What I want to say to the old man standing way too close to me in the ticket line at the train station:
"Um, excuse me. You're uncomfortably close."
"You see, I'm American and I've been raised with this concept of 'personal space' and your breath on my neck is violating that."
"Are you trying to put your money through the slot before me? I'm standing right in front of it. Clearly I'm buying a ticket right now, at this moment. Yup, that's exactly what you're doing. Wow."
"You're touching me. You're actually so close to me while we stand in this line that your arm is touching my arm and I could lick your face if I wanted to just by sticking out my tongue. Do you want me to lick you? Is that what all this is about?"
"Hey, I get that you're old and you don't like to wait in line because you want a good seat on the train. I get it. I really do. But. All the politeness and respect I was taught to show the elderly went out the window the second you set your bag on my feet and tried to cut me in line. There. Is. No. Cutting. Didn't you go to kindergarten? Cuz that's where I learned that rule. That's where I learned that that rule is more important than any other rule. Rules like 'don't throw dirt at your friends' and 'glue is not for eating' don't even come close to the 'no cutting' rule so you're currently in violation of everything I know and it's making me want to punch you. Which I'm also pretty sure is a rule: 'no punching'. But I'll do it. In my mind. Repeatedly. Actually, I'm doing it right now. In my mind you're crying and will never cut again."
-Age
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Culture Thursday
I'm going to walk a fine line between "cultural insensitivity" and "keeping it real" today. I want to relate what I've seen here in Bulgaria while at the same time remaining respectful. That being said, here I go.
In Bulgaria there is very little diversity. There are basically three different races/cultures here: Bulgarian, Turkish, and Roma. And while the Roma and Turkish peoples should also be considered Bulgarian by nationality because many of these families have been here for some time, the lines are always a little grey.
But that's about it. Everyone basically looks the same. Acts the same. Speaks the same. The culture varies little because, hey, it's a small country and what should we expect.
So, when someone who does not look like they belong here, i.e. volunteers from America, walk down the street, sit at a bus stop, order food in a restaurant, there is often, particularly in smaller communities, a standard response: staring.
I get stared at walking down the street in my non-Bulgarian clothes, with my non-Bulgarian sunglasses, my non-Bulgarian walk (Bulgarians don't really walk, they stroll, never in a hurry), and I'm watched. When I sit on a train people will change seats in order to gain a better vantage point for unabashed staring. And I'm not even all that different looking. I sometimes wonder what it's like for other volunteers that are, let's say, not white. Must be tough.
I'm not trying to say that it's a part of Bulgarian culture to stare. It's not. What I am saying is that the huge differences in Americans' and Bulgarians' reactions to diversity are what cause the stares to seem so odd and blatant. To me, at least.
We were told being volunteers in a foreign country would be like living in a fishbowl and that we would have to constantly watch our conduct because our conduct would be constantly watched.
But, sometimes, I think it would be fun to take advantage of all this staring. To embrace it and realize that, no matter what, I'll be stared at so I might as well do whatever the hell I want. I mean to say, do the types of things that would absolutely get me stared at in The States not because I'm different looking, but because what I'm doing is friggin' weird.
Like using the big fountain in the center of town as a swimming pool. Or putting little fish in it and coming to feed them every day.
Or power walking, but just back and forth across the street in the exact same spot over and over for like 30 minutes, pointing and winking at every car that drives by.
Or furiously playing the air guitar inside a local store and then taking a bow when finished.
Or reading at a local cafe and jumping up to dance around the table every time I finish reading a chapter. Then high-fiving everyone around and saying, "Oh yeah! Another chapter down! I am SO good at reading! That book doesn't stand a chance!"
I think as long as I was in complete control of the stares and thought that every Bulgarian was perfectly justified in stopping, mid-sentence, to watch me with wide eyes, life would be a lot more fun.
Just sayin'.
-Age
In Bulgaria there is very little diversity. There are basically three different races/cultures here: Bulgarian, Turkish, and Roma. And while the Roma and Turkish peoples should also be considered Bulgarian by nationality because many of these families have been here for some time, the lines are always a little grey.
