Скромен мечтател

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[flight001-blog-blog]

When’s the last time you’ve had afterglobe?

[opcion]

[litverve]

Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers. Let me keep company always with those who say “Look!” and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads.

Mary Oliver, from “Mysteries, Yes” in Evidence (via litverve)

[theworldismadeofwords]

I want to overhear passionate arguments about what we are and what we are doing and what we ought to do. I want to feel that art is an utterance made in good faith by one human being to another. I want to believe there are geniuses scheming to astonish the rest of us, just for the pleasure of it. I miss civilization, and I want it back.

Marilynne Robinson The Death of Adam: Essays on Modern Thought (via theworldismadeofwords)

[lauracuff]

It is so much easier for me to imagine a praying murderer, a praying prostitute, than a vain person praying. Nothing is so at odds with prayer as vanity.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

[lauracuff]

Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.

Leo Tolstoy

[lauracuff]

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

When was the last time you stopped to read this poem? I recently rediscovered it, and each time I read it, I love it a bit more. It so beautifully captures the continual, nomadic nature of life - constantly moving from place to place, stage to stage, emotion to emotion; the pauses between lending room for reflection, appreciation, and definition. 

It's the lifelong balancing act between motion and stillness, put to words. 

_

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

[lauracuff]

In the Bleak Midwinter

I doubt many of my readers follow Bulgarian news. I mean, I don't follow it much, but since returning from my stint in the Balkans, any headlines regarding Eastern Europe catch my eye a little more quickly. 

If you have been watching the Bulgarian headlines, lately, you'll know my old foe, Winter, has finally inspired a revolt of sorts: Remember how irritated I was that I had to pay more than $300 for heat that I never actually turned on in my apartment? (Had I turned on the heat, that winter, my bill would have been two or three times that.) Well, the rest of Bulgaria has finally had enough.

After mass protests against power companies charging exorbitant prices for heating and electricity, the Bulgarian government resigned. Media reported energy theft as an increasingly common crime in Sofia, Bulgaria's capital, and apparently, police don't see the movement as a high-priority problem. 

I'm not at all surprised.

Bulgarians are calling for government regulation of these companies, and after seeing my own heating bill that winter, I can hardly blame them. 

However, reading the comments on these energy-related articles, I realized that two years ago, I wouldn't have understood the issue at all. Readers from the UK and the US scorned the Eastern Europeans for protesting these issues, for demanding government intervention. I'd have been right there with the capitalists, resisting increased government regulations, believing that Bulgarians should just suck it up and call for competition before regulation. 

Seeing the country, however, and living within its frequently antiquated systems lent me compassion anew for the masses shivering in the shadow of their all-too-powerful government bureaucracies and industry monopolies.

I believe in capitalism, and in many ways, I still support a limited government. I think it's worked well, so far, for the United States. But as for implementing a similar set-up in Bulgaria, years of on-paper success in the country's relatively harmonious transition to Democracy stand in opposition to its still deplorable status in issues like this energy debacle. 

I'm not saying Bulgaria should retreat to its socialist past to reform its present. I'm just saying, it's easier said than done. And westerners might do well to remember that while we've lived in democratic and largely capitalistic societies for centuries, now, countries still struggling through the transition will be better served with constructive empathy than condescension.

No one form of government will best serve every culture and people. I don't know how Bulgaria needs to fix this energy crisis. What I do know, is that we all can benefit from looking beyond the numbers and policies to see the people impacted by the situation. When you see the protestors' families, bundled against the tendrils of winter chill creeping through their poorly insulated homes, unable to pay for the heat needed to warm their children, can you still call them freeloading malcontents? 

[lauracuff]

My newest restaurant obsession in Athens: Viva! The Argentinian food is unbelievable, and the cupcakes are even better. Not to mention - everything on the menu is shockingly affordable! 

My first visit to Viva was in celebration of International Women's Day, a couple weekends ago. Cupcakes presented the perfect way to mark the occasion. When I told my friend I wanted to go out for dinner for International Women's Day, she thought I was making up an excuse to go out. I explained, International Women's Day is a much bigger deal abroad [apparently] than it is, here in the States. In Bulgaria, for instance, all the women received flowers and/or gifts on that day. We, Americans, need to jump on that bandwagon. 

