She basically stole my idea. Actually, she steals most of my ideas. Like when I saw her hair I was like whoa, that’s totally the hair I was going to think about having soon. She wrote, like, the most hilarious three-line story accompanied by a watercolor she painted and scanned and posted along with the story. I just sat with my mouth open looking at the post that I could’ve written if she hadn’t first.

I had a friend tell me once about he fooled around with his childhood best friend and after all the years of build up it was just okay. I feel like that’s my life. So much build up but so much ending up being just okay. Except his walk of shame home at 5a.m. is my eating SpeghettiO’s from Trader Joe’s on a Saturday night.

My mom is always like “Suzanna, Suze, you need to take some time for yourself. Don’t stress so much! Get laid!” She is always trying to embarrass me or be my best friend or something. If only she knew that all I do is take time for myself. I sit in my chair or lay in my bed and twirl my hair as I think about all the things I am going to do after I take this time for myself. My perpetual non-stop study/work/coffee/cigarette break. I think my mom would probably turn into the mom she was when I was growing up if she saw me, the mom that would tell me to “get off my ass and stop being such a JAP because the house is not going to clean itself and oops looks like I didn’t pay her rent this month so get up.” Now that I actually do pay rent elsewhere and she doesn’t get to see my unending procrastination she assumes that when I’m not interested in talking to her it’s because I am just so overworked and overtired that I really, really should relax. I could also get laid I guess. That would be nice time to time.

Anyways, I’m totally just in a funk. I have all of these ideas that are going to be awesome. I’m just so busy with all this other bullshit I have to do that I am just so uninspired. My stuff is pretty much going to blow people’s minds though. Like when my college boyfriend and I collaborated on a song together and the melody I played on an electric toy piano to offset the beat on his drum-machine totally blew his mind. Except for he was such a dick. He was jealous or something that I didn’t even play in cool bands like he did and my shit was already so much better than his. He recorded the song that day but never got around to letting me hear it afterwards. I still have never heard it but I know it was sweet.

Whatever. She can have her funny blog posts that she writes. I’m over here doing important shit even if I’m totally hating doing it. It’s only a “for now” set up. It’s temporary. While she can have the internet and her stupid art and so cute shoes, I’ll be here effortlessly awesome and hilarious with my genius ideas that are going to kill it all someday.

Guys, listen. It's so much better now. Really really.

For one, Roxanne is here. Roxanne. Oh this dog. She makes my life. I don't know what I did without her. Abroad it was like, oh, I'm in another country, of course she's not here. But last year? Why wasn't she here to cuddle with me when I should be studying, to nuzzle my neck when we're sharing a pillow, to make me laugh when she tries to run but the floor is too slick so she cartoon-style runs in place? No matter the reasons to why she wasn't with me, she's here now and life is wonderful.

School is better. It's busier, which is good, and it's less headache and heartache than last year was. Sure, there's the looming stress of FINDING A JOB FOR MY LIFE but that's always there. The other stuff has sort of slid off the sides (the other stuff being other people's stress infiltrating my own anxieties and perceptions of myself.) This year I'm sort of flying solo like I always have and am feeling more or less good bout my decisions and performance. (Though, y'know, could always get in gear just a teeny bit more.)

We are within weeks of A moving here. WEEKS. Not so long ago we were talking year plus, then months. Now we're down to within just some weeks and he and I will be in the same city!! It's hard to not drop everything JUST to think about how bliss life will be when we can finally be together. This town's gonna get pregs.

Oh, what's that sound? My roommate just got home. This one is the best a girl can get in this city. She's chill as fuck, super nice, super neutral, clean, and doesn't bring home strangers from the internet. She's hardly home since she's so studious and when she is we talk about Mad Men, our dogs, and I dunno, food? It's fine. Totally fine. Normal. Good.

My place is alright; my bedroom is amazing, I project movies onto my living room wall, and my kitchen is now officially super cute with the Alphonse Mucha print that A got for us at a Berlin flea market finally framed and on the wall. So in love.

That's about it. This plate of Brie isn't looking as appetizing as it did an hour ago and this paper ain't writing itself. So. Roxanne and I are off to do more Sunday activities until we can lay in bed together again like we love to do.

- Threw a medium cockroach out the window. Peace out to this place.

- There are some crazy and gigantic green-beans on the Food Network tonight.

- Have been sitting in the same position for a week writing the same paper. Exhausted. Need exercise.

- Missing A as usual.

- Oh, they're fava beans.

- Next week, assuming there will not be too much family stuff going on (who can assume anything?) I will ride my bike, exercise, and read more Balzac.

This year was a total bust. A year ago today I was in Greece with A on our practice honeymoon. We were only together for a couple months at that point. We were still getting to know each other. Still figuring each other out. We were totally in love and we still are. I was so happy on that trip although some things did get in the way including my crazy allergic reaction that made me blind for a day (but also made me fall more in love with A because he took such good care of me), a couple breakdowns between us that were still new relationship kinks to work out, and my waiting to hear back from the law school waitlists I was on. A year ago.

Law school and everything related has been the most miserable aspects of my life in recent years. From the horrendous bullshit that was the LSAT test to the admissions process to finishing my first year. I bombed law school. I tried my best and did my personal worst. It just made me wonder about my persistence to get into law schools that were way above what I was capable of doing. What was I thinking? Did I believe I'd get there and snap into academic excellence? That was hardly the case this year and though I've never been the best academically, it doesn't stop stinging at this level of education. At least in high school I never cared, but here, in law school, I do, or did care, so it really hurt.

I also forgot about my own personal philosophy about coming to NY. I truly believed that the only reason for being at a school notoriously competitive and just barely rubbing elbows with the ivory tower ivy leagues is for the connections. I came here because I felt I could at very least do that. I cannot say I've had a million opportunities, but I really cannot ignore the connections that I have made. When I say connections I do not mean oh I'm such a networker. I mean emotional connections with people who have really helped me think about this career realistically. The internship I'm working this summer is so unbelievably lucky that I will not say one more word about it for fear of being jinxed. I did not get the grades I wanted, it has been miserable being there, and none of the material awoke any strong emotions within me. But the relationships I have begun to make and our conversations keep me inspired, hopeful, and optimistic that I'm not making a mistake being here. I still believe I can do this and it won't be in the way the school makes seem is the way to do it. I will do it MY way, Amy-style, somehow.

This year has also been dumb in terms of moving to NY. On the friend front it's been fine, I'm lucky to have folks in the neighborhood. Yet I'm still itching to branch out and get over this first-year hump of running around like a headless chicken and hitting walls. My living situation was retarded. I lived fine in my apartment as a place, but now it's safe to say my roommate stressed my shit out more than anyone at Hiscock House ever could've. For each time I would think oh she's not so bad, I may even write in my blog that I like her, she said something funny yesterday I guess she's alright, she would totally pull some shit that would make living here almost unbearable. I won't get into details because it is the internet after all plus no one likes hearing lame roommate stories. So when she wanted to raise my rent I decided there would be no fucking way in hell that I would pay more to live with a hot mess. My life has been shit this year in so many ways, the more garbage I can take out the better my sanity. This trash is not something I will pay a cent more to live in or with. I loved my place because of its quirkiness, age, moldings, but there's no denying it is a shit-hole that needs a lot of work and no denying that she lacks the people skills I require of a person if I'm to be forced to interact with them. So I'm moving. I found a new place already but before I write more about it I want to make sure everything works out and I find a new roommate to live with there that will at very least be a neutral normal and at very most be awesome. Roxanne might even be coming to this new place too.

I also lost the small-claims case to the Jiu Jitsu place. It was only appropriate seeing that I've been losing at everything this year. It's not the money at this point it's the principle that this business is run by douche bags and I'm annoyed I couldn't prove my point.

Finally, family stuff is making me face life realities again. Health and mortality and whatnot. I think what my family is really going to need in not too long is for some babies to be born. I don't know if I'll necessarily be contributing to that right away, but we really do need some happiness up in this bitch and soon.

Fuck this year, the 2009-2010 school year. I'm over it. Summer is here and I'm making all the changes I've been writing about lately. No more sads.

There was a little monster waiting in my window today. The monster was just chilling in the open window, one leg hanging off the ledge into my room. When I walked into my room and saw the little monster it didn't alarm me or scare me, it was as if just belonged there. Like of course a monster chills in the windowsill, where else?

Monster got bored while I was working on my computer. It complained it was too hot because today was soo hot outside. I told monster it could sit on my desk where the fan was blowing. It fell asleep on my desk under the fan's breeze and I finished my work.

This evening I was feeling a little sad and lonely even though there was a little monster around. I decided to do what I always do when I'm procrastinating working on and thinking about life: I tried on outfits.

Monster oo'd and ahh'd at the right moments. Usually I like a soundtrack to my moves, like a sassy fashion show, but monster's audible approval worked too. Monster helped me pick out what to wear for tomorrow, brushed its pointy monster teeth next to me while I brushed my human teeth, and then turned my bedroom light off so I could go to sleep.

I said goodnight and right then the little monster jumped into my bed, grabbed me by my shoulders, and swallowed me whole.

I have two internships this summer. Two! I'm really excited about both of them. However, today, June 1, neither boss has called to give me any assignment or work. So I will take this as a positive sign that I am to enjoy this first day of Amy summer and not worry. Off to bike ride to the gym. That is what I shall do.