But that's about it. Everyone basically looks the same. Acts the same. Speaks the same. The culture varies little because, hey, it's a small country and what should we expect.
So, when someone who does not look like they belong here, i.e. volunteers from America, walk down the street, sit at a bus stop, order food in a restaurant, there is often, particularly in smaller communities, a standard response: staring.
I get stared at walking down the street in my non-Bulgarian clothes, with my non-Bulgarian sunglasses, my non-Bulgarian walk (Bulgarians don't really walk, they stroll, never in a hurry), and I'm watched. When I sit on a train people will change seats in order to gain a better vantage point for unabashed staring. And I'm not even all that different looking. I sometimes wonder what it's like for other volunteers that are, let's say, not white. Must be tough.
I'm not trying to say that it's a part of Bulgarian culture to stare. It's not. What I am saying is that the huge differences in Americans' and Bulgarians' reactions to diversity are what cause the stares to seem so odd and blatant. To me, at least.
We were told being volunteers in a foreign country would be like living in a fishbowl and that we would have to constantly watch our conduct because our conduct would be constantly watched.
But, sometimes, I think it would be fun to take advantage of all this staring. To embrace it and realize that, no matter what, I'll be stared at so I might as well do whatever the hell I want. I mean to say, do the types of things that would absolutely get me stared at in The States not because I'm different looking, but because what I'm doing is friggin' weird.
Like using the big fountain in the center of town as a swimming pool. Or putting little fish in it and coming to feed them every day.
Or power walking, but just back and forth across the street in the exact same spot over and over for like 30 minutes, pointing and winking at every car that drives by.
Or furiously playing the air guitar inside a local store and then taking a bow when finished.
Or reading at a local cafe and jumping up to dance around the table every time I finish reading a chapter. Then high-fiving everyone around and saying, "Oh yeah! Another chapter down! I am SO good at reading! That book doesn't stand a chance!"
I think as long as I was in complete control of the stares and thought that every Bulgarian was perfectly justified in stopping, mid-sentence, to watch me with wide eyes, life would be a lot more fun.
Just sayin'.
-Age
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Boys Will Be Boys and Girls Will Be Trouble
I held my first day of Summer School yesterday but it wasn't until today that kids actually showed up (after I yelled at them for not being there). But that's boring and no one cares about it so let me tell you a story instead:
Today, while I was playing sports with my 6th and 7th graders in front of the school, a couple of boys around that same age walked up and lingered. You know the type: mullet, short shorts, flip flops...OK, maybe you don't but it's totally the sh** around here so, of course, all my girls start to giggle and point and act absolutely ridiculous.
One girl would yell over to them that another girl was in love with them and then another girl would yell back that it wasn't true and that, in fact, it was the first girl who was in love with them and then they would all laugh and giggle and the boys would look pleasantly uncomfortable (or uncomfortably pleased?) and ignore them.
Um, barf.
I'm not saying I didn't used to do these things (I totally did) but having to translate it in my head and feel the full force of these kids' first attempt at flirting was not my favorite thing. I'd like to think my flirting skills have improved since I was in 6th grade but I still practically yell across rooms to boys and say, "Hey, my friend likes you!" It's slightly more subtle than that but only slightly. I have a horribly recent example of just such an occassion but I'll keep it to myself. Let's just say it involved Sofia, a sweater vest, and me thinking I was the slyest girl in the bar. I wasn't.
Anyway, it just struck me as funny how similar kids can be no matter where they're from and what language they speak. I wonder if I was in some small village in Africa instead of some small village in Bulgaria if I'd have to put our soccer game on hold so those kids could yell at a couple of boys? Probably.
Ah, youth. I didn't appreciate it when it was mine though the idea of repeating it sounds like absolute torture.
