plans into action and see them turn into something, I’ll feel more encouraged. Plus, I have friends from back home recommending (and sending me cuz they’re awesome) all kinds of great books about teaching and leadership. I plan to educate myself like a true teacher would. Bring it on, Bulgaria!
-Age
Though the one aspect of my “followingness” that will be ever present is my tendency to literally follow others. I never know where I’m going or how to get there, I simply trust that those around me do and I blindly put all my faith in them and hope to arrive at my destination in a timely manner. And, most of the time, that’s exactly what happens. Some people thrive on being spatially aware and good with directions. I don’t. I’ve been to the post office in my village at least five times and I still hesitate when I’m walking down the street, “Now, is it this way or did I go too far? Crap. Did I just pass it? Oh, wait, no there it is, in the same spot it’s been for 50 years.” It’s silly.
Unfortunately, when I happen to be with someone who is also this way, getting lost and/or walking or driving entirely too far for no good reason, is inevitable. My friend, Katelyn, from my PST group is similar to me in this way. We went to Sofia and knew that we needed to be on the lookout for a certain street in order to eat at a Thai restaurant that she was really looking forward to. We walked for about a mile or so, chatting and walking, walking and chatting, and, before we knew it, we hit a dead-end. We weren’t looking for a street, we were too busy walking and chatting. We had to backtrack, call friends, ask people on the street. It was ridiculous. Honestly, if it wasn’t for that dead-end, we’d probably still be walking. I think we were heading North and it was about 2 months ago so I’m guessing we’d be in the Ukraine which I hear is lovely this time of year.
Anyway, forcing myself to become a leader is going to be a bit challenging I’m sure but I have a lot of great examples in my fellow volunteers and once I put some plans into action and see them turn into something, I’ll feel more encouraged. Plus, I have friends from back home recommending (and sending me cuz they’re awesome) all kinds of great books about teaching and leadership. I plan to educate myself like a true teacher would. Bring it on, Bulgaria!
-Age
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Halloween (a little late)
I had a really great Halloween weekend. It started out with the Halloween Fair my counterpart and I planned for our kids that was a great success and it ended with a really fun party in Veliko Turnovo with other volunteers and a hilarious day exploring castles and learning what it really means to swear like a sailor. Here are some pictures from our school fair (my camera was not working during the party so no photos of Slutty Cheese, unfortunately).
An amazing poster made by my 5th grade girls
Sister, aren't they adorable!
The 3rd graders gave a short presentation on Halloween
Mummy-wrapping contest!
Every boy in the room wanted to be a pirate
I had no idea bobbing for apples was gonna be such a big hit!
She was so persistent - what a trooper! My kinda girl!
This picture cracks me up for some reason.
And so went Halloween. Definitely to be repeated next year!
-Age
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Conundrum
So, I was talking to a guy friend of mine last night that recently met a girl he’s interested in and he wanted to know how many times he’d have to call her and create a phone rapport before he could ask her on a face-to-face date. He was hoping to get in two calls and then ask her if he could see her this weekend. I responded with,
“I dunno.”
“Is that enough time or should I wait til the following weekend? Should I call her more than twice before making a date? What do you think?”
“Um…Yeah, I don’t know. Sorry. But I’m gonna go ahead and go with yes, that’s enough and you should go for it!”
“You think so?!”
“Ummmmm….”
He then went on to explain how much work is involved in starting a relationship with a girl. I said,
“Should it feel like work? I mean, when you like a girl, shouldn’t the thought of talking to her and seeing her be fun and exciting, not work?”
“It is fun and exciting, but it’s also work. At least in the beginning. At least for the guy.”
I told him I didn’t think it was fair that the guy gets to be the one that dictates how and when a relationship begins. We have to wait for the guy to call and the guy to make the move. I told him that girls just have to idly wait around and follow the “rules.”
But then I decided that having to call someone up and start a conversation/relationship when you aren’t sure of their feelings for you sounds absolutely terrifying and that I don’t thinks it’s unfair at all now that I’ve quieted the overly-feminist side of my brain and thought it through completely. He’s right, that sounds like a lot of work.
However, it did remind me of a conversation I had with one of my girlfriends from back home. She had been dating this great guy for a little over a year and hoping for a proposal. They discussed marriage and how they would create a life together but he wanted to wait until everything was “just right” before popping the question. I said,
“Does it seem fair to you that it’s up to him when you become engaged? You’re ready now but you have to wait for him to ask you? He knows that you’ll say ‘yes,’ but you still have to wait?”
“Hey…yeah…you’re right! That’s totally unfair. Why should I have to wait?”
She wasn’t silly enough to bring this up to him (thank goodness) and it wasn’t my intention to make her feel like she was being mistreated in any way. I was simply curious as to how she felt about it. These rules of conduct between men and women seem silly to me sometimes but, like most things, I suppose some sort of structure is necessary and this is the structure our society has chosen. Maybe women really are too emotional to handle the type of “work” and responsibility that goes into beginning a relationship or taking that relationship to the next level. Maybe the fact that men are “level-headed” is what makes them perfect for the job.
Or maybe it’s all total crap. Who knows?
Plus, the great mystery in life for most men is the question of “what women want.” It’s been asked a million times and more often than not men resign themselves to the fact that they will simply never know. That a women’s mind is unfathomable. That if someone attempted to explain, it would still be beyond them to comprehend so why bother trying. Though, at the same time, some men are relentless, to no avail.