In the meantime I want you to think about how great the custom handmade sandals I just ordered off of Etsy.com will be on me. Two pairs.

Life is wonderful. LIFE and LIVING and EVERYTHING is wonderful. I have to make sure I write down all the wonderful things that have happened this week so that I cannot forget that really, overall, everything is wonderful. I am constantly on the verge of tears- happy tears over the strength and love of my family, nervous tears over uncertainty of the type of person I am these days, and sad tears because I truly miss some key people in my life with my grandfather and A at the top of that list. However, I am taking a stand against my crying self. Keep it together, Amy. What's even the matter? Why with the sads? It's so time to be happy- nothing is bad, scary, forever (except diamonds and cockroaches, what.)

Also, I now refuse to be a hater because I am SUCH a hater, and it is unbecoming for one. For two, the rude awakening of the weekend is, it really, so really does not help. I am happy- I am lucky- I love and I am loved and I am really, truly living life. No hating.

Happiness to note: Pedicure lady complimenting me on my so small so cute feet. Sincere surprise at how small my feets are. (Me embracing being the little lady that I am.)

Concert. Concert? Well, not not a concert. Here's the thing. I was emotional because I am a tigress let out of my cage, my comforting, yet so damn confining cage which is life of studying, routine, and consciousness of others' successes v. my successes/others' flaws v. mine. So I was out. This already made me feel alive. But then words. A lot of the lyrics of this concert (concert?) were poignant. Yea. But at the same time it wasn't fair! I was -we all were!- totally caught off guard and then forced to really feel it through. I allowed myself to feel it but I felt a little angered, pressured to give it up to be seen. I felt free to be out, alive, listening to great songs, but at the same time a little violated because these emotions are mine. Always mine. Untapped thoughts and fears and whatever are for me to decide who may tap into. But the songs and the performance so ached to trigger me -us- that it was just too much, draining, yet -yet!- reassuring and fun. It was a happy evening with pretty much my most favorite people (I think of all time) together (except for my most desired person was NOT there- which made the whole thing seem moot in a way) and so it was, I guess to sum it up, it was stabilizing.

Making delicious breakfast for and with friends and my friends relaxing in my space. There is nothing greater nor more satisfying. No stronger force-field of love than that which radiated this morning. I felt high.

People are awesome! PEOPLE just want other people to be awesome. There is no reason anyone should be such a hater. I picked up a school assignment this evening amongst my other classmates and people were all negative and sad and nervous and generally grumpy. Why? Life is beautiful. Summer is here/around the corner and no more teachers no more school books, right guys? RELAX. Just do your work and hang out. Life is great. Stop grumbling, everything will be great!

At this point I wish I knew a little more HTML, or had the energy to check how to because I feel like outlining this next part to show an example of what I mean above. So imagine here is the first indented bullet point in the order that I remember:

Best conversation about gum with the girl who rang me up at Duane Reed. She knew what I was talking- can't I just get some straight up normal wintergreen? Why and when did gum get so complicated? I absolutely DO NOT WANT pina colada gum (or pina colada anything.) I don't need "exotic mint." What? That doesn't even make sense! Mint grows wild in almost any type of soil. Exotic? Shut up. Or any of the other stupid flavors. The girl said she likes trident "minty sweet twist" and it tastes like the best, lasts long, doesn't get weird tasty, etc. So I yelled "sold!" and she made me try it in front of her just to see if I'd like it. I did! It was totally what I meant- can I just get some gum and why with all the stupid names and packaging? She and I agreed it was a successful night for the both of us as I enjoyed the gum. Gum industry, or whoever you crazies are, CHILL. Take a chill pill. Gum, right? Don't mess up an easy thing. Wintergreen, peppermint, bubblegum; Totally sufficient. Trust.

Being out amongst the people. Friendship hand-holding. Bumping into someone which was so pleasant, even with the little daggers of unpleasantness throughout the conversation (the usual hearsay and status demotion- Amy stop being so sensitive! People just say stuff!) Laughing. Bike riding (still such a novice) and talking shit. Not hating, no I'm not hating anymore, but talking shit- because I'll never stop doing that. (It is my job.)

The concern of a person for my well-being and safety. Anytime that happens, in Moldova or in America, it is still flattering, appreciated, and noted.

The childlike nature of fun in a grownup space. Yeah, I said it. My space is grown up. So grownup, actually, that the limits of comfort are invisible because everything is here. Everything one would need to be comfortable, welcome, and at home, is in my space [as far as I'm concerned] and it was a pleasure to share. The feedback was that it was a pleasure to be in, so if that's not a justification for things being right in life then I don't know what in the world it is that I need to feel good. I FEEL GOOD. I recognize it now.

Guy holding spotted black pug in his arms. The pug had a pink cast with purple pictures on it on her arm. It was instant- all I did was say "Oh no!!" like what happened oh what did she do? He just looked at me so worried but also, like, he was relieved? Appreciative almost for the gesture- maybe it was what he needed to feel everything was going to be okay. The puppy will be okay- look at that pink cast! ohh noo puppy.. be more careful next time!

Walking roommate's dog who is so funny on a leash in that she doesn't get it? But she's not the boss. I'm a person and so I am the boss and so we're going outside and she's going to walk on that leash. A guy walking, nighttime walking, looks over at me, kind of cordial smile - I hold his gaze - and he says Hello or How are you or something like that and I just point down at the dog I'm with who hates her leash like can you believe this little thing? He says "oh! I didn't even see her!" I say "she doesn't even want to be out here right now. But it's beautiful!" He says, "yea, it really is." Today was supposed to be a rainy day- rain all day. Not once. No rain. It was beautiful and wonderful for an almost summer Sunday and I was going to get that little dog to understand that no matter how much she wanted to pull and resist that leash, everything is beautiful and let's go outside.

Other things but I really thought I'd be asleep by now. I just don't want to forget. I cannot forget how being happy always trumps being like annoying and angry and negative. I default to that too easily, and with this unbalanced position I've put myself in by making my decisions when and how I did, I'm the only one who can steady myself. Friends help. Friends definitely help. It hurts that my friends are far (but I guess I'm not one to talk hello Moldova) but I am happy that the love and contact still exists and I haven't lost myself. I am happy; life is wonderful. Do not forget it.

Hi!

Remember when I wrote last? Me neither.

I am studying for finals. That is obviously why I'm posting again. Let me fill everyone in on my life.

First of all, shit's awesome. No really, things are fine. I'm feeling in tune with myself again. I don't care about school which means I'm pretty confident I'll do well in school AND LIFE. I am in LO-oOVe. I exercise. I eat veggies all the time. I like my roommate. I like my apartment. I like my hair. I have some friendies and now my sister lives two hours away. Things are good.

Second of all, whatever to anything being an issue. Ever. I found that by returning to my Amy game-face way I've been a lot happier. I've cut things out of my life that were causing me stress. For one, I joined a Jiu Jitsu club that was a cult/scam. I say cult because it's very repetitive and they're into group chants and clapping for one another much longer than appropriate. They also made up an exclamatory word for us to use- it translates to "the" in Portuguese. So when someone did something good everyone would say "THE!" Weird. I loathed going there but had already paid and it was across the street. BUT so then I was being coaxed to sign another agreement for another 24 months for double the price, I quit that shit and demanded my money back since I was never told I was going to have to sign another agreement when I first joined. Otherwise I wouldn't have joined. Duh. Asking for my money back, they shaded out and avoided me and so now I'm taking them to small claims court. Or rather, as the letter I got in the mail today offers, I could very will be taking them to The People's Court. My mom really wants me to. So I cut that bullshit out of my life and instead I joined a normal gym that has spinning classes that are like a discotheque and televisions in front of the cardio machines (although the best entertainment is watching myself run the treadmill in the mirror. Tittayyys.)

I also cut out school stress by being more selective about who I study with or (not) studying with people at all. Sure, at home I may procrastinate, but shit gets done eventually and I feel better because I'm at my own pace and understand the material better. I feel more confident when I'm on my own wavelength instead of trying to keep up with someone else. Law school, getting in your head. That should be the slogan: Law School. Gettin' in your head.

I can't wait for this month of exams and writing competitions and other law school things that are keeping me indoors in nice weather to be over with. I have an internship this summer that is going to rock and all I want to do is ride bikes in the sunshine and read New Yorkers in the park. 30ish days to go.

My summer internship hunt. My lack of focus. Hours lost. Sleep too much or too little? My ponch. My privacy. My comfort. Productivity in absurd spurts. Companionship or lack of? My family. Life and death. Life, definitely life. Cleanliness maintenance. Law school as something I'm doing, not something I'm in. My aesthetic. My confidence, self-esteem, and accomplishments. Not failing in practice, not just theory. These are the things concerning me lately.

As the pipes heat the walls around me, it sounds like I live in an aquarium.

Ugh, I totally do live in an aquarium.

My hair is getting bigger again which is good.

My lips are chapped and I can't find my balm which is bad.

School starts up again tomorrow. I duncare. I dungive a fuck.

So this is kind of a big deal- it's not just a new year but a new decade. I didn't really think about it until I looked around the corners of the internet for a few minutes this morning and noticed everyone is mentioning the decade. The decade! The last time I began life in a new decade I was 15 years old. I may have wrote about it then, but surely that new decade was out-shined by the new millennium and I doubt I made revolutions about the new millennium. At 15 I probably only thought about the upcoming year, at most.