Despite their antics, I really missed my kids. I've designated Monday's as game days, Tuesday's as sports days, and Wednesdays as excursion days so tomorrow we're off to hike in the local mountains. It'll just be me and a crap-load of kids hiking up a mountain I've never actually hiked. My goal is to bring back at least 90% of them. I feel like that's pretty reasonable. Wish me luck!
-Age
Today, while I was playing sports with my 6th and 7th graders in front of the school, a couple of boys around that same age walked up and lingered. You know the type: mullet, short shorts, flip flops...OK, maybe you don't but it's totally the sh** around here so, of course, all my girls start to giggle and point and act absolutely ridiculous.
One girl would yell over to them that another girl was in love with them and then another girl would yell back that it wasn't true and that, in fact, it was the first girl who was in love with them and then they would all laugh and giggle and the boys would look pleasantly uncomfortable (or uncomfortably pleased?) and ignore them.
Um, barf.
I'm not saying I didn't used to do these things (I totally did) but having to translate it in my head and feel the full force of these kids' first attempt at flirting was not my favorite thing. I'd like to think my flirting skills have improved since I was in 6th grade but I still practically yell across rooms to boys and say, "Hey, my friend likes you!" It's slightly more subtle than that but only slightly. I have a horribly recent example of just such an occassion but I'll keep it to myself. Let's just say it involved Sofia, a sweater vest, and me thinking I was the slyest girl in the bar. I wasn't.
Anyway, it just struck me as funny how similar kids can be no matter where they're from and what language they speak. I wonder if I was in some small village in Africa instead of some small village in Bulgaria if I'd have to put our soccer game on hold so those kids could yell at a couple of boys? Probably.
Ah, youth. I didn't appreciate it when it was mine though the idea of repeating it sounds like absolute torture.
Despite their antics, I really missed my kids. I've designated Monday's as game days, Tuesday's as sports days, and Wednesdays as excursion days so tomorrow we're off to hike in the local mountains. It'll just be me and a crap-load of kids hiking up a mountain I've never actually hiked. My goal is to bring back at least 90% of them. I feel like that's pretty reasonable. Wish me luck!
-Age
Friday, July 29, 2011
Culture Thursday
So, "Culture Thursday" didn't go quite as planned the first time around. I had planned to further my integration skills by chatting with a neighbor I hadn't visited in awhile and telling her about my desire to write about Bulgarian culture.
Her response, "Why would you want to do that?"
I told her I want Americans to know more about Bulgaria. Not just what goes on in the schools but about the life of a small town and what's it's like inside a Bulgarian home. I offered to help her with cooking and gardening and canning fruits and veggies for the winter. She said that wasn't necessary or interesting and that she would simply give me the vegetables from the garden, the canned fruit she's making, and I could avoid all the ugly work involved.
As we were having this conversation, me trying hard to understand her rapid Bulgarian, there was a large, old, slightly rusted tub over a burning hot fire only a few feet away. Earlier that week, another one of our neighbors had brought her a large bag of pears from the tree in their yard and this tub was now full of jars and the jars were full of pear slices, water, and sugar. After boiling the jars for ten minutes they are then stored away for the winter. A cheap way to still enjoy fruit when there's snow everywhere, fruit is scarce, and the fruits the stores are carrying are very expensive. It's pretty smart though, according to her, ugly work.
She didn't understand my desire to learn about these practices because, to her, they aren't interesting or enjoyable. Basically, they suck.
I may have to rethink my tactics here.
I did find out that yesterday our church had a holiday to celebrate its name. And, because it was a Wednesday and you can't eat meat on a Wednesday (still not sure exactly why), they made bean soup and everyone went to buy a bowl (1 lev) and ate for good health and happiness. I knew nothing of this celebration until it was well over so I can't give a firsthand account though that's exactly the kind of thing I want to write about. I'll have to ask on a regular basis what's going on in my town in order to stay informed.
That's the thing about Bulgarians, for whatever reason they all assume that we Americans know exactly what's going on without actually ever telling us what's going on.
There's a half-day at school today? Who knew?
Today's is So-And-So's name day and we were all supposed to go to the cafe and celebrate? News to me.