What men don’t realize (though the movie PS I Love You would have cleared it up for them in a jiffy if they’d simply embrace the occasional chick-flick) is that women have no idea what they want. Of course we don’t, we’re like kids with ADHD. Too many rules and choices and doubts, insecurities and media-engrained ideas of what we should want. Do we listen to our hearts or our heads? Both? We don’t know. It’s not a mystery, it’s a never ending conundrum. Oh man, I really don’t get to use that word enough.
Anyway, my advice to my friend really could go either way. It could work out perfectly and their meeting this weekend could end in wedding bells and bliss…eventually. Or she could feel too much pressure and tell him, “No, thanks, I’m busy this weekend.” It all depends on the girl and what she wants, or what she thinks she wants, at that particular moment. Oh, and the Bulgarian public transportation system which is unreliable to say the least – though when has a train ever been known to stop true love?
Maybe I’m not being fair to women, and I’m making them seem far too fickle. In fact, I’m sure I am but we’re all victims of our whims and the same is true for romance. Despite how that sounds, I wish him the best of luck! Cuz that’s what it all comes down to, after all.
I’m not even sure I believe anything I just wrote. See, conundrum.(twice in one post!)
-Age
“I dunno.”
“Is that enough time or should I wait til the following weekend? Should I call her more than twice before making a date? What do you think?”
“Um…Yeah, I don’t know. Sorry. But I’m gonna go ahead and go with yes, that’s enough and you should go for it!”
“You think so?!”
“Ummmmm….”
He then went on to explain how much work is involved in starting a relationship with a girl. I said,
“Should it feel like work? I mean, when you like a girl, shouldn’t the thought of talking to her and seeing her be fun and exciting, not work?”
“It is fun and exciting, but it’s also work. At least in the beginning. At least for the guy.”
I told him I didn’t think it was fair that the guy gets to be the one that dictates how and when a relationship begins. We have to wait for the guy to call and the guy to make the move. I told him that girls just have to idly wait around and follow the “rules.”
But then I decided that having to call someone up and start a conversation/relationship when you aren’t sure of their feelings for you sounds absolutely terrifying and that I don’t thinks it’s unfair at all now that I’ve quieted the overly-feminist side of my brain and thought it through completely. He’s right, that sounds like a lot of work.
However, it did remind me of a conversation I had with one of my girlfriends from back home. She had been dating this great guy for a little over a year and hoping for a proposal. They discussed marriage and how they would create a life together but he wanted to wait until everything was “just right” before popping the question. I said,
“Does it seem fair to you that it’s up to him when you become engaged? You’re ready now but you have to wait for him to ask you? He knows that you’ll say ‘yes,’ but you still have to wait?”
“Hey…yeah…you’re right! That’s totally unfair. Why should I have to wait?”
She wasn’t silly enough to bring this up to him (thank goodness) and it wasn’t my intention to make her feel like she was being mistreated in any way. I was simply curious as to how she felt about it. These rules of conduct between men and women seem silly to me sometimes but, like most things, I suppose some sort of structure is necessary and this is the structure our society has chosen. Maybe women really are too emotional to handle the type of “work” and responsibility that goes into beginning a relationship or taking that relationship to the next level. Maybe the fact that men are “level-headed” is what makes them perfect for the job.
Or maybe it’s all total crap. Who knows?
Plus, the great mystery in life for most men is the question of “what women want.” It’s been asked a million times and more often than not men resign themselves to the fact that they will simply never know. That a women’s mind is unfathomable. That if someone attempted to explain, it would still be beyond them to comprehend so why bother trying. Though, at the same time, some men are relentless, to no avail.
What men don’t realize (though the movie PS I Love You would have cleared it up for them in a jiffy if they’d simply embrace the occasional chick-flick) is that women have no idea what they want. Of course we don’t, we’re like kids with ADHD. Too many rules and choices and doubts, insecurities and media-engrained ideas of what we should want. Do we listen to our hearts or our heads? Both? We don’t know. It’s not a mystery, it’s a never ending conundrum. Oh man, I really don’t get to use that word enough.
Anyway, my advice to my friend really could go either way. It could work out perfectly and their meeting this weekend could end in wedding bells and bliss…eventually. Or she could feel too much pressure and tell him, “No, thanks, I’m busy this weekend.” It all depends on the girl and what she wants, or what she thinks she wants, at that particular moment. Oh, and the Bulgarian public transportation system which is unreliable to say the least – though when has a train ever been known to stop true love?
Maybe I’m not being fair to women, and I’m making them seem far too fickle. In fact, I’m sure I am but we’re all victims of our whims and the same is true for romance. Despite how that sounds, I wish him the best of luck! Cuz that’s what it all comes down to, after all.
I’m not even sure I believe anything I just wrote. See, conundrum.(twice in one post!)
-Age
Sunday, November 7, 2010
I Just Burned 37 Calories
There’s a dog outside my window, across the street, tied to a make-shift dog house. I think he’s meant to be ferocious but secretly wags his tail a lot and jumps around like a puppy when he thinks no one’s looking. There’s another dog on the other side of a very old brick storage shack that is also tied up. Sometimes, one of them will jump up onto the windowsill outside the shack while the other does the same on his side and they’ll communicate secret messages to each other. Or they just talk about the weather. Who knows? Dogs are wiley like that. However, this is the extent of their interaction except at meal times when the owners come to refill their food buckets.