So now a new decade begins; I'm old enough to grasp what a decade means and what it should mean for plans. Folks who know me know I'm all about plans. Not the day to day plans really because I do enjoy being a lazy-ass and sometimes a procrastinator, but I'm all about the big plans. Two years, five years GO. I map out what my next two years should be like more or less, and then what the encompassing five years should maybe sort of look like, leaving room for flexibility. Moldova was my two years, then the three years of law school to follow was the five. Now I'm in law school, so the next two years is doing well and finishing school, the three years to follow is find work that I love and that pays me enough to buy thingz when I want to buy thingz. (Plus pay back scary, outrageous loans.)

Furthermore, the three years after law school are basically for figuring out what kind of grown-up I want to be. Where does this grown-up want to live? What sort of lifestyle will this grown-up have? What will make me the type of grown up I thought I might be when I was 15? As of right now, since I'm pretty much on the fast track to being a real-life grown-up, I think I will officially become one this decade. I'll truly be grown when I will be financially comfortable enough to live alone, around things I like and need, with my dog and/or with my husband whenever that may happen. I assume I will be married by 35, perhaps with kids, and that shall fully thrust me into grown-up-dom/hood/ness.

In the next five years I'm pretty much in career-track mode. However, I need to focus on my person. I need to be very much in life-track mode and that starts with the first year of the five, the first year of this decade, dearest 2010.

My Revolutions* for 2010

1. Do not lose sight of why I wanted to get into law school and what I'm doing there. As of today I still do not know [all of] my grades for the first semester, but regardless of whether they're great, mediocre, or disappointing, next semester is one which will be done flawlessly. I've gotten the hang of law school, know what works for me and what doesn't. I (now) know how to keep myself in line so I'm not hating the world come finals... and also not burning out which is always patiently lingering on the other side of that almost invisible line of keeping my shit together.

2. Don't let them get into my head. Just don't. They ain't got nothing on me and honestly. Just don't.

3. Talk less. I think this is a first time Amy revolution. I absolutely am a communicator. I need to talk things through. I need to talk with whoever might be in a similar world as me to reinforce my decisions, hear other opinions, feel superior, feel humbled. This year, really, the conversations should stay right here, with me.

4. Be grounded in myself. Not in someone else. Especially because that someone else may not be nearby or there when I might need them. So, Amy, need myself.

5. Routine. I got better at this by the end of 2009, but let's really plan and stick to a routine so I'm not hating life when I wake up.

6. Get out more. Perhaps as a part of above mentioned routine, but I really do need to start going out and doing things even if it is solo and I'm feeling sad or tired of being solo.

7. Don't be sad about being solo anything. I need to start embracing myself everything again. I can't depend on anyone else to bring me happiness and while I want people around me, love around me, relationships, I must love myself. I will keep myself centered so that I can love and be happy about all things. I can only do that for myself.

8. More action. Move move move. Sweat sweat sweat. Sweet sweet sweet.

9. Be nicer. In my head and on my lips. I just need to stop being such a hater all the time. Time to be a lover of mankind.

10. Cook. Moldova taught me how to cook for myself and New York told me I didn't need to. A little bit less buying prepared food and a little more therapy cooking in 2010.

11. See movies. Rent or go. I love the cinema and I don't know why I've ignored it since moving here.

12. Be the lady I always imagined I'd be. At 25, if not in 2010, then when?

A wise man once said, "if you wanna make the world a better place take a look at yourself and make that change." Truth.

*I know it's "resolutions," my new dear readers, but through diarylands and livejournals I've been marking these promises as revolutions for years. This year is no different.

A revolution or two is due at this point anyway.

I'm not understanding how I'm getting millions of Japanese spam comments on my blog lately. I'm moderating and so none are going through, but I'm getting a ton in my email daily. Sssstrange.

I'm in Miami. Actually, Hollywood, Florida. It's, um, Florida. But it's forcing me to be out of my element in a way that I can appreciate and so I'm a-gonna enjoy the week, try to keep posi.

Speaking of positive elements, annual New Years Revolutions coming up soon. Gotta focus and think about what I want 2010 to look like.

My last final is Monday. I'm anxious to get done although as I study the material for Monday I find I have to plead with myself to just get through it, we're almost there. The final stretch. I feel alright about my other two finals except for the occasional "shit I should've/shouldn't have wrote that" fears that creep into my mind as I try to move past the stress of those exams. Can't do anything about it now but wait for the grades to come and never uncross my fingers.

Today is the first snow of Brooklyn. So far it's pretty but still unimpressive. A storm was promised with up to 12 inches of snow. I guess it's still early, but I'm ready to see it come down and cover everything in my life. I want the snow to rid me of this first semester at school where my excitement about getting into law school rapidly faded into exhaustion from monotony and the choking amounts of material to digest. It felt like as I began to digest a topic another one was being forced down and spilled over until I swallowed it, taking bites at the spillover until that too was digested. Followed by another forced topic requiring digestion. It's kind of a disgusting way to think about how I feel about the pace of law school, but it's the only way I can describe it.

That's not to say that I couldn't keep up. I kept up fine, did my readings, participated in lectures. It's just that after Moldova where I could spend consecutive days laying around in my apartment as I worked from home, it was hard to adapt to my brain constantly being on the "on" position. I am very much looking forward to these next few weeks of vacation when I can press the snooze button on my brain for a bit and hopefully be refreshed for next semester.

As I return to studying for Monday, I listen to French electronica and, like always, watch the world outside my window. An older black woman in the best orange African-print coat carefully crosses the street. The employees at the Thai restaurant are outside taking photos in the snow. A kid with a sweet afro is walking quickly and holding bags of groceries; he looks cold.

I bought a box of clementines this morning. I walked home holding them while the snow fell around me. It wasn't so cold out yet. It was kind of magical.

Winter came too fast (again)

I NEED:

Boots

Trenchcoat

Pants

Scarf(z)

everything new as I have to stop looking like a shlep.

Give thanks babies! It is Thanksgiving time!

After hours of 'serious talks' last night, I now sit in my boyfriend's apartment studying (I'm taking a break shh) and watch him bake cookies through the mirror reflection (he has a wall of mirrors in this apartment. It's great?) He looks relaxed as he rolls the dough in his hands and I feel relaxed although I have a million trillion law school things I can/should/need to be doing.

It's so nice to be home in Detroit. It's a place I'm usually hating on so much, but it's like the further I am from this place the more excited about it I get. Kind of like when I was in Moldova- I LOVED America in Moldova. In New York, I LOVE Detroit. But it's not so much the city I'm caring about as I'm here. It's being with my family, being in this apartment with its mirrored wall, and knowing tonight's dinner is going to be bomb. Like, oh shit, we is gonna eat.

And to think, months ago, my mom asked if I really wanted to come home for Thanksgiving as if I might not. OF COURSE I want to be home for Thanksgiving, Mom, don't be cruel.

*This place has made my street smell like fried turkey for a week and I'm glad I'm missing the insane lines for pre-ordered Thanksgiving turkeys.

Across me on train: Little lady sat back all the way in her seat and her feet don't touch the ground. Even my feet touch the ground!! So little! Eeee

Observations from train: guy holding a smell capsul, inhaling it and praying? Talking to capsule? What does it smell like? Why on the train? His eyes are closed

On train observation: All the Chinese people got off at the Chinatown stop. I knew that would happen. Called it.

She's twenty-five years-old today. Good job hot pants, you did it.

Here's to hoping 25 will kick 24's ass. Lot's riding on 25. Go GO Go Go.

Nicole is in town this weekend. My cousin and I are similar in many ways- we look at the same things when we shop for things; where it's made, what material, cost to quality value analysis. We lucked out with the weather being a dream when we went to the flea market this morning. She got herself a coat, I got myself some some peace. I'm working on a big assignment for school right now. It's a little uninspiring, (hence this post) but it's being inspired by the fact that I'm seeing my mom and aunt tonight and my man next weekend. So it's going to be done by tomorrow to be edited next week.

Nikki is taking a nap and I just want to curl up next to her. It feels really natural having her here. Where my sister and I sort of bump around for breathing room because each of our independent personalities need its own space, Nikki's passivity is fitting in nicely. That's not to say that having my sister here a month ago was bad- it was really refreshing to be reminded of unconditional love. But for better or worse, my sister is my doppelganger, and we don't fuck around. She's strong, she's smart, she's the best and I miss her everyday. I hope one day we'll live in the same city, just, not in the same bedroom like we were forced to growing up.

Nikki likes my apartment. I'm excited for my mom to come see it. Although sometimes I feel like all I do is clean and 'maintain' this place, I forget that it's actually pretty nice. It's big. The floors are nice. The ceilings are high. My bedroom is cozy. My study (I have a study!) is perfect. For the most part I love it although there are always the little things that I can do without. I guess my living situation won't be totally perfect for a while, not until it's my own my own (with the one I love presumably) and so I live on. As long as it's not Hiscock House all over again, I shouldn't die. I should, in fact, try to remember why I enjoy it.

I should also, in fact, remember why I'm out here. Law School. And with that, my half hour of procrastination shall come to a close, and I return to my assignment.