There was a teacher's meeting yesterday at 5:00? Well, oops.
It takes a lot of effort to remain sufficiantly, even moderately, informed. I'll do my best so next week I'll have a real story for you. And pictures. A story should have pictures, it'll make it so much more real.
Don't give up on me just yet - I promise to make this a learning experience worth reading about.
-Age
Her response, "Why would you want to do that?"
I told her I want Americans to know more about Bulgaria. Not just what goes on in the schools but about the life of a small town and what's it's like inside a Bulgarian home. I offered to help her with cooking and gardening and canning fruits and veggies for the winter. She said that wasn't necessary or interesting and that she would simply give me the vegetables from the garden, the canned fruit she's making, and I could avoid all the ugly work involved.
As we were having this conversation, me trying hard to understand her rapid Bulgarian, there was a large, old, slightly rusted tub over a burning hot fire only a few feet away. Earlier that week, another one of our neighbors had brought her a large bag of pears from the tree in their yard and this tub was now full of jars and the jars were full of pear slices, water, and sugar. After boiling the jars for ten minutes they are then stored away for the winter. A cheap way to still enjoy fruit when there's snow everywhere, fruit is scarce, and the fruits the stores are carrying are very expensive. It's pretty smart though, according to her, ugly work.
She didn't understand my desire to learn about these practices because, to her, they aren't interesting or enjoyable. Basically, they suck.
I may have to rethink my tactics here.
I did find out that yesterday our church had a holiday to celebrate its name. And, because it was a Wednesday and you can't eat meat on a Wednesday (still not sure exactly why), they made bean soup and everyone went to buy a bowl (1 lev) and ate for good health and happiness. I knew nothing of this celebration until it was well over so I can't give a firsthand account though that's exactly the kind of thing I want to write about. I'll have to ask on a regular basis what's going on in my town in order to stay informed.
That's the thing about Bulgarians, for whatever reason they all assume that we Americans know exactly what's going on without actually ever telling us what's going on.
There's a half-day at school today? Who knew?
Today's is So-And-So's name day and we were all supposed to go to the cafe and celebrate? News to me.
There was a teacher's meeting yesterday at 5:00? Well, oops.
It takes a lot of effort to remain sufficiantly, even moderately, informed. I'll do my best so next week I'll have a real story for you. And pictures. A story should have pictures, it'll make it so much more real.
Don't give up on me just yet - I promise to make this a learning experience worth reading about.
-Age
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Giving Chickens a Heads-Up
I've always highly valued humor. It's a commodity that's wide-spread, easily produced, and comes in a variety of forms. You may not share someone's particular "sense of humor" but pretty much everyone has one and uses it to: create a little happiness, impress, lighten the mood, make a living, or, most genuinely, make people laugh. The hopelessly flawed are always redeemable in humor, at least that's what I tell myself.
According to an excerpt I literally just googled from a book entitled The Sense of Humor: Self and Laughter in Modern America, the phrase "sense of humor" has only been around since the mid-1800's, when it was first considered to be valued in modern society. The idea that humor was a valuable asset, a characteristic that held high esteem on the social ladder, was first started in America, naturally, and has been a part of our culture ever sense. Before then, it was stories and fables that held the humor and there was a time and place for laughter. Anyone able to read or remember one of these fables was capable of making others laugh but the idea of having a funny-bone all your own that might just be funnier than anyone else's is a relatively new concept.
I got all of this from one measly paragraph that summed up this book I have no intention of reading so most of it is complete bull**** but it's usually safe to assume I'm right. I'm almost always right. And that's the truth.
I place a lot of importance on sitcoms. Too much. Like, it's unreasonable really how important I find them. I feel like the quality of my life would significantly decrease if, for whatever reason, some new type of social reform banned all sitcoms and satirically-based television probably because those bastards in the White House didn't like being made fun of so much by people like Amy Poehler, Tina Fey, and Fred Armisen!