I want to go pet this poor dog and tell him I love him but, truth be told, I’m kinda scared of him. His growl is probably bigger than his bite but I’m not gonna be the one to test that theory. Maybe if I bring it some food and slowly earn my way into its good graces? His owners probably wouldn’t like that very much. I think the dog’s meant to guard their…pile of wood? Old clothes hanging on the line? Not really sure but I think they want him ferocious as opposed to friendly.
That’s one of the things you’ll notice here in Bulgaria, there are dogs everywhere. And many of them are not pets, or guard dogs, or tied up to…anything. They are just wandering around, sometimes in packs, scaring the bejeezes out of any unsuspecting Americans. When I first got to my permanent site, I would jog a few days a week (mostly to get rid of the weight my host family put on me with ridiculous amounts of fried food and bread). I had a nice route that took me through the park and past the little white church near my apartment. Then a giant dog starting barking and running after me like it wanted to eat me for lunch and I was only saved cuz some man yelled at him (thank God the dog knew Bulgarian) and stopped chasing but did not stop growling or barking. I managed to make it home before collapsing in a heap of nerves on my bed and thinking, “Never again. I’m never running outside again.”. And I haven’t, I only walk now. And that’s the way it’s gonna stay.
The amount of stray dogs is a real problem and I just wonder how these poor things make it through a snowy winter. Maybe they don’t. I almost took a puppy home once. It was wandering around the park, very little, totally cute, and chasing after my heals in that adorable way puppies do, tripping over his paws and making me want to squeeze the fleas right off him. But I didn’t. I left him in the park. I don’t think my landlord would be too keen on me keeping a dog in my apartment which is barely big enough for me. Sigh.
I didn’t write this cuz I have a solution. I just wanted to acknowledge the problem. There are lots of stray dogs here. And the one across the street is mean but I feel like we could be best friends if he didn’t have teeth. Also, I need to find another way to exercise cuz typing only burns 105 calories an hour (I googled it).
Tomorrow the internet guys are coming after 5 weeks of having to steal my neighbor’s super unreliable internet so hopefully I’ll be able to post Halloween pictures soon (it’s so frustrating when you steal things and they turn out not to work properly, but the world is an imperfect place).
-Age
Friday, November 5, 2010
I Feel Like Al Qaida Would Like Me If They Got to Know Me
I believe that Christians make some of the best hypocrites. Believing in one way of life and yet living another. Telling people to do “this” while they do “that”. Encouraging a non-judgmental attitude while judging people that don’t. Christians often give Christianity a bad name (despite the fact that the only name that should matter in terms of Christianity is Jesus) and it’s because we’re not perfect. Yes, I said “we”. I’m a Christian. Surprised? Gosh, I hope not but I wouldn’t be shocked if you were.
The thing is, if Christians were perfect, we wouldn’t need God. It’s our imperfections, our struggles with the world and its temptations that draw us to God. He is full of life and true meaning, His perfection gives us hope despite that lack of ours. He pulls us in because He is “gentle and humble in heart,” something you wouldn’t expect from the God of the Universe, at least I didn’t until I was awed by this verse.
Christians are supposed to love all without prejudice, condition, or judgment yet they are often one of the most judged group of people themselves. Because of the Bible and its Golden Rules, abstinences, grace, humbleness, godliness, holiness, kindness, wisdom, etc. it makes a very difficult model to live up to. And people are watching. Oh, are they watching. Ready to pounce on the Christian that just couldn’t cut it and fell flat on her face. It’s not easy.
I find myself keeping my Christianity, not a secret, but close to it. I’m defensive about it. Because I feel that the second someone knows, I’ll be under scrutiny. And I should not be scrutinized as a representative of Christ. By no means. I’m far too flawed and full of really silly life decisions to represent someone who’s fully capable of representing Himself. However, I wish that wasn’t the case. I wish I could walk proudly in my faith. Talk about it more and not feel that my lack of good choices makes me unqualified to be what I am: A believer in Christ and His message.
I also find myself avoiding certain topics of conversation. Even now, I’m don’t want to bring up the specific types of conversations because there are things about myself I’m not comfortable revealing. Though I should be. It’s too difficult to be a conservative Christian in this modern society. It makes me abnormal, old-fashioned, and strange.
Though, at the same time, I don’t think all my ideas are conservative in nature. I think homosexual marriage should be accepted and allowed without the Christian community condemning it because it’s…what? I don’t know what their issue is. Love is love. And it’s not as though procreation is an issue anymore. Many gay couples adopt children that would have otherwise been without a home. I could go on and on.
Which is another thing: I hesitate to write about the good, Christianity-based decisions I’ve made in life but I can write about my modern, socially-acceptable beliefs without hesitation. That’s not good. I need a self over-haul. I need to figure out exactly what it is I believe and be that person. Despite who likes it and who doesn’t.
I feel like Pam Beasley from The Office when she talks about how she doesn’t like it when people don’t like her, “I don’t even like knowing that Al Qaida doesn’t like me. You know what? I feel like, if they got to know me, they would like me.” I’m the same way! I think Pam and I would be really good friends if she were real.