But real quick, my friend Gina totally channeled my music choice of this morning. Must be in the air...

This Song.

I've become ridiculous. Seriously. I've lost all Amy-isms since... hmm. Since starting law school? Since moving to Moldova? Since graduating college? I feel so out of whack and out of my element at school in this way that is so lame!

We were assigned a practice exam problem just to see how we're understanding the material. It was returned to us today with comments. As the professor was passing them out she explained something about check marks. I understood that there were six people who got a check mark, and those people needed to seek help asap, go to student affairs, and really figure out how to learn the stuff. I get my paper back and see a check mark. A CHECK! It felt like an arrow through my brain with my brain bleeding into my heart. I have had this feeling a lot lately- thinking I understand something and then getting the results back showing that I'm way worse off than I thought.

I took my paper and went to the library and reviewed all the professor's comments over and over until I understood what I did wrong. I felt defeated and at the same time like "this is it"- time for me to pull out all the stops and get my shit together. I didn't come to law school to be a fuck up. I'm not a low-half grader, I'm just not.

Later, after I took a delayed and packed bus home, my friend from school and I started texting back and forth about our classes and I confessed to her that, yes, I got a check mark. She was like, 'yea, so did I. You're fine!" I didn't understand. I explained to her that, no, check marks were bad, only six people got them. She called me immediately and clarified that six people received check mark MINUS, everyone else received a check mark. She got slightly worried too and called our other friend just to confirm, but she was right. A check mark was fine.

Fine.

Gah, I'm such a mess! I cannot, cannot let myself get crazy in the way I have been. Alternately I need to stop being so lazy and weird when I'm home. I have to kill the internet or something because I seem to get no work done at home. When I stay at school to study I end up spending a ton of money on food and am just dead when I get home. What's better? Tomorrow I do the latter to make sure I stay on task. Otherwise, I'll be home 'studying' and end up writing another blog entry about how hard school is, and I think we can all start seeing a pattern...

Just a check mark. I'm doing fine.

I'm sleepy and interpreted 60 degree weather to be a lot warmer than it is and so am dressed too lightly. Dressing in New York is like Moldova all over again. I am either over-dressed and burning up, or under-dressed and chilled to the bone. I can't win. In Moldova I was just getting the hang of wearing thermal tights under jeans, and I move here and sweat like a crazy on the train. I get to school looking disheveled, my make-up smeared and my hair plastered to my forehead. Today I yawned all through a perfectly interesting class because my body couldn't keep warm.

At least my apartment is warm. I sit in it not unlike I did in my one heated room in my apartment in Ocnita; scantily clad and in one spot for hours.

Sometimes when I study so hard and I have to pee so bad I weigh the options in my head whether its more urgent to finish reading the case, or go. Case wins...

I'm not surprised, offended, nor am I sad if you've forgotten me. It's been a while. I know this. Additionally, my posts from the last year have been the lamest. I know. I know. I'm sorry. I make no grand promises to do better or write more, but I do at least apologize for hating life the last year and writing about it. No one needs that. I don't need that. I'll try to make this one better, newer, happier, somewhat more optimistic at very least.

That's not to say I haven't been hating life. I have. I'm in law school. Law school is hawd. I keep saying that to people and no one laughs. It's supposed to be funny. Like, guys, law school is hard. Get why it's funny? Because it's true that it's hard? People know it's hard? But I say it like guys, seriously, did you know this is how I feel? HAWD!

It's not impossible. It's not. But it's not fun and most of the time I'm insecerr. It's not coming easy and I don't always feel like the smartest, comparatively (to others and my past self.)

But I'll be okay. I spent Friday night in and Halloween in. Friday night I spoke with a friend from forever living California, J.Lo, and regained my balance. Last night spoke with another forever friend in Chicago, Josh, and reinstated my determination and motivation. Saw Gina friend this morning for brunch and remembered everything is fine, really. Today is productive, this post is the only detour. So far so good.

I'm in love, have you heard? An hour after that post about sitting on my parents' deck and being a lame-ass, I got rejected from a school I was really waiting on. I was in my house clothes and got in the car to drive around so my parents wouldn't come home and see me upset. I panic-cried in the car a little but mostly just drove around. As I was calming down I got a phone call from a guy I knew from grade school. We bumped into each other earlier in the week at the library and had a chat. We were classmate acquaintances but it'd be a stretch to say we were friends. We knew each other kind of well. I was at his Bar Mitzvah. At the library, where he works, we talked about our lives since high school and at the end of the conversation I got his number because I figured it'd be nice to have a local friend in my lame life at my parents house. I gave him my number too.

He called me at the perfect time, when I was the most bummed, and we hung out that night. By the end of the next week something was most definitely stirring. We began to hang out daily. The month after that we were on the Greek Islands and Berlin together.

IT'S LOVE YOU GUYS. I grew up with him! He knew me with braces and pre-nose surgeries! I knew him when he was way shorter than me (found his 6th grade yearbook. I wrote "get taller" to him. What a bitch.) Now, we know-each-other know each other. We're living apart, he's still there and I'm now here, but we're as close as "lips and teeth" (to steal an expression I read in The New Yorker this week that I can't get out of my head.) Plans for him to move to New York exist, my parents call him to take Roxanne out when they're out of town, and babies. Basically.

Other than all that, it's still a coasting way to be. I watch people outside of my window wheeling things: carts, strollers, themselves on bikes. I shower twice a day because I can. I don't cook too often because my time goes to studying, but I eat well.

And it's fall. My fall. This is, has been, and always will be, my season. If I'm not getting it together now, then I ain't Amy(chka.) This bitch don't mess around and y'all know it. I got the worst ahead of me, what with finals around the way, but I'm trying to hold it down. Keep the parents proud. Keep the morale high.

Also, I have bangs again. What was I thinking? I know. Seriously. I always do this shit. They look fine, cute even. But I'll tell you what- it's a me I'm familiar with and sometimes it's nice to see the old me in the new me.

Girlfriends,

I've gotten into the law school I've been wishing for and now I'M OUT TO CONCUR THE WORLD.

Hurray! Emotions abound!

OFF TO NEW YORK!!

I'm sitting on my parents' deck looking out at the school children loudly climbing into yellow buses and large SUV's and minivans. I'm watching this one kid walk past all the buses into the neighborhood behind this one- he's wearing a bright yellow safety belt- like he's a "safety" for the school- he helps kids at the cross walk. I remember in fifth grade I wasn't allowed to be a safety because I called some kid an asshole ("say 'pillow' instead." a teacher who wasn't even my teacher suggested.) I wasn't even upset I didn't become a safety because I would walk to school in the morning and they, my classmates who were safeties, would be standing outside freezing until the bell rang, and even in my childhood I understood the value of sleeping in and warmth. Sure, they then would come inside and be served hot chocolate and boast about it, but ultimately sleep always beat their stupid hot chocolate that didn't even have marshmallows.

I'm smoking a Davidoff cigarillo that my dad gave me but wishing it was a joint. I've been living at my parents house going on three months now and days like today, where I have nowhere to be, and have the house to myself, I still feel a tinge of teenage mischief and want to do something that I wouldn't do when my parents are home. However, at my age now, I pretty much do anything I want to whether they're around or not- including sleeping all hours of the day with my best friend Roxanne. Roxanne is the only one who really loves me. That is, Roxanne really loves me while my mom is out of town. When mom is home Roxanne usually loves her more. Traitor. My parents must think I'm the weirdest ever. I'm so mopey. "Hmmm Hummm" all day from me. My dad asks daily, "Are you bored?" I am taking classes at the community college but that's dumb too. I'm a blast to be around these days I imagine. I sort of feel bad for cramping my parents' style. But not that bad.

Ah, so, post Moldova life, is, well, as anticlimactic as many days in Moldova were. It's a continuation of this 'relaxation' that everyone keeps helping me justify. My parents say, "relax! Just relax! You'll be so busy and stressed in Law School, in The Future, in Life, just relax now while you can!" My Moldovan boyfriend, Misha, would always say "be lazy! You'll have plenty of time to be busy once you get back to America!" My head says "whatever, whatever. Just do whatever. It doesn't matter. TRANSITION."

I thought I wasn't going to write in this anymore. I left Moldova without any conclusions on this and then once I arrived home figured no one wants to read about my lame life living with my parents in the suburbs while I wait for law schools to figure out what they want already. No one will want to read law school waiting rants, I don't even like reading law school waiting rants. (That's a lie, I refresh law school message boards all day, in between trashy blogs, news, and watching TV.)

As for Moldova, I'm still in touch with folks there, thanks to the internet. I'm on odnaklassniki.ru which is basically Russian Facebook without all the pokes and relationship status, and I e-mail and call people on Skype. I hear mixed things about what's going on at the sport school/Action Club. I've heard aerobics is completely over, I've heard that over 80 people go to the club. I know pretty much who is telling the truth and who is exaggerating to keep me from forming any new opinions about them. However, most of the opinions are exactly as they were when I left, for better or for worse. I really liked being out there. It felt important and interesting even when it wasn't. Though it was really quiet in terms of my social life or things to do, it was different and showed me a lot about my personality. Being back home, with little in terms of my social life or things to do, I'm just coasting in this weird way. I work out a bunch but realized today that I'm still pretty out of shape because I'm in denial that I really am that lazy. I am obsessed with thinking about where to go next or things I should've done (maybe I should've continued being abroad somewhere during this time, right now. Picked up another language. Traveled some more.) I have a shortage of friends but at the same time not at all because there are people around here who want to hang out but I'm sort of a bitch and no one is funny/interesting/good enough plus I'm here in Detroit temporarily and thus treat my relationships as such. My good friend(s) out here have there own stuff going on and there really isn't that many of them left anymore. Plus I pine for new friends.