I'm not apologizing for that rant either. The banning of sitcoms would be worse than prohibition. Bootlegged copies of Arrested Development would so be hidden under my bed, It's Always Sunny would be in my freezer, and The Office, Parks and Rec, and Modern Family would be under the floorboards...or somewhere much sneakier now that I've given away my hiding spots.
I just really like funny things.
The point of all this was to explain that recently I've felt like I've lost some of my "sense of humor". I used to write about funny things related to American culture (without really realizing that's what I was doing) but since I've been in Bulgaria so long that's not really relevant and those types of things no longer come to mind. And I can't make fun of Bulgarian culture cuz that just seems super wrong somehow and, mostly, I might get in trouble. Plus, then it would only be funny to other PCV's and you guys probably wouldn't get it at all and think I had gone mad. Which is fair.
I think I can still make people laugh pretty well in person, but not being funny in writing makes me sad. Which is why I've come up with an idea to make this blog what it really should be - me relating my experience here, to you over there. I've come up with "Culture Thursdays" in which I write about something new/interesting I've learned about/experienced and share it with you here. I'm trying to get the word out to friends and colleagues here in my town so they'll invite me to, I don't know, can stuff or cut off a chicken's head!
I don't want to cut off a chicken's head. I don't even want to watch that happen. Maybe I'll just stick to feeding the chickens who still have heads (whispering to them secretly that they better watch out for their heads cuz people like to cut them off - I bet most chickens don't know this and will be super grateful for the heads up - pun intended).
Anyway, knowing me, I'll probably always be late with the "Thursday" theme but I'll do my best. You all already know that I'm always late for everything. I pretend it's an endearing quality that makes people go, "Oh, that Adrienne, always late. Isn't she just the cutest!?" instead of, "Damnit, where's Adrienne! She's always M-F***ing late that s***** h** b**!"
Please don't call me a s***** h** b**, thanks.
-Age
According to an excerpt I literally just googled from a book entitled The Sense of Humor: Self and Laughter in Modern America, the phrase "sense of humor" has only been around since the mid-1800's, when it was first considered to be valued in modern society. The idea that humor was a valuable asset, a characteristic that held high esteem on the social ladder, was first started in America, naturally, and has been a part of our culture ever sense. Before then, it was stories and fables that held the humor and there was a time and place for laughter. Anyone able to read or remember one of these fables was capable of making others laugh but the idea of having a funny-bone all your own that might just be funnier than anyone else's is a relatively new concept.
I got all of this from one measly paragraph that summed up this book I have no intention of reading so most of it is complete bull**** but it's usually safe to assume I'm right. I'm almost always right. And that's the truth.
I place a lot of importance on sitcoms. Too much. Like, it's unreasonable really how important I find them. I feel like the quality of my life would significantly decrease if, for whatever reason, some new type of social reform banned all sitcoms and satirically-based television probably because those bastards in the White House didn't like being made fun of so much by people like Amy Poehler, Tina Fey, and Fred Armisen!
I'm not apologizing for that rant either. The banning of sitcoms would be worse than prohibition. Bootlegged copies of Arrested Development would so be hidden under my bed, It's Always Sunny would be in my freezer, and The Office, Parks and Rec, and Modern Family would be under the floorboards...or somewhere much sneakier now that I've given away my hiding spots.
I just really like funny things.
The point of all this was to explain that recently I've felt like I've lost some of my "sense of humor". I used to write about funny things related to American culture (without really realizing that's what I was doing) but since I've been in Bulgaria so long that's not really relevant and those types of things no longer come to mind. And I can't make fun of Bulgarian culture cuz that just seems super wrong somehow and, mostly, I might get in trouble. Plus, then it would only be funny to other PCV's and you guys probably wouldn't get it at all and think I had gone mad. Which is fair.
I think I can still make people laugh pretty well in person, but not being funny in writing makes me sad. Which is why I've come up with an idea to make this blog what it really should be - me relating my experience here, to you over there. I've come up with "Culture Thursdays" in which I write about something new/interesting I've learned about/experienced and share it with you here. I'm trying to get the word out to friends and colleagues here in my town so they'll invite me to, I don't know, can stuff or cut off a chicken's head!