Sigh. Another tangent. I think I just like to put this stuff out into the world so it’s extended further than my crowded mind. So it’s acknowledged. Plus, you guys are always super sweet whenever I berate myself like this. So maybe I’m just looking for a pat on the back and a “it’s cool, Adrienne, you’ll be fine. Just stop being so whiny and self-reflective.” Thanks, guys. Will do.
-Age
Friday, October 29, 2010
I Bet You a Lev...
I like to bet. I'm not a gambler by any means. I don't usually bet money and if I do it's a dollar (or a lev) and I usually never actually pay it. However, I do have a seriously lofty 200 leva bet going on at the moment involving some really boring books and a volunteer that I'm hoping is semi-illiterate. But the circumstances in which we shook on this particular bet are circumspect so I don't think he'll hold me to it when the time comes and he turns out to be the victor because I can't read Greek Mythology and stay awake at the same time. And if he does, I'll just avoid his calls and facebook posts til he gets the hint.
But, yeah, I like to bet. Like, who's gonna be the next to leave PC Bulgaria early? Whose gonna head back to the States defeated though able to drown their sorrows in In 'N Out and Taco Bell? Whose gonna pack it up cuz the Winter was too cold (I know what you're thinking), or the work was too challenging, or they simply realized that this wasn't the place for them afterall? I'm not saying I'll be happy to win. I don't really want anyone to leave, it just seems like an inevitability, you know? So why not make a bet of it, a positive spin, if you will? But I won't be happy. I might be a little happy - but I'll contain it. I like to win.
I especially like to bet with other people who like to bet. The type of person that I make wagers with so often that the second a remotely interesting opportunity presents itself in which we can say, "I'll bet you a dollar that (this) will happen," we instantly catch each others eye and give one another that knowing look: a bet is coming...
It's like "that's what she said," only better. Wait, no, not better. But it's close.
I also like to make bets about the volunteers that are going to end up together. Apparently, there is a 1 in 10 statistic which implies that at least 8 volunteers from our group will marry either a Bulgarian or another volunteer because of this Peace Corps adventure. That's pretty exciting and way too enticing to pass up, from a better's standpoint. Some people are already dating and seemingly in love which is sort of cheating so I like to choose those couple that aren't quite couples yet...but they will be...cuz I like to win. I won't mention any names but if I forget to bring a book on a train ride I sometimes play this game with myself. I'm really good at it.
I'm open to any other betting ideas if you have some!
-Age
But, yeah, I like to bet. Like, who's gonna be the next to leave PC Bulgaria early? Whose gonna head back to the States defeated though able to drown their sorrows in In 'N Out and Taco Bell? Whose gonna pack it up cuz the Winter was too cold (I know what you're thinking), or the work was too challenging, or they simply realized that this wasn't the place for them afterall? I'm not saying I'll be happy to win. I don't really want anyone to leave, it just seems like an inevitability, you know? So why not make a bet of it, a positive spin, if you will? But I won't be happy. I might be a little happy - but I'll contain it. I like to win.
I especially like to bet with other people who like to bet. The type of person that I make wagers with so often that the second a remotely interesting opportunity presents itself in which we can say, "I'll bet you a dollar that (this) will happen," we instantly catch each others eye and give one another that knowing look: a bet is coming...
It's like "that's what she said," only better. Wait, no, not better. But it's close.
I also like to make bets about the volunteers that are going to end up together. Apparently, there is a 1 in 10 statistic which implies that at least 8 volunteers from our group will marry either a Bulgarian or another volunteer because of this Peace Corps adventure. That's pretty exciting and way too enticing to pass up, from a better's standpoint. Some people are already dating and seemingly in love which is sort of cheating so I like to choose those couple that aren't quite couples yet...but they will be...cuz I like to win. I won't mention any names but if I forget to bring a book on a train ride I sometimes play this game with myself. I'm really good at it.
I'm open to any other betting ideas if you have some!
-Age
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Foot Fetish
Normally, a Saturday trip to Sofia isn't eventful enough to write about but yesterday's adventure is a whole different story. Well, at least what happened to me in the morning, at the train station, while I was eating a dooner, reading a book, and minding my own business...
It's early for a Saturday and, though the sun is out, it's still quite chilly so I plant myself right in the center of the sun's rays, at a cafe in front of the station, where I plan on meeting some friends in the next 30 minutes or so when up walks this guy. Now, the surprising thing about this guy is he's young (early 20's maybe) and he's reasonably good-looking and appears to be quite normal. A typical, Bulgarian dude. Um, no.
When he sits, I think, "OK. He wants to talk. Fine." So I introduce myself in Bulgarian and I explain that I don't know the language well. He doesn't say...anything. He's just looking at me. I think, "maybe he didn't realize I'm a foreigner and is now regretting his forwardness." Something I'm totally OK with. Eventually, when I can't get him to say anything and I'm not really sure what he's doing I say, "Um, OK, well, you're kinda weird and I'm going to go back to my book now."
But then he points at my foot. I think he's asking about my tattoos so I explain that they're in Spanish and Italian. He says, "no." I'm thinking, "He must think I'm asking him if he speaks Italian or Spanish." I consider trying to explain it again but I really don't care that much and he's starting to get on my nerves. It's at this point, when I'm trying to figure out how to get rid of him that he does the most unexpected thing...