Holy shit. This just became the blog I didn't want it to be. Ok, that's enough of that. Let me refocus on Roxanne for a second. That bitch is so sneaky. She totally knows how much I love to sleep and gets all up next to me and looks at me and then subtly doses off in an inviting manner I simply cannot ignore. One. Two, when we go for walks and she goes potty, she kicks up back legs afterward and I LOL every time. Three, she ate cottage cheese and it got all over her face and she didn't even know it so I let her walk around like that. HOW EMBARRASSING FOR HER RIGHT?

So it's back on I guess. I felt bad folks have me linked and I don't even write anymore, so maybe this will get me my points back. All things considered, it's nice being back.

In between two pressing projects I still find myself waking up in the morning at whatever time I want to and try to figure out what to do during the day. Today is one of those days.

Like yesterday, it looks like reading my book on a blanket in the woods will beat out sitting at home on the internet this afternoon.

It's so much easier to suggest solutions when you don't know too much about the problem.

- Malcolm Forbes

My lovely 4AM bus.

Samantha's visit!!

Real Moldovan dinner at Tamara's

We can dance if we want to...

MD is prettttty.

We're famous.

Disco dancing fun timez with friendys

So excited to go to the circus!

I was IN the circus!

REPREZENT.

Holocaust Memorial Opening

The whole village of Hincauti came. Witnesses recounted the murders of their Jewish neighbors. Speeches, prayers, and remembrance.

At the Jewish Cemetary in Edineti

Translating Yiddish.

Samantha and Amy at the opening.

Misha and Amy at the opening.

...does not have the same connotation as in America. At all. People let the N-bomb fly out here without flinching. "That's just what they're called." I've been explained. I've been here for over a year now and the word still cuts my ears when I hear someone use it. Yesterday, in conversation, a woman said the word in describing how hard she worked that day ("As hard as a ...") Another man, who I also respect, asked me about the word right after he casually used it, perhaps noticing my slight wince. I explained the offensive weight and shameful history the word implies, and he replied, "Oh okay, so instead of saying it we'll say Chocolate instead." Uhm.. not necessarily the appellative substitute I had in mind.

On TV, Russian programming, comedians and television shows mock American movies and hilariously use the word to address each other, or third person subjects of a bit. It infuriates me. Kids here listed to the American songs, everyone watches the actors, and so, of course it's okay to say it, I mean, they themselves say it! I've even seen some hot street art; "Nigers" spray-painted in big red letters on the side of a run down Soviet factory. (But perhaps I'm misinterpreting the tag; people could just really be supportive of the country Nigeria.)

America, I blame the music and the insulated culture around it. This shit is global, and I'm telling you, we're taking steps backwards in tolerance, understanding, and compassion. When I've also went on to explain how it can be acceptable for people in the same group to call each other a certain word, but for people outside the group to say it is offensive, the response I've gotten is that "if they can say it at all, we can say it too. Otherwise, why would they say it to each other if it is so bad?" Which is actually a pretty good question. I don't think kinship is a sufficient enough excuse, especially if it allows the rest of the world to be ignorant.

I don't often post about my work, and this last month I've not posted at all because I've been busy doing it, but guys, it's interesting what I do out here, and y'all should know about it.

Let's start from the top.

Last I wrote about newspapers and womens' weeks. Both those things fell through as both are linked to the same organization, the original partners I was assigned to. My parents didn't raise a quitter, so I tried to make it work with these women. I stressed the importance of involving a local partner with the youth newspaper, that I shouldn't be running it on my own because I'm only temporarily here. They made like they understood, but no changes were made. Ultimately, it was the irresponsibility of the youth themselves that made it easier for me to step away from the project. I was solely supporting the youth staff, working with them, laughing and on occasion crying with them. They love(d) me and respect(ed) me, but when it came time to getting work done, they didn't hold up their end of the deal. I was getting sick of no one following deadlines and making up bullshit excuses for why work wasn't getting done, and I decided I wasn't going to be running after Moldova's youth if the Moldovan adults don't care to themselves. As community development volunteers, our role is to assist in sustainable projects, not have it all on our shoulders, because when we leave, who will continue it? As I told people here, when I go back to the States, a small town youth newspaper in Moldova will not be important to me, but for the town, it's important for their children, so its the town's responsibility to keep it going, not mine.

I desperately looked for a local partner for this newspaper initiative, but for free no one was willing to work with the youth staff, the teachers and school directors already did not support the project (repeatedly mocking the kids who I felt were brave pioneers that they were wasting their time with this silly little newspaper,) and while people do have time to watch television from the moment they get home from work, no one had time for these kids. The library said they'd help, but there was little movement from their end, it was still me. When the last issue was supposed to be finished and printed by Valentine's day, mysteriously the newspaper editor and other staff members had disappeared; not answering my phone calls as deadlines rolled in. I felt personally hurt as I always answered their phone calls, often inviting them over to tea for hours. But then I was pissed off and decided that it would be a greater lesson of responsibility to the kids if I drop them (as any real boss in the real world would if people didn't follow through on their work) than if I was to just scold them again for the millionth time, like a mother, and make empty threats. I think my message was understood clearly, because the kids feel very guilty and sad when we meet around town, knowing that they dropped the bomb on their own project.

Three months late, the remaining staff members did eventually put out the Valentine's Day issue, but as the Easter issue. The kids wearily called me to come and see it. It was okay. I told them good job, asked them their plan to sell the paper (another problem that frustrated me with the group; producing and paying for printing of papers, and then NOT selling even half of them,) and I wished them luck in the future. They're working without any adult help. I do wish them luck.

Women's Week is something boring I don't feel like talking about. Long story short, the first year I had just arrived to town and we did Women's week because Amy wanted to. This year, I was ready to take a back seat and have the women run it themselves (sustainability) but help them with whatever needed to get done. This tactic proved that if Amy doesn't insist on meeting to plan the week, the week wouldn't happen. The days we did meet for planning were rushed and done for my benefit, not theirs. The week was more like 2.5 half-assed days that no one heard or cared about. It proved that last year, the week was done for me, not for the town's women. So if they don't need it, I definitely don't need it. Ultimately, the problem I had with the women in terms of both the newspaper and the women's org was that the work was expected to get done, grants were expected to be won, but no one was willing to put in the time. It was like pushing against a brick wall to get anything done with them, so without burning any bridges or causing any conflicts, I simply no longer see these women, and have since moved my energy elsewhere.

I've always written about the sport school and the director and my aerobics class, so my involvement there is nothing new. But in the last few months, the director and I have been working hard to turn the sport school into a community center. With renovations, updated facilities, and new equipment, the building is a perfect spot for families and youth to come together, exercise, meet, and have a healthy alternative to all the bars in town. The club will be YMCA/JCC style with members paying fees that will go back to the development of the club. (If women pay 70Lei a month for aerobics ($7) and no shower facilities, then we're confident people will be willing to pay 100Lei/month when there will be showers, non-smoking/non-alcoholic cafe, table tennis, billiards, weights, etcetera.) We've been doing a lot of planning, cost-analysis, and contract writing. We got the local government to (financially) contribute to the construction and with that, I wrote a grant and we won $3,000 to build the showers in the building. We will need more than that, the whole project costs $20,000, but with local sponsors, the grant, and the government's help, $10,000 of the project should be done this summer. It's an excellent start. The opening for the club is tentatively September. (My personal goal is to have the opening when my mamachka will be in town. Aww...)

The other project I'm doing fell into my hands, but I do believe it's fate. I'm working in the raion (district) city next to mine on an important project. It's about the Holocaust. From an e-mail I've written to a friend:

"My second project is erecting Holocaust monuments throughout the north of Moldova. The reason for this project isn't because I'm an American Jew and thinks it's important (though I am and I do) but because people in Moldova have NO IDEA about the Holocaust. If you were to open a high school history text book here to World War 2 there is ABSOLUTELY no mention of the Holocaust. It shocked me that people who I respect here had never heard of the genocide that happened on their land. From youth to people our parents age- there is absolutely no knowledge about it because the Soviet Union didn't think it was important, and neither does the current Moldovan government. This initiative hopes to not only commemorate and educate, but also to promote tolerance through summer camps and schools. I'm working with a historian (who is Moldovan, and this idea is actually his) and the American Embassy. I'm going to be soliciting donations from America. Each monument will cost between $1,000 - $2,000, and Yuri, the historian, has 40 spots throughout the north marking mass murders, death marches, and ghettos, with three monuments already erected. The other forgotten, but also important fact was that the killings here were not done by Germans, but rather by the Romanians- who murdered Jews enthusiastically. I know a lot of American and Israeli Jews have roots from Bessarabia (Moldova,) and I'm hoping people will see the importance of this project, not just for Jews, but for society." Yesterday my partners and I met with Dr. Radu Ioanid, and a visit from Father Desbois is in the works, so this project is beginning to take off. I'll be sending a letter to America soon, so keep checking in for more information on this second project.