And, why not? Everybody should be celebrated, sometime. I'm only too happy to capitalize on a holiday that allows me to munch on cupcakes.

[lauracuff]

If you're going through Hell, keep going.

Winston Churchill

[petrichour]

Yet, I didn’t understand that she was intentionally disguising her feelings with sarcasm; that was usually the last resort of people who are timid and chaste of heart, whose souls have been coarsely and impudently invaded; and who, until the last moment, refuse to yield out of pride and are afraid to express their own feelings to you.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from Underground (via petrichour)

[lauracuff]

Power lunch: Cinnamon oatmeal, topped with a sliced banana, sprinkled with sliced almonds and walnuts, with two scoops of unsweetened Greek yogurt. Soooo good.

[lauracuff]

So it rained all day, today, but somehow, it still managed to be blindingly sunny for several minutes - while it was still raining!

_

Georgia, I don't understand. At all.

Sincerely, Soggy Texan

[lauracuff]

Zombies, baseball, and graduate school

Distraught, I scurried from eave to awning, crossing the unavoidable bare patches of sidewalk as nonchalantly as possible, shying from eye-contact at all costs. I felt the sting of tears welling up in my already-puffy eyes, as I strove to make myself invisible.

"If I can just get to my car," I thought, "Do not panic; do not panic."

The hordes surrounding me seemed to take little notice, I wove discretely between people, staring mindlessly at the bus stop, trudging along the sidewalk, moaning to their companions - or anyone in particular who happened to be passing by. I dared not pause, lest one of them take notice.

Stumbling towards my car, I fumbled frantically for the keys buried in the bottom of my satchel. Finally reaching sanctuary, I launched myself into the driver's seat, slamming and locking the door behind me before burying my face in my hands. 

Y'all, I'm not much of a fiction writer, and this wasn't a zombie apocalypse. Welcome to another day of grad school. 

Now might be a good time to reiterate: This is a personal blog, the opinions communicated here are mine, and mine alone, and do not reflect the viewpoints of my employer. 

The idea of a zombie apocalypse has grown pretty trendy lately, with countless movies and AMC's hit television series, "The Walking Dead," exploring the possible outcome of a land infected with undead. And with media reporting multiple instances of bath-salts-induced cannibalism, some people are wondering how far removed these Hollywood projections may be from real life.

All that is a big, fancy way to say: College kids everywhere are asking each other, "Could you survive a zombie apocalypse?"

Earlier this semester, some of my newfound friends here in Georgia participated in just such a conversation. The consensus in the room was that none boasted trustworthy, loyal enough friends that, in the event of a zombie apocalypse, those friends would be willing to die for each other. 

Honestly, I sat there kind of puzzled. I know I'm an odd bird, but I really do think that not just one or two, but several of my friends would risk their lives for me, in the event of a crisis - just as I would for them. 

The last year-and-a-half has brought challenges I never expected. My winter in Bulgaria was one of the loneliest seasons I've ever known, and grad school has been an...adjustment. But through it all, I've been astounded by the willingness of my friends to call, write, chat, and pray for me. They've housed me, fed me, stayed up all night to help me with homework, and - sometimes most difficult of all - listened to me. One friend even gave me a stuffed animal, when I missed the one I'd left at home for safekeeping. (Yeah, I know: I'm basically an adult, and I still adore "comfort" objects. Life is hard, y'all - don't judge.)

For every adversary - whether inanimate or inhumane in nature - my support network stepped up to usher me through. 

I've been reminded that people are the most simultaneously, wondrously kind and cruel components of this world. And the more our kindness staggers me, the more grievous the cruelty seems. 

And that's just what we do to each other.

We're beings of extremes, living in a world of extremes. 

Frequently, when I've had a bad day, I remember the old quotation, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." I wonder if the exhaustion, stress, or grief shadow my eyes, if my peers can see through my faltering smile. I wonder what secret pains they're hiding behind their own masks of normalcy. 

Whether it's a passing annoyance, an utterly hellish week of grad school, or one of the multitudes of "even worse" (because I'll be the first to admit, my worst days probably look like a cake walk to some people), we all need a friend, just to get through, now and then. 

So let's not wait for that zombie apocalypse, because frankly, I can't have another week like the last. So here, I utter my admittedly idealistic (though no less desperate) entreaty: Be kind.