He takes my foot out from under the table, holds it up a few inches off the ground, lowers his face towards the foot...and licks it! I cannot make this up! I was shocked! I could see the wet streak across my tattoos but I couldn't actually comprehend what had just happened.
I said, "That's disgusting! What the hell is wrong with you!" I start to get up to leave when he grabs my foot and won't let go. That's when I get angry. I said "stop" and "no" repeatedly until people waiting at the nearby bus stop began to look over at us and finally I yanked my foot out of his hands. I can't even remember the words for "stop" and "enough" in Bulgarian that we learned to use in situations such as these. I storm off thinking "What the F*" over and over, praying he is not following me. He wasn't.
I find sanctuary in the upper level of the bus station next door and imagine how I'm going to explain this particular situation which, now that I'm safe, is actually quite hilarious. I would shiver every five minutes or so just from the pure creepiness of the it all but I eventually just decided it was one of those crazy stories I get to take home from Bulgaria.
After my friends, Priscilla and Deanna arrived, I told them my story and they decided that he must have some sort of foot fetish. I said, "A public foot fetish with strangers! That's too weird. Not to mention, I'm wondering if he's done this before and how the girl's reacted. Not positively, I'm sure."
Then Priscilla says, "Maybe he just keeps trying until he finds that certain one, the girl of his dreams who doesn't cringe."
"That's true," I say, "I mean, might as well get it out there right in the beginning. Why bother beating around the bush. Just let the girl know, hey, this is what I'm into, you can't handle it, run away screaming, that's what all the other girls do."
Creepy punk.
-Age
It's early for a Saturday and, though the sun is out, it's still quite chilly so I plant myself right in the center of the sun's rays, at a cafe in front of the station, where I plan on meeting some friends in the next 30 minutes or so when up walks this guy. Now, the surprising thing about this guy is he's young (early 20's maybe) and he's reasonably good-looking and appears to be quite normal. A typical, Bulgarian dude. Um, no.
When he sits, I think, "OK. He wants to talk. Fine." So I introduce myself in Bulgarian and I explain that I don't know the language well. He doesn't say...anything. He's just looking at me. I think, "maybe he didn't realize I'm a foreigner and is now regretting his forwardness." Something I'm totally OK with. Eventually, when I can't get him to say anything and I'm not really sure what he's doing I say, "Um, OK, well, you're kinda weird and I'm going to go back to my book now."
But then he points at my foot. I think he's asking about my tattoos so I explain that they're in Spanish and Italian. He says, "no." I'm thinking, "He must think I'm asking him if he speaks Italian or Spanish." I consider trying to explain it again but I really don't care that much and he's starting to get on my nerves. It's at this point, when I'm trying to figure out how to get rid of him that he does the most unexpected thing...
He takes my foot out from under the table, holds it up a few inches off the ground, lowers his face towards the foot...and licks it! I cannot make this up! I was shocked! I could see the wet streak across my tattoos but I couldn't actually comprehend what had just happened.
I said, "That's disgusting! What the hell is wrong with you!" I start to get up to leave when he grabs my foot and won't let go. That's when I get angry. I said "stop" and "no" repeatedly until people waiting at the nearby bus stop began to look over at us and finally I yanked my foot out of his hands. I can't even remember the words for "stop" and "enough" in Bulgarian that we learned to use in situations such as these. I storm off thinking "What the F*" over and over, praying he is not following me. He wasn't.
I find sanctuary in the upper level of the bus station next door and imagine how I'm going to explain this particular situation which, now that I'm safe, is actually quite hilarious. I would shiver every five minutes or so just from the pure creepiness of the it all but I eventually just decided it was one of those crazy stories I get to take home from Bulgaria.
After my friends, Priscilla and Deanna arrived, I told them my story and they decided that he must have some sort of foot fetish. I said, "A public foot fetish with strangers! That's too weird. Not to mention, I'm wondering if he's done this before and how the girl's reacted. Not positively, I'm sure."
Then Priscilla says, "Maybe he just keeps trying until he finds that certain one, the girl of his dreams who doesn't cringe."
"That's true," I say, "I mean, might as well get it out there right in the beginning. Why bother beating around the bush. Just let the girl know, hey, this is what I'm into, you can't handle it, run away screaming, that's what all the other girls do."
Creepy punk.
-Age
Saturday, October 23, 2010
No Offense, But...
No offense to those who’ve claimed to have experienced it, but I don’t actually believe that love at first sight exists. Unless certain people’s idea of love is simply to be attracted to another, in which case I myself have fallen in love many a time with a single glance. However, I think it’s better described as lust at first sight. Which is fine and perfectly normal as everyone has experienced this particular, um, emotion. We see someone we find attractive and our brain goes, “I want to have that,” but that’s hardly romantic and not something I would brag about until actual words are exchanged.
Not to mention that the keyword of this particular phrase is “sight,” right? So, it’s based on what a person sees. I’m just wondering, is lighting at all a factor? Does setting or atmosphere play into all of this? If a person is absolutely wonderful in every way, a genius, a family man, a doer of good deeds, does he somehow get cast out of the love at first sight game because he has no sense of fashion? I mean, these people who are falling in love at first sight, are we really wanting to encourage this? Should these people actually get together and, gulp, procreate? Is this benefitting society? I’ll leave you to ponder that.