Finally, I'm also taking over as the President of the Peace Corps group MoldovaTIP (Trafficking in Persons.) This group promotes volunteers acting as an important connection between the larger anti-trafficking organizations and actual citizens, by coordinating seminars, trainings, and movie events. Also, Lumina Pentru Toti (Light for All,) the PC diversity initiative Tia, Michelle and I started, is in the process of handing over leadership to the newer volunteers to continue the work of providing in-house support and training that was lacking when we were in training.

Now that you know what I'm busy doing, read about where I'm doing it.

Links relevant:

Sharon's astute take on an important issue in Moldova: MONEY.

Counter traffickers.

Romania and Moldova's bumpy relationship.

Three part series about Transnistria: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

MUTO a wall-painted animation by BLU from blu on Vimeo.

Thanks Videogum!

A couple days ago I was walking home and noticed these two dogs outside of my apartment who were just standing butt to butt with their tongues hanging out. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that they were stuck together, rather, their butts were stuck together. I stood and watched them for a few minutes to see if they were in pain or what and tried to figure out what the deal was. Then they starting walking together butt to butt, and seemed more confused than in pain.

Possible reasons for their butts being stuck together:

A. Someone playing a mean joke on the dogs and gluing them together somehow.

B. Magnets in the butt.

C. They were having dog sex and then the boy part got stuck in the girl part (but then, how are they facing away from each other without it hurting?)

D. They're just playing "let's walk butt to butt."

E. Other: Fill in guess in comments.

Select one reason and post in comments.

Enjoy?:

I forgot I forgot I forgot how absolutely wonderful spring in Moldova is. The tree outside my bedroom window is blooming. I woke up a few days ago and saw white specks on it and thought, fuck it's snowing again, but it wasn't snow! It's flowers!

People are leaving their house more, and the town feels alive again. This time around I'm just another person here, hello-ing to the store clerks and students I pass when I go for evening walks, snapping sunflower seeds between my teeth like my mom does.

It's a small town, claustrophobic even. But there is something to be said for just walking around. It's very distinctly European- walking with friends. The simply calling up a friend to go out, but not to sit at a bar, but just stroll. It's such a familiar feeling to me, because my mom loved to put on her windbreaker and fill her pockets with sunflower seeds and just walk and talk. Now that Roxanne is in our lives, there's an extra reason to go out, but even before her, I remember those walks at dusk throughout my childhood. I felt it last night as I turned corners aimlessly, chatting away with Misha, or the day before with Lena, or last summer with Alina. The walking I did in Ann Arbor was always with Roxanne, and let's admit it, she's not the best talking partner because on her walks she's just interested in finding the perfect spot to defecate onto.

It's getting warmer, thus my walks are getting longer. After a winter of being holed up in my living room (the only room in my apartment with heat,) it's finally nice to get out and stretch my legs.

[Leningrad is singing "Hvataiet denog do huia do huia... shas dengi est, nu nyet lubvi, fso daje suka, c'est la vie." For those who understood that, you would think this song is rock and roll or rough, but it's actually a very slow, beautiful song with saxophone and light guitar strumming. Lovely, nu?]

The first year I talked to a lot more folks from home than this year. Perhaps it's because we see each other online so much that we don't really consider one another. I think the distance is muted when my little name pops up on the screen. There's the boring comfort that I'm still here. It appears that my far away adventure isn't so risky or interesting after all. How can it be if she has internet?

I'm not upset by the ellipses in communication. I'm so far away; it's only natural. I've substituted much of my correspondence home with actual communication to people here. I have new characters in my life whom I've not had the urge to write about. I noticed when the line between novel and real started to fade months and months ago, and to write about these people now would have to be through a different approach.

I suppose some of the communication break-down with home is because it's no longer an exotic fairytale, nor anecdotes for my friends, or readers. I've sort of become used to that mode of thought, but I feel myself outgrowing it.

I still pine for my friends and familiarity while time putters forward. It saddens me a bit that those I love are not growing alongside with me, and we're all busy sprouting our own ways. However, I'm also grateful that I have to do this on my own.

I feel myself regrouping. This year, which may turn into an actual year more as I'm considering extending my service, I'm starting to pay more attention. I'm beginning to perceive myself in this context more concretely than even a month ago. My host mom and I were talking today about my time here. I was explaining how much more I've come to understand now, how much I've learned. She responded that when I first arrived and started working here I was still green, too new. Thus, these last months of inertia I've simply been budding. This week, it seems, I am finally beginning to blossom.

I've had problems with my door handle to my apartment. Either the door sticks, or the handle gets loose making it hard to slam the door closed, or the handle just falls off. Last night the handle fell off, again, for the third time. For the third time I called my landlord, who's actually a friend of mine out here, and for the third time, she brought over one of the handymen who works at her office to fix it. Each time I've hinted to her that there needs to be a new door handle, and she knows it, yet each time she simply brings over a new handyman and he figures out a way to just jam the thing onto the door in hopes of it staying there.

She brought a man and left to go back to work. This guy is in my hallway corridor right now messing with the door. He is panting and grunting, and when he walked in he smelled sweaty. He's a guy I know from the office- one of the security dudes. He always says hi to me and asks me questions on the differences between here (MD) and there (USA). He has taken one of my kitchen knives to use for fixing the door; this is not the first handyman to do this and hopefully he doesn't bend the tip of the knife like the last guy did.

He is banging and pulling on my door. I am in my living room. It's sounding pretty productive over there, what with all the exclamations of "son of a bitch!" and "fuck your mother" he's emitting. For every morning that I have had to wake up to banging from the upstairs neighbors, I finally get to respond back with my own personal banging and cursing. It's my way of saying thank you, but too bad it's afternoon, and not, say, 11pm.

Now I'm just waiting for him to finish so I can go outside and enjoy this lovely spring day. I hope he gets the handle in good enough so I can leave my house and not worry about- Oh! I just heard him sighing "tak, tak tak!" which sounds like a conclusive remark to me. Let's find out shall we?

Update: Wood shards all over the floor. He used the knife to cut a branch outside and used the branch to mount the door handle somehow. Crafty.

Final Update: Dripping wet, he finished the door. Telling me I could use my feet and the door handle won't break off, he pulled and pulled to demonstrate his work. He then, pointing to the wood on the floor said, "You'll sweep that up," put his tools back in his plastic shopping bag, wished me well, and went on his way.

Work work work today. First of all, woke up to amazing weather. Really sunny in my bedroom when I opened my eyes after dreaming about Paris Hilton befriending my sister, while Nikki Hilton showed me her art, which was mostly clay figurines of caterpillars and wall art of dripping green and purple paint. I got up about an hour after opening my eyes, BECAUSE I CAN, and went to Tamara's for Romanian. We gossiped a little, okay a lot, mostly about marriage; who was, and wasn't, falling for the trick. I then went to meet with my counterpart about Women's Week 2008, which is last-minutely being planned, as to be expected out here, but being planned nonetheless. We reviewed what was done so far and then I went to confirm times with a couple of women who were involved with the week. First, the Librarian, and then, the Director of Culture.

The latter and I have a bit of a history; last year, the Director of Culture and I had an interesting introduction. I had started planning Women's Week with my counterparts, the women's rights NGO who invited me to town, and everything seemed to go as planned, until the Director of Culture flipped that no one had asked her about Women's Week, and how could we plan something without her involvement!? Additionally, she went on to say, how can there be a foreigner (yours truly) planning something without HER approval, and who did this foreigner think she was!? When I heard about this I did what anyone would do; I went to go formally meet her, on her birthday, with presents. The day I came, she wasn't in, but I left the gifts anyways. Later that week, at a Women's Week event, we finally met; she hugged and kissed me and was oh so happy to finally have met me.

This year, today, I went to her office for time confirmations, and today was, coincidentally, her birthday. After discussing times with her, I was invited for coffee. I obliged and was lead into a room. There was a large table covered with food, booze, and around it sat all the men who work in the local government, save for the president himself. They were all celebrating her birthday. She sat me at the table telling the men she found another woman to decorate her birthday with. Upon seeing me, the men became extremely uncomfortable, with a couple of them barely looking me in the eyes. Ashamed they were caught drinking on a Monday afternoon by the wholesome American volunteer, the room grew silent. The Vice-President, looking down at his plate, ash from his cigarette dropping, asked how I was doing. Lightheartedly I replied, great, y'know, working working. He then excused himself explaining he had a lot of work to get done today, and left, while the other men shifted in their seats between speaking Moldovan, and Russian for me (though they all know I understand Moldovan.) Finally, the birthday girl, the director, ordered for one of the men to poor me cognac, wine, vodka... "Amy, what would you like?" Knowing I should say "just juice" because I have aerobics today, I said vodka, if only to lighten the tension in the room. Immediately the men relaxed, relieved that even the Americanca understood unwinding mid-day on a Monday.

I stuck around for about an hour, getting tipsy with the Director and the men. The conversations were actually pretty nice; because all of the men knew me, I didn't need to answer questions proving myself. Mostly, we just talked about the differences of our countries, the elections, and their country's history- the usual table conversations when I'm around. When I excused myself, the Director thanked me for coming, saying "it's not a birthday until an American is at your table." To work off my buzz, I went walking through town in the nice weather I woke up to, gabbing with Misha on my cellphone about all the gossip I had for the day, and then went home to write all about it in my blog.