I don't want to cut off a chicken's head. I don't even want to watch that happen. Maybe I'll just stick to feeding the chickens who still have heads (whispering to them secretly that they better watch out for their heads cuz people like to cut them off - I bet most chickens don't know this and will be super grateful for the heads up - pun intended).
Anyway, knowing me, I'll probably always be late with the "Thursday" theme but I'll do my best. You all already know that I'm always late for everything. I pretend it's an endearing quality that makes people go, "Oh, that Adrienne, always late. Isn't she just the cutest!?" instead of, "Damnit, where's Adrienne! She's always M-F***ing late that s***** h** b**!"
Please don't call me a s***** h** b**, thanks.
-Age
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Know Me
I don't know if it's my inherent narcissism that drives this long-going obsession but I've been fascinated with the Myers-Briggs "Know Me" personality tests for some time. Ever sense it was sent to me in email form from a friend and I found out which of the 16 possible personality types basically sums me up to a tee (I don't really understand the phrase "to a tee" - not sure if it's referring to a golf tee, the letter "t", or tea, like the kind you drink. I went for “tee”, obviously, and I'm gonna hope that's accurate. Frankly, I doubt you know either).
My personality type is an INFP and is entitled "The Idealist". There are detailed paragraphs explaining the way I think and feel and my perspective of the world. It tells me the ways I may be misunderstood as well as the ways I misunderstand others simply because our thought processes differ. I'm told which jobs I'm best suited for,who to marry, and what kind of mother I'll be in the future. It blows my effing mind.
Then, after discussing these personality types the other night with some friends while drinking beer and being devoured by Bulgarian mosquitoes I was sent a link (on my facebook of course) that lead me to a site full of information about my particular personality type and which famous people throughout history have shared my INFP status. The majority of them were philosophers and writers. Each persons’ name and picture also came with a quote. I read them all. And noticed a theme.
The majority of them seemed like people who were interested in the meaning of life. Interested in discussing it, reading about it, writing about it, and analyzing it from every possible angle but very few were able to come up with an answer. They were ponderers. They pondered. They spoke/wrote/berated people about it. I'm also pretty sure they were all narcissists as well. Makes sense. We ponder our own genius (whether or not it actually exists) and that leads us to firmly believe that we are, in fact, more interesting than everyone else. And then we write about it.
One of my friend’s personality types was given examples such as Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., and Ronald Reagan. Those people probably weren't narcissists. That's because one of their major traits is to be interested in people and the human condition and not themselves. I bet Mother Teresa falls under that list too, just to rub it in.
I'm not saying that all I do is think about myself. On the contrary, I'm always thinking of ways to better myself, to encourage others to see and act upon the best in themselves. It's this "idealist" nature that forces me to never except the reality and to always push for something more, something better. We're all capable of so much, why not spend the rest of our lives trying to get as close to ideal as we can? For me, settling for mediocrity seems painful and pointless and frightening. For others, being average isn't even something they think or worry about. It's not a concern. Which is perfectly delightful because the world needs people like that to keep people like me from talking/writing too much and never getting anything done.
I highly recommend finding this book (or just googling it cuz that's way easier though you risk sullying the accuracy of your outcome ((if you see Einstein's face floating around on the screen or anything really silly like that I suggest not basing your entire personality on the information you read on that page))).
The book also, by percentage, shows the rarity (or commonness I suppose) of each personality type. The rarest type, or the type held by the fewest number of people, is “The Artist” and the second rarest type is mine. And, yes, I’m bragging. That means that there are only 30,000,000 other people in the world like me. I’m a real diamond in the rough, that’s what I am. A rare jewel of narcissism, disregard for reality, and self-deprecation.
-Age
My personality type is an INFP and is entitled "The Idealist". There are detailed paragraphs explaining the way I think and feel and my perspective of the world. It tells me the ways I may be misunderstood as well as the ways I misunderstand others simply because our thought processes differ. I'm told which jobs I'm best suited for,who to marry, and what kind of mother I'll be in the future. It blows my effing mind.