Now, if lust at first sight were to turn in to love after many sights and talks and kisses, well, those situations turn into really great stories told by little old ladies with thick glasses and a constant desire to pat anyone under the age of 40 on top of the head. But it’s best if these particular people are clear about when the lust finally blossomed into love. You know, for the sake of children and stupid people as both are highly impressionable groups.
Unless of course you are a rich business man looking for a trophy wife, then lust at first sight is rather perfect for your particular needs. That, and an extensive background check coupled with a strong relationship to a renowned plastic surgeon.
I’m actually really confused as to why love at first sight is even considered a romantic notion. I remember being young and hearing it for the first time and, at first, smiling and thinking it was sweet and lovely as the person using the phrase said it in such a way that my only option was to indeed find it sweet and lovely, but upon further reflection my staunchly independent (some would call it bratty) nature, caused me to realized that the phrase made no sense at all. How could you be in love without actually knowing the person you’re in love with unless you’re, well, I’ll just say it, dumb?
I think the issue is that this particular American phrase was created many generations ago when the desire to be considered an individual was not as prolific as it is today. Everyone was basically the same and people were OK with that. If a woman was to find a man attractive then love is a perfectly good description of that feeling as he’s probably kind, hard-working, moderately sexist, and a lover of bacon and long afternoon naps. Nothing sweeter.
But today that is simply not the case. We are all so different and assumptions can only cause trouble. You simply can’t be in love with just a glance in today’s society, it’s no longer applicable.
Perhaps I’m being too conservative. I will allow “like” at first sight if that appeases anyone who was in any way put off by my view of things. I mean, maybe the first time you saw the guy he was coaching a baseball team full of wheelchair-bound orphans. Or that sweet looking girl was passing out meals to the homeless while leading all the other volunteers in a tear-jerking rendition of Amazing Grace. I could fall in instant like with that kind of crap. Sure.
I suppose one could argue that unless you've experienced this particular phenomenon, then there's really no way to know if there's any validity to it, some people are simply capable of true, instant love. And I could argue that some people are morons. So no more of this love at first sight business, please.
-Age
Monday, October 18, 2010
Not Sure
I've been questioning myself a lot lately. Questioning why I'm here, why I can't get my students to listen to me, and how other volunteers may fair far better if they were in my school, my town, my situation instead of me. I have this “I don't have what it takes” feeling all the time and it's a heavy burden to carry down the streets of this small village all alone. See, the winter isn't even here yet and I'm already suffering from...depression?
No, it's not that serious. But sometimes I feel this overwhelming helpless feeling. When my seventh graders get so angry they throw chairs across the room, curse at me at the top of their lungs and storm at of my class and the Director has to intervene, I feel helpless. I literally have no idea what to do. I know what not to do. I don't panic. I don't yell back. I won't ever hit them and I still hesitate to lay anything but a friendly hand on my students. But what do I do?
When I've planned this great lesson where I dress up like a Baba and tell the students their fortunes in order to practice future continuous and two students rip their chairs apart and race them around the classroom like 5-year-olds and my counterpart gives them a 15 minute lecture in which they spend the majority of the time arguing with her at the top of their voices, what do I do? I stand there. I try to understand what's being said in rapid Bulgarian. I look apologetically towards the few students in the class who genuinely want to learn English but can't. I stand there. I do...nothing.
I want to do something. I want to know exactly what to do in that moment and execute it with the precision of a seasoned teacher who's been in this situation many times and knows exactly what needs to be done. Or I want to be one of those teachers that is just naturally good at this, a person whose presence commands attention and respect. I've had teachers like that, teachers who could bring me to tears with one disappointed look. I'd like these students to feel something at the idea of disappointing their teachers, something more than a shrug of the shoulders.
I definitely make the mistake of being too friendly, too buddy-buddy with the students. Teasing me becomes a game and while I know that there is a time and a place for such games and laughs the students have a difficult time differentiating between in the classroom and out of the classroom. It's sad that I may have to be serious all the time when I'm around them simply so they know I mean business when I'm in front of the white board but I'm less and less inclined to be their buddy anyway. The level of disrespect is really starting to take it's toll. I not only feel anger and frustration when they disrespect me but when they disrespect my counterpart or other teachers at the school. It's just awful. And, again, I don't know what to do.
I understand that I'm probably not the only one facing this. But it kinda feels like it. It's only been 4 weeks and I'm burnt out. If you'd told me 4 weeks ago this was going to happen, I wouldn't have believed you. Me? Burnt out? Never. I'm like the Enegizer Bunny. The Little Engine That Could. I can't burn out. Now, I'm not saying I'm gonna give up. That's something I won't do. But things are gonna change. I'm gonna focus more on secondary projects. I'm gonna reach out to those students who care. I'm gonna set an example while still maintaining an appropriate distance. I'm gonna read my Bible more. I know that seems unrelated but, for me, it isn't. I need His guidance. I need to feel that I'm not alone. That I'm being taken care of, watched over, that there is a reason I'm here. I mean, if this all really means nothing and we're just floating around in space, why would I feel the need to be here, in Bulgaria? I'd be in Tahiti or something. I'd work at a bar for 8 hours to make money and spend the rest of my time in a hammock waiting out the end in “happiness.”