I gave my kickboxing instructor a Spongebob candy Valentine. He grumpily took it and asked, "what's this?"

I said it's "Spongebob! губка боб!"

He looked at for a moment and said, "What am I supposed to do with it?"

Skipping around him like a 5 year-old I exclaimed, "Alik! It's Valentine's Day!!!"

He had totally forgotten today was Valentine's Day and when I reminded him he said, "Oh yeah... Thanks!" But then, the rest of training he was in an even worse mood than when he first came in. I don't know what his deal was, probably it’s that he’s sick of being alone, at 40-something, and holidays like this remind him of his loneliness.

As I mentioned in the last entry, a common defense mechanism out here is psychological projection, so naturally he started to take it out on me.

He started saying shit like when I go home I’m just going to get fat, like I did when I came back from America this last time.

I explained, “when I was home, I was on vacation, so sure, I ate, but when I’ll permanently be back in the States, I’m obviously going to be doing some sport to keep up my health/shape.”

He was like, “being home was not a vacation, it was you pigging-out and being a slob.” He was totally being rude.

I responded, “being home with my family IS a vacation to me, and what, it’s not like I came back that much bigger, and it’s all pretty much gone now!”

With his hands out to the sides to imply a fat ass, he responded, “but you did come back a little bigger.”

I said, “I was home for two weeks, so sure, I just relaxed! But when I’ll come back for good…” Then I realized I was defending myself to him for no reason, so I asked point-blank, “Why are you being mean to me?”

He didn’t answer.

After that, I might have said, like, five times, “Don’t be mean and rude to me. I don’t deserve it.”

He didn’t respond at all. I’m sure he just felt worse.

I didn’t let him put me down (not on Valentine’s Day! Hurray for love! Flowers and hearts!) We finished training on a somewhat positive note; I asked him advice for my aerobics class, which always strokes his ego just a little bit. I like the guy, but he ain’t my man, he ain’t family, and no one gonna be telling me that I’ll be getting fat other than my Daddy.

Happy Love Day to all y’all!

The stress levels in Eastern Europe must be higher than the West's by at least ten decibels, if only because of the shrieking. There is so much high-pitched, temper-losing shrieking heard on a daily bases. For an outsider, the demanding, fevered, and angry commands these voices advert cause instant panic. Mostly the women are responsible for this sound, and some of them can't help it; their voices are just like that. In their voices is heard the absolute distress of always having to deal with everything. Every woman becomes a mother shouting, pleading, "I do enough around here and NOW YOU LISTEN TO ME!!" She is fed up, she is angry, she is tired, and she is going to make you feel responsible for it.

The guilt one feels is unlike the guilt from a Jewish mother, who one ultimately just wants to please, but rather from a nagging wife. A wife who has let her figure go, along with her once precise coiffure, but goddamn if she doesn't work hard for this family, raise the children, cook pork dinners, clean the house, feed the animals, and put up with her good-for-nothing husband who sits through her shouting, staring at his knees where his hands are resting, quivering not because he is afraid of his yelling wife, but because damn he wishes she would stop already so he could go get drunk with the other man who are already halfway there. But nonetheless, he listens, and his heart hurts because he knows it is all true, and he feels shame, and he doesn't know what to do, but knows the vodka helps.

Of course, there are appropriate venues for these shrieks to ring out true and loud for all to experience. For example, the market is the ideal location to experience rounds of projected anger as both a consumer and a vender. No one every questions why they are being yelled at, instead they simply just yell back. One’s home can also be a fine setting for a good shout. However, one must be mindful of neighbors if home is an apartment. Neighbors will turn off televisions, radios, and pace through the apartment, following the commotion as it travels above them, trying to hear what the fight is about this time, but only successfully deciphering the obscenities.

Unfortunately, though, the clamor is not limited to the suitable locations, but is consistently exposed to the entire world. The outsider is accosted by this bulldozing vocalization when least in the mood for it. One could simply be standing in the quasi-line at the bank, when the confrontation starts from behind, and presumptuously moves to the front of the line, with an expression of being owed the position, and a half-challenge for those patiently waiting to claim otherwise. But there is always an equally charged treble jumping at the offense with such squawking repudiation; feral cats are put to shame. To be caught within the throws of howls for greater honor shakes the balance of the day. Emotions are emitted, feelings are altered, and everyone has a headache.

However, women are not the only offenders. In any office, one can be victim to a man unleashing entirely inappropriate anger in equally inappropriate volumes. He might cuss and he might pull a “Khrushchev,” but he too will definitely shriek. When the men are yelling, everyone instantly becomes the child who pushed dad way too far, fearing he might really lose it this time, or give himself a heart attack. What can start as a normal, somewhat heated dialogue can turn into a screaming match of impositions and accusations. Passer Byers in the corridor are too caught off-guard to be amused by the unprofessional appearance of it all. Bystanders’ and argument participants’ nerves are stirred, and anxiety levels rise.

Tempers flicker and burst even at happy occasions. If there is alcohol involved, and there is even slight tension between guests, a wedding can easily turn into a brawl. There is even a saying that without a fight, a wedding just isn’t a wedding.

People grow used to the constant aggression and it becomes an acceptable form of communication. However, people cannot adapt to reacting to these outbursts of confrontation; uncontrollably the heart beats faster and the panic sets in. People function at a higher sense of alertness, unable to freely run errands in a calm environment, or have a conflict-free week at work. Everyone is constantly on guard, bracing themselves for the next attack. At home it isn’t always relaxation, but rather only escape from the outside for the night.

If only the shriekers could see themselves from the sidelines. Would they feel any embarrassment at all? Or would they be proud of their pomposity? Understandably, their general negative dispositions are not always entirely their faults, what with the subtle oppression infused throughout generations, but there must be better ways to cope than yelling at acquaintances and strangers. But then again, Eastern Europeans do have a deep-rooted history of constantly getting shafted, and then reprimanded. It's their birthright to yell, be yelled at, and constantly be stressed out. It's what they know, and a tradition is hard to change.

...though I'm tempted to.

Seriously, the pancake is smiling at us.

Black olives

Smoked cheese

Fresh Goat cheese

Artichoke hearts

Marinated tomatoes

Tamatoe paste

Onions

Garlic

Have I mentioned that I get my laundry done out here? Meaning, I pay a woman to wash my laundry. She has a son in high school, who is super cute and shy, who comes and picks up my bag of laundry and then a couple weeks later brings the bag back, with all the laundry clean and crisply pressed and pressed so nice oh my god it's unbelievable. I should also mention I pay 10 lei a kilogram for this service. That is about $0.60 a pound.

For months, I never gave the woman my underwear to be washed because I dunno, I thought it would be inappropriate to? I thought it wouldn't be acceptable to do? So instead, I'd give her all my clothes, and then wash my undergarments by hand, hating every moment of it and bitching to everyone about it each time. Tamara had told me, "Give the underwear to the lady to wash!" Jen had told me, "In India, I always gave my underwear with laundry to be washed, it's totally fine!" Misha told me, "Amy, you are absolutely ridiculous, give her your underwear!" Tamara even got so sick of my bitching she was like, "Want me to wash them for you?" I was all, "That's even worse than giving them to the laundry lady!"

Every once in a while, a pantie would get into my laundry mix accidentally. It would come back ironed, just like the rest of the clothes. I always took it as an "Oops! No hard feelings!" from the woman. But the underwear would come back ironed, and folded so neatly, that I started to wonder, maybe it's not such a crazy idea to give her underpants?

So Misha and I came up with an idea: I would give her my underwear in a separate little bag within my big laundry bag. That way if she does them, cool, and if not, no hard feelings. Weeks past, and I began wondering about my decision. Was this the right thing to do? Was it too much of me to ask for? I mean I am paying her, but is it rude of me to do?

So finally she called and tells me the laundry is ready, and her son will bring it over. Her voice didn't sound any different than usual, so that was a good sign. Son came, I paid, and immediately opened the bag to find...

all of my underwear had been washed, ironed, folded, and in color-coordinated rainbow order. This was it- I had hit jackpot. The woman not only washed my underwear without any pretense, but she then stacked them according to color tone. The pinks next to the reds, the greens with the blues, blacks on one end, white on the other.

So now, hells yes I give her my underwear to wash!! I really have no idea how I'm going to adapt back to America life. Not only will I not have a private laundry lady who does an immaculate job for hella cheap, but I will have to wash my own laundry and fuck if I would ever iron press, fold, and color-coordinate my panties.

Moldova: Living it up one ironed undergarment at a time.

I'm starting to get back aches from sitting on my ass so much on this beat up sofa in my living room. The convertible sofa is on loan from Misha (that was included in his apartment when he bought it) and It was in June when Misha and Fedia, in the cover of darkness, brought this couch over by foot to my apartment. I then served them sandwiches and cognac. That was over six months ago.

Now, this couch is frequented mostly by me, sitting online, writing, and Misha, when we together watch downloaded, Russian dubbed movies on my laptop. Fedia doesn't come around anymore- we had a bit of a falling out. However, I'm determined not to leave this country with burned bridges, so I'm sure we can be friendly again in 2008.