Then, after discussing these personality types the other night with some friends while drinking beer and being devoured by Bulgarian mosquitoes I was sent a link (on my facebook of course) that lead me to a site full of information about my particular personality type and which famous people throughout history have shared my INFP status. The majority of them were philosophers and writers. Each persons’ name and picture also came with a quote. I read them all. And noticed a theme.
The majority of them seemed like people who were interested in the meaning of life. Interested in discussing it, reading about it, writing about it, and analyzing it from every possible angle but very few were able to come up with an answer. They were ponderers. They pondered. They spoke/wrote/berated people about it. I'm also pretty sure they were all narcissists as well. Makes sense. We ponder our own genius (whether or not it actually exists) and that leads us to firmly believe that we are, in fact, more interesting than everyone else. And then we write about it.
One of my friend’s personality types was given examples such as Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., and Ronald Reagan. Those people probably weren't narcissists. That's because one of their major traits is to be interested in people and the human condition and not themselves. I bet Mother Teresa falls under that list too, just to rub it in.
I'm not saying that all I do is think about myself. On the contrary, I'm always thinking of ways to better myself, to encourage others to see and act upon the best in themselves. It's this "idealist" nature that forces me to never except the reality and to always push for something more, something better. We're all capable of so much, why not spend the rest of our lives trying to get as close to ideal as we can? For me, settling for mediocrity seems painful and pointless and frightening. For others, being average isn't even something they think or worry about. It's not a concern. Which is perfectly delightful because the world needs people like that to keep people like me from talking/writing too much and never getting anything done.
I highly recommend finding this book (or just googling it cuz that's way easier though you risk sullying the accuracy of your outcome ((if you see Einstein's face floating around on the screen or anything really silly like that I suggest not basing your entire personality on the information you read on that page))).
The book also, by percentage, shows the rarity (or commonness I suppose) of each personality type. The rarest type, or the type held by the fewest number of people, is “The Artist” and the second rarest type is mine. And, yes, I’m bragging. That means that there are only 30,000,000 other people in the world like me. I’m a real diamond in the rough, that’s what I am. A rare jewel of narcissism, disregard for reality, and self-deprecation.
-Age
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
It's Been Awhile
My vacation in America was pretty effing fantastic. The best part being that I got to see my friends and family again and remember why I love them SO MUCH! When I was sitting in the back seat with my two best friends in the front making jokes, being ridiculous, and cracking me up I couldn't help but tell them how much I missed them. My best friend, Amanda, who I've known since we were both 7 (something we brag about often) is more like a sister to me than anything else and I don't think anyone will understand me quite like she does. We're going to be little old ladies together - it's gonna be a blast. I also spent a lot of time with my mom who was a great sport and took me anywhere I wanted to go - we had a lot of fun, spent a lot of money, and ate some damn good food. It was fantastic to see everyone and to enjoy Cali once again.
I thought going home would be so strange. I thought I would get culture shock and freak out. Nope. It was as if I'd never left. And that's what everyone kept saying, "Adrienne, I feel like we were just doing this exact same thing last week. Freaky." What was most strange to me was how much I enjoyed being just another girl. I chatted up every person I came in contact with simply because I was just an American. I spoke English like everyone else, I looked like everyone else and no one would ever guess where I live or what I was doing. The anonymity was refreshing. I didn't expect that.
I returned to Bulgaria just in time to celebrate the 4th of July with two new volunteers who have just moved to towns so close to mine I could cry. I've always been jealous of volunteers with site-mates and now I kinda have some. People to have coffee with when I just need to speak with an American. People to plan projects with, help with events, and collaborate. Should be great.