Happiness, whatever that means, is achievable here, it just seems so far away right now. I don't want to be one of those teachers that holds her breath for Christmas vacation, who can't wait for the weekend so she can hop on a train and disappear. I need help. I don't think I can do this by myself. That's not easy for a girl like me to admit. But I'm not sure I can do this.
-Age
No, it's not that serious. But sometimes I feel this overwhelming helpless feeling. When my seventh graders get so angry they throw chairs across the room, curse at me at the top of their lungs and storm at of my class and the Director has to intervene, I feel helpless. I literally have no idea what to do. I know what not to do. I don't panic. I don't yell back. I won't ever hit them and I still hesitate to lay anything but a friendly hand on my students. But what do I do?
When I've planned this great lesson where I dress up like a Baba and tell the students their fortunes in order to practice future continuous and two students rip their chairs apart and race them around the classroom like 5-year-olds and my counterpart gives them a 15 minute lecture in which they spend the majority of the time arguing with her at the top of their voices, what do I do? I stand there. I try to understand what's being said in rapid Bulgarian. I look apologetically towards the few students in the class who genuinely want to learn English but can't. I stand there. I do...nothing.
I want to do something. I want to know exactly what to do in that moment and execute it with the precision of a seasoned teacher who's been in this situation many times and knows exactly what needs to be done. Or I want to be one of those teachers that is just naturally good at this, a person whose presence commands attention and respect. I've had teachers like that, teachers who could bring me to tears with one disappointed look. I'd like these students to feel something at the idea of disappointing their teachers, something more than a shrug of the shoulders.
I definitely make the mistake of being too friendly, too buddy-buddy with the students. Teasing me becomes a game and while I know that there is a time and a place for such games and laughs the students have a difficult time differentiating between in the classroom and out of the classroom. It's sad that I may have to be serious all the time when I'm around them simply so they know I mean business when I'm in front of the white board but I'm less and less inclined to be their buddy anyway. The level of disrespect is really starting to take it's toll. I not only feel anger and frustration when they disrespect me but when they disrespect my counterpart or other teachers at the school. It's just awful. And, again, I don't know what to do.
I understand that I'm probably not the only one facing this. But it kinda feels like it. It's only been 4 weeks and I'm burnt out. If you'd told me 4 weeks ago this was going to happen, I wouldn't have believed you. Me? Burnt out? Never. I'm like the Enegizer Bunny. The Little Engine That Could. I can't burn out. Now, I'm not saying I'm gonna give up. That's something I won't do. But things are gonna change. I'm gonna focus more on secondary projects. I'm gonna reach out to those students who care. I'm gonna set an example while still maintaining an appropriate distance. I'm gonna read my Bible more. I know that seems unrelated but, for me, it isn't. I need His guidance. I need to feel that I'm not alone. That I'm being taken care of, watched over, that there is a reason I'm here. I mean, if this all really means nothing and we're just floating around in space, why would I feel the need to be here, in Bulgaria? I'd be in Tahiti or something. I'd work at a bar for 8 hours to make money and spend the rest of my time in a hammock waiting out the end in “happiness.”
Happiness, whatever that means, is achievable here, it just seems so far away right now. I don't want to be one of those teachers that holds her breath for Christmas vacation, who can't wait for the weekend so she can hop on a train and disappear. I need help. I don't think I can do this by myself. That's not easy for a girl like me to admit. But I'm not sure I can do this.
-Age
Friday, October 15, 2010
Holla Atcha Ladies!
I absolutely love the women I used to work with back in the States. I may have loved them beyond what is reasonable. I worked at a day care, a day care run by the City of Grand Terrace so the emphasis was not on profits and weekly rates but on graham crackers and sippy cups. I had three bosses and one mentor/counterpart. All amazing women for different reasons and all close friends. I miss them tremendously and know that I’ll probably never work for another business that had that kind of care and work ethic put forth by management. Unless of course I create that sort of work environment myself one day. Hmmmm, food for thought.
Anyway, I thought I’d dedicate this post to them because I currently miss their structure, support, and “above and beyond” attitude so vehemently that I would gladly be paid in, not money, but smiles and baby-kisses for the rest of my life in order to enjoy my work as much as I did with these women. The only thing it lacked for me was a significant enough challenge (unless you count dealing with the crazy parents on a daily basis). Oh, and men. Thirty-five women and no men? Come on. So, apparently they weren’t perfect but I’m willing to forgive sexism when it leans in the favor of my particular gender.
I’m going to dedicate the following conversation to them to honor their awesomeness. This conversation took place in my head with an imaginary person I’m going to name Wanda. This is awkward and strange and may not be suited for all audiences but I’m sure The Ladies expect nothing less. Readers, be advised:
Me: I love the ladies from the day care. They were so great.
Wanda: Really? You loved them? That seems like a strong emotion to feel for a colleague.
Me: They weren’t colleagues. They were my friends. And I did love them. In fact, if I could be a lesbian and marry an entire group of people, I would marry them. Collectively. The marriage certificate would say “Adrienne and The Ladies.”
Wanda: That’s weird.
Me: You're right, I’d probably have to move to Utah to be able to accomplish something like that and then I’d probably have to find some liberal, progressive branch of Mormonism and convert.