I've started working a little bit. On Tuesday there will be a meeting to start planning Women's Week 2008. Aerobics is going good. Romanian is going good. Law School researching is going... stressfully. I find myself in these mini-panic attacks, worried of my competency to actually get into these schools I'm reaching for. So, have been doing a lot of internal dialogue, evaluating who I am currently and if I have what I need to be who I want to be.

The kids newspaper is still happening. They're working on the Love issue right now for Valentine's day. They interviewed me about how American's celebrate V-Day and how American couples date. I made sure to mention that in relationships in America, sometimes the woman pays for stuff, and that's normal, and that's okay. Y'know, just to mix things up a bit.

What else. I've lost my sense of humor, other than being entirely too vulgar. I did make my host mom laugh though because two days ago the gas company raised their prices. So the gas guy comes to check my meter so the company can write out my bill. I went into the kitchen to check the number on the meter while he stood at the door. I told him the exact number on the meter. The moment he left and the door closed I realized fuck! The price is going up and he was checking the meter under the old price still- I should've told him a much higher number on the meter! I told Tamara this, and she told me the exact same thing happened to her. We had a good laugh at our lack of quick savviness. Get it? Hilarious.

Saw Beowulf in Russian at the theater in Chisinau. Took Tia out for birthday lunch. Cooked Lasagna last night with awesome lasagna noodles I found in Chisinau. I served some to my host mom who called me that night after she tried it and said "wow, Amy, you really are a good cook!" and I was all, "yea bitch, I knows."

So this is what my life is. It should be much more interesting sounding because I'm totally on the other side of the world from most of you readers and should be telling you anecdotes and insane things that happen to me daily. But my life is just mostly calm out here. I live in a small town. I get sick of seeing people and people seeing and knowing me. ("Who's that lawyer you're always walking with!?" "Planning on getting married yet?" "Just because we don't see you, doesn't mean we don't know what's going on with you!")

But that's not how it is with you people. Because you don't see me, you don't know what's going on with me. So I'm going to make a conscious effort to get this blog updated more, with anecdotes and insane things, and maybe some photos. In the meantime, I'll leave you with my thought of the month: I really wish Britney would get it together already. Also, Michael Jackson, I miss you.

It’s a tiny bit overdue (an entry) and a little late (resolutions) but at least it's here.

In case you haven’t been in my general social radius, including family, friends, friends of family, and etcetera, here is what’s been going on this last month or so.

First, I went to America, as I said I would. Seeing my family and being home felt like I never even left in the first place. I did a lot of sitting on the couch, watching “I Love New York 2” while Roxanne alternated between sleeping on me and running to the windows to patrol what was going on outside. In addition to sitting on a couch, I sat in cars and restaurants plenty too. By the end of the weeks, eating at restaurants lost its luster; I put on some substantial weight. But no matter, because the last leg of the trip was spent walking Manhattan. I was reunited with dear friends, which really did give me a gauge for where everyone was standing in this point in our lives. Some of my friends are doing much better than others, and some couldn’t find the time to see me (friends…) but catching up with everyone, looking my friends in the eyes and exchanging updates on our lives, really did motivate me to keep doing what I’m doing out here, and I was energized and ready to come back home, er, to Moldova I mean.

But all the energy I had upon arrival has gone by the wayside. I left pre-holiday season in the states to arrive smack dab in holiday season in Moldova. First there was getting back into the time zone (much harder the way back), then Christmas with the girls (what’s Christmas without the traditional Bathe-the-Jew ritual, for which I was solely invited?) The girls, all also volunteers, and I watched Christmas movies, baked cookies, and decorated stockings - y’know, goy things. I tried decorating my stocking with my name and a Star of David, but I messed up so it became just the star and an “A.” (Transcribed: “A star.” read: “A Jew.”) Needless to say, I was a little out of practice for Christmas celebrating, but I picked up fast, and it end up really being a relaxing, fun holiday with my closest Americancas out here. Plus, we had a really bomb turkey dinner with mashed potatoes that were dyed green and red by yours truly.

Following Christmas Americanul, there was the few day waiting period for New Year’s Eve. In this time nothing happened. Because I had just seen my family, my New Year’s Eve was a little less emotional than last year’s. Not as homesick this year. I spent the evening with Misha and then our friends. It was… okay. It wasn’t bad, but it just wasn’t a bang-‘em-up New Year’s Eve like years past. It’s okay though, because perhaps I’ll be back home for next year’s. Following New Year’s was another week of nothing including the Christian Orthodox Christmas, celebrated in Moldova on the 7th of January, and the old New Year, the 14th of January. When Moldovans have holidays, good luck trying to get anyone to do anything. So it's been a lot of laying low while waiting for the holidays to end.

However, I have finally started being productive the last few days. Being productive means not sleeping until 12, and not sitting online all day. (Even though today I did both those things.) My newspaper kids are working on their fourth issue, the director of the Sport School and I are starting our BIG project, and this week aerobics starts up again. So, so far, 2008 is going well.

Now, without further ado, my 2008 New Year’s Resolutions!!

1. Get back in shape. Eating at all those restaurants back in Detroit plus holidays in Moldova, with ladies too busy to come to aerobics which means Amy’s not teaching aerobics which means Amy’s got herself a little bit of a belly. But no fear- it’ll be gone before you can say “Amy Stop Eating Meat Gelatin (Russian: Haladets. Romanian: Ratchaturie) At The Moldovans’ Holiday Meals!!"

2. Don’t lose sight of what needs to get done. So, by the way, I totally got the score I needed on the LSAT’s. Higher than the first time I took it- by far, though still not perfect. Thus, this year, I really must concentrate on the other parts of getting into law school- including figuring out exactly where I want to apply to, write a killer personal statement, get my resume in order, and get those applications sparkling beautiful, and in early.

3. Do stuff to fill the resume with. Also, don’t lose sight of what I came here to do. While still thinking about the future, better do stuff now, and get a shitton of work done here so I even will have something to show for myself. Keep motivated.

4. Take advantage of the time. I need to start taking photos or something, but my life out here is just passing right along, and I’m afraid I’ll have little to no documentation or memory of it since for the most part I love being at home in my apartment, and pretty much know my town in and out. I did however go sledding a few days ago (I’ve got the bruise to prove it) and so I need to do more stuff like that.

5. Get Misha speaking English. If this kid and I can have full-on English conversations by the time I leave, that would be amazing.

6. Travel a little more.

7. Write more. I’m sorry, Mom, that I’ve not been keeping up with this blog like I have in the past. I promise to get back on the ball with write these totally awesome, interesting, fascinating posts of mine. (Plus, see number 2 about personal statement.)

8. Keep keeping in touch with friends.

9. More Amy time.

10. Throw the party of the year. I am already planning it. When I leave, it will be around the time of my birthday. I will throw the biggest party for myself ever. I’ll probably do it at one of the restaurants in town. Using my recipes, the tables will be half-Moldovan food, half-American, as will be the music. I will invite pretty much everyone I know out here, including colleagues, students, neighbors, and other American volunteers. It’ll cost a bit, but still be much cheaper throwing a party of that size here, as opposed to in the states. People will be talking about it, and me, for years after I leave.

11. Make it happen that people will be talking positively about me for years after I leave.

I'm a-home November 27 - December 8 and in New York until December something or another. Anyways, I'm in the Eastern Time Zone for a hot minute. And it'll be a HOT minute.

!!!!!!!!

I've been really emotional this month. I think a combination of my stressing out over the LSAT's and looking forward to going home to the U. S. of A. for a couple weeks has got me in all sorts of moods. I had some real highs this month (as evident by my amazzzing birthday party) and some weird moments where I get so unbelievable depressed-like and don't want to leave my house.

I've gotten quite irritable. I don't want to hear from anyone. I was at Tamara's a couple days ago and she started talking all this bullshit about our neighbors and the cat that keeps peeing in the stairwell, and blah, blah, chattycathy, blah. I was so not wanting to hear any of her gossip that I practically bolted out the door like "oh okay, yep, uh huh, okay, BYE!" I wake up in the morning, turn my cell phone off, go work out for a couple hours. We haven't had water for about a week now, that's really been helping my mood. I've been showering at the sport school and rationing well-water like a crazy; even the wells are now emptying. It's like Moldova knew I'd be leaving to go home soon so it wanted to get just one more BIG annoyance in before I left just to really, really piss me off.

Also, I now cry for no reason at the most unnecessary of times. Like, I'll be teaching aerobics, and the tears start coming and so I start jumping harder and faster. "Amy, keep it together! Keep it together!" Or yesterday, I was translating a song for Misha, and burst out crying! The song was totally unemotional, completely irrelevant, but it must've triggered something, or Misha's reaction to the song, or my reaction to his reaction, but at any rate, there I sat, crying, consoling Misha like "it's okay, it's okay. I just need a moment. It's okay." I've been having dreams about my family, and my friends, and Roxanne, in anticipation of seeing everyone. I can't even look at a photo of Dudulya without losing it a little. I suppose it's just the idea of being back in the states is revealing to me just how much I miss my family and life there. I'm psyching myself about this trip. Plus this exam. Oh the nerves, oh the aching. Oh oh oh.

Anyways,

All crybaby stuff aside, I really am excited as hell to get home. November 27th, GET READY FOOLS.