Then it was off to our Mid-Service Conference in a beautiful city named Tryavna. The town was amazing and getting to see everyone again was such a blast. In the past, I've always felt kinda overwhelmed when our entire group gets together cuz there are so many of us but this time wasn't like that at all. It was as if our group shrank and there were only a few people there that I didn't know well. Amazing what can happen in a year. The conference was inspiring and helped to give me the push I needed to really take this second year head-on. Also, after dinner on the last day, Tom planned a talent show for us all in the main hall of our hotel. It was awesome. People sang, danced, read original poetry, fought to the death, and joined together to end the show with an amazing combination of the songs "Friday" and "Baby" - sounds awful but it wasn't. It was great. I remember sitting there and thinking, "I'm always going to remember this. This is one of those moments." Bravo Tom!
Katelyn was the host of the talent show and did her own small performances in between each act until...she injured herself during an interpretive dance to "All By Myself." I can't make this up. She finished the song but then had to be lead away so her foot could be wrapped and iced, ready for an x-ray in Sofia the next morning. She didn't break anything but she gets to wear a cool boot for awhile. Injuries at these types of events end up making some of the best stories. Also, she finished hosting the show surprisingly enough, just with a bit of a limp and no more costume changes which is too bad cuz one of them was a hospital gown and I was really interested to know exactly how she planned to pull that off.
Now I'm back at my site and making plans. It feels good to be back and I realize I really miss my students. Well, most of my students. I have some integration plans that put me a bit out of my comfort zone (something we were all highly encouraged to do at the conference) so I'll keep you updated on how all that goes. Other than that, I hope to write something interesting or funny on my next post instead of this updating bull that you probably couldn't even finish reading. I'm back in the blogging mode and I like it. Ciao for now.
-Age
I thought going home would be so strange. I thought I would get culture shock and freak out. Nope. It was as if I'd never left. And that's what everyone kept saying, "Adrienne, I feel like we were just doing this exact same thing last week. Freaky." What was most strange to me was how much I enjoyed being just another girl. I chatted up every person I came in contact with simply because I was just an American. I spoke English like everyone else, I looked like everyone else and no one would ever guess where I live or what I was doing. The anonymity was refreshing. I didn't expect that.
I returned to Bulgaria just in time to celebrate the 4th of July with two new volunteers who have just moved to towns so close to mine I could cry. I've always been jealous of volunteers with site-mates and now I kinda have some. People to have coffee with when I just need to speak with an American. People to plan projects with, help with events, and collaborate. Should be great.
Then it was off to our Mid-Service Conference in a beautiful city named Tryavna. The town was amazing and getting to see everyone again was such a blast. In the past, I've always felt kinda overwhelmed when our entire group gets together cuz there are so many of us but this time wasn't like that at all. It was as if our group shrank and there were only a few people there that I didn't know well. Amazing what can happen in a year. The conference was inspiring and helped to give me the push I needed to really take this second year head-on. Also, after dinner on the last day, Tom planned a talent show for us all in the main hall of our hotel. It was awesome. People sang, danced, read original poetry, fought to the death, and joined together to end the show with an amazing combination of the songs "Friday" and "Baby" - sounds awful but it wasn't. It was great. I remember sitting there and thinking, "I'm always going to remember this. This is one of those moments." Bravo Tom!
Katelyn was the host of the talent show and did her own small performances in between each act until...she injured herself during an interpretive dance to "All By Myself." I can't make this up. She finished the song but then had to be lead away so her foot could be wrapped and iced, ready for an x-ray in Sofia the next morning. She didn't break anything but she gets to wear a cool boot for awhile. Injuries at these types of events end up making some of the best stories. Also, she finished hosting the show surprisingly enough, just with a bit of a limp and no more costume changes which is too bad cuz one of them was a hospital gown and I was really interested to know exactly how she planned to pull that off.
Now I'm back at my site and making plans. It feels good to be back and I realize I really miss my students. Well, most of my students. I have some integration plans that put me a bit out of my comfort zone (something we were all highly encouraged to do at the conference) so I'll keep you updated on how all that goes. Other than that, I hope to write something interesting or funny on my next post instead of this updating bull that you probably couldn't even finish reading. I'm back in the blogging mode and I like it. Ciao for now.
-Age
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