Wanda: That's not what I meant when I said that's weird and...what the hell are you talking about?
Me: You know, they’d be progressive and allow lesbians to marry but they’d also keep it old-school and still let people have multiple wives. It’s like the Old Testament meets the 21st century and it all culminates in me being able to hypothetically marry an entire group of my friends in order to express how much I love them. Get it?
Wanda: What? Is? Wrong? With? You?
Me: You don’t get it. It’s just a metaphor. I would marry peanut butter if I could. That’s how much I love peanut butter. But I love The Ladies even more than I love peanut butter. Hello? Metaphors? Pick up a book or something, Wanda. Jeez.
And scene.
I feel like that accurately expresses my feelings and sufficiently reminds all who may have forgotten that I’m kinda weird. But you still love me, don’t you? How could you not love something so twisted and endearing?
Keep up the good work ladies and know that I miss you tremendously. Also, Utah, think about it!
-Age
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Awesome Things I Get To Do ('Get To' Being My Optimistic Spin On Things)
I have a lot of projects in the works right now. I'm trying to get as much done as possible before the winter hits and everything and everyone slows down. I still struggle with teaching as a team and trying to control a classroom full of undisciplined yet sweet and fun-loving students but I feel like that will get easier with time so I'm going to branch out and make this busy life even busier.
In a couple short weeks I'll be conducting a Halloween Fair at my school. Every student will be given the opportunity to skip their last period and join me and several other teachers who have volunteered their time to play games, carve pumpkins, bob for apples, eat tons of candy, and win awesome prizes. And, of course, dress up! The students seem to be most excited about the opportunity to wear costumes to school. The thing is, it's seems that every student I talk to is going to be...Pippy Longstalkings. I've fascinated to find out the reason why so many students have this costume. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Pippy. What girl who grew up in the 80's doesn't? But why? That's all I want to know. Why?
My adult English class is going strong as well. We're about halfway through the lengthy lessons I have planned and my students are staying positive and punctual. We've moved that class up a half an hour and cut it down from 2 ½ hours to only 2 because it's getting dark so soon but we should be finished by early December. I'm excited to see how their language progresses. I don't get the impression they practice at home much but, hey, neither do my students. Not to mention, I can't remember the last time I practiced Bulgarian at home. That's one of my winter plans, to really buckle down and increase my language skills because they have not got much better since the end of PST and I'm a little worried.
-Age
In a couple short weeks I'll be conducting a Halloween Fair at my school. Every student will be given the opportunity to skip their last period and join me and several other teachers who have volunteered their time to play games, carve pumpkins, bob for apples, eat tons of candy, and win awesome prizes. And, of course, dress up! The students seem to be most excited about the opportunity to wear costumes to school. The thing is, it's seems that every student I talk to is going to be...Pippy Longstalkings. I've fascinated to find out the reason why so many students have this costume. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Pippy. What girl who grew up in the 80's doesn't? But why? That's all I want to know. Why?
My adult English class is going strong as well. We're about halfway through the lengthy lessons I have planned and my students are staying positive and punctual. We've moved that class up a half an hour and cut it down from 2 ½ hours to only 2 because it's getting dark so soon but we should be finished by early December. I'm excited to see how their language progresses. I don't get the impression they practice at home much but, hey, neither do my students. Not to mention, I can't remember the last time I practiced Bulgarian at home. That's one of my winter plans, to really buckle down and increase my language skills because they have not got much better since the end of PST and I'm a little worried.
I've also recently started a girls' volleyball team. We practice every Thursday afternoon in the recently refurbished gym next to our school. There are almost 20 girls which is entirely too many but I have a feeling the numbers will dwindle when they realize they actually have to take this seriously. The first practice was absolute chaos. The teenage boys from our school had heard about it and wanted to “watch”. I didnt' believe that for a second and told them no but they snuck anyway and spent the first 30 minutes making my life hell. Eventually I found another teacher to yell at them in Bulgarian and make them leave. The children really are not used to being told what to do, they seem to assume that free reign is their priveledge so needless to say, they were pissed. It was kinda funny actually. I was then allowed to conduct practice. Oh, wait. No. My collection of 5th, 6th, and 7th grade girls decided they were going to conduct practice. They had no patience for my limited Bulgarian and decided to start a game on their own. I threw up my hands, told them they obviously didn't need me and that I would just watch and maybe go home since I was tired anyway. I watched for maybe 3 minutes as they smacked the ball towards the floor and each others' faces before they asked me to come back and coach them properly. I told them that if I saw anymore attitude, they could leave. The practice went smoothely from there. After an hour. Sigh. Hopefully next practice I'll be able to get the chaos controlled within the first 30 minutes. High hopes, I know.
I'll also be writing a request for 100 pounds of free books from an organization in the US I recently heard about. I'm pretty excited about this and hope to use these books to get my lower students back up to the appropriate level as well as to challenge my students who really go above and beyond (though there are far fewer of those students, unfortunately).
I'm hoping by December, or the first snowfall, whichever comes first, to have all of this checked off the list of Awesome Things I Get To Do As A Peace Corps Volunteer. And then I'll take a much needed break. I'm thinking Italy. Seriously, plans are being made and I may just spend the New Year in my favorite country!!! Cross your fingers that it all works out!
-Age
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