No man is an island - or in more modern terms: Life is a TEAM sport.

It's high time we started playing like one. 

[lauracuff]

My required reading for ONE of my classes this spring. Coffee mug provided for perspective. Also, irony.

In May, if you find me sitting on the floor in a corner, holding my knees and rocking while muttering in incoherent Bulgarian, this may be a big part of the reason why.

Holy parakeets.

[lauracuff]

Lunch at Mama’s Boy. Biscuit with corned beef and hash, topped with poached eggs and hollandaise sauce. Not a bad way to kick off the semester. Gotta love Southern food.

[lauracuff]

Apartment Living

Technically, I’ve been living the apartment-style dream for several years, now. But my first “apartment” was technically part of a dorm. Since I never had to pay rent or water and electricity bills, I don’t count that one. (Although, I did have to hack some residents out of iced-over rooms, once. I think I should get points for that one.)

My apartment in Bulgaria was my first-ever true apartment experience. And boy, was that an adventure.

My walls were so thin (or poorly insulated) that I could hear entire conversations happening in the apartment next door or in the stairwell, no matter my location in my own apartment. It took me days to realize that I was hearing my neighbors go to work every morning - and not a crew of home invaders. Until then, I was afraid to open my bedroom door before midmorning, when the intruding forces seemed to abate.

Doors to the outside randomly opened. I’m not entirely sure if this was happening all year, or just during the winter, but I sure didn’t notice until winter. You know, when the ground bore 3 feet of snow, and my apartment was cold enough to freeze Oprah’s philanthropic heart. Then, it was kind of an inconvenience.

Perhaps most awkwardly, however, was sharing the space with my landlord’s stuff. He wasn’t living there anymore…I’m pretty sure. But a TON of his stuff still was, including his winter wardrobe, a collection of naked-lady calendars, and a photograph of his great grandmother, who looked a lot like him. I didn’t much use the room that housed her portrait - I always felt like she was watching me. (Although, I couldn’t escape these guys, who watched me every night while I slept.)

My apartment in Georgia, fortunately, came already empty. It is now full of my belongings, and only my belongings.

Oh, and I no longer sleep on a carpet-covered mattress! (Thank sweet, merciful heavens.)

I only hear my neighbors when I happen to be awake already, and they’re rip-roaring drunk. Otherwise, I sleep through everything, so I don’t mind. (I’m mildly convinced that sleeping is one of my spiritual gifts: I once slept through a tornado, back in Abilene, and my other sleep-related talents have earned me quite the reputation.)

My doors stay soundly locked and shut, unless I open them myself.

And the only art adorning my walls is art I chose, myself.

Overall, I feel much more at home in my new Georgia apartment than I ever did in my Bulgarian abode. However, there remain some…shall we say, quirks? of apartment living that haven’t characterized my previous living arrangements.

Cockroaches. I don’t know if this is a Georgia thing, or a my-apartment-complex thing, or a global warming thing, or what. But these buggers like to show up in twos and threes every couple of months. They usually surprise me, already dead, just chilling in my bathtub. And personally, I think finding them when I’m about to shower is somehow the WORST.

Maintenance. I’m a do-it-myself kinda gal - or do it not at all. I’d much rather fix the kinks in my apartment on my own than call maintenance to do it. I hate to bother them, and it’s weird to think that they might stop by when I’m not home. (I know, I’m paranoid.) The result is that sometimes things go wrong, and I don’t report them for an absurdly long time. For example, in an act of sheer stupidity, I once failed to report a spontaneously crackling outlet for at least 24 hours, hoping the problem would just go away. It did not.

Along a similar vein, sometimes my water is brown. I have no idea why. And no, I haven’t yet reported it to maintenance.

(Yeah, I’m beginning to see a pattern, here.)

All that said, I’m slowly acquiring enough furniture that I no longer have to use old boxes as tables. My neighbor has taken my trash out for me at least twice, so I think we’re friends (either that, or he hates me for leaving the bags outside my front door overnight to grab on my way out, in the morning…). And I have a heater, a real heater with a functioning thermostat, which is quite an upgrade.

This is apartment living at its finest, y’all.

It’s not the Ritz, but it’s warm, and it’s mine. And if you don’t mind, it’s getting a little late, and I have a mattress that isn’t upholstered in outdoor carpeting, calling my name.