weakness and strength

"Our strength grows out of our weaknesses." Ralph Waldo Emerson





this little creature came to visit me right outside my balcony door. it stayed for 10 minutes and let me snap a healthy number of photos of it.

i don't know about you all, but i strongly believe the universe sends us signs. discernible or otherwise blurry, these signs are small symbols guiding murky paths.

i am on a murky path. the past few weeks have been trying and exhausting. i am pleased to report that i am learning oodles about me and the inner world that exists within me, but golly it has not been easy.

i am learning, albeit slowly, how important it is to admit my weaknesses. keep your fingers crossed for me as i unfold into this process and allow it to swoop me up and carry me somewhere else.

track

"sometimes life
is like waiting
on a lonely platform
looking up at the track
for the train
to take you
anywhere."

tony scibella

had this song on repeat all day.

picture found here

a bird without wings (or, a nest)

"Faith without works is like a bird without wings; she may hop with her companions on earth, yet she will never fly with them to heaven." Francis Beaumont

i woke this morning unrested and unsettled. i thought the general overwhelm from teaching was getting the best of me, but recalled the violent storm that ripped through my town last night and instantly knew better.

the storm was wicked. i woke at one point during the peak of the lightning and thunder portion to attempt closing windows in my drowsy state of mind only to fall right back asleep. when i woke this morning feeling wacky, i had to tell myself the memories of the storm were real. after all, it isn't every day here that there are such amazing storms and very rarely do they occur at night. huge, booming thunder clouds are what i remember of my childhood trips to iowa and how frightening they were from the vantage point of a top floor in an old house. but, this. well, if i had been more awake, it would have been spectacular to watch.

however, the wrath of said storm was not spectacularly kind to the little bird nest perched outside my balcony door. i noticed the crowded little nest's remains lying across my balcony when i stepped out to hang laundry this afternoon. lying in the corner below the nest's previous home are the baby birds who once resided inside it. above is the picture of their sad little pile of feathers and fluff. their little eyes are still nervously glancing around and every once in a while now, i notice their chirping and small movements.

anyone have any idea what to do with them? i have not been paying attention to whether or not the parents have abandoned them, but will hope they haven't. i am hesitant and frankly unwilling to touch them or feed them as i think neither of those would encourage the mother to return and would only result in dependency i cannot sustain. and that's assuming i knew what in the heck to feed them.

i have nearly decided to let nature run its course. if one pops its little head in my door in the meantime, maybe i'll change my mind, though.

any and all suggestions on what to do with these poor little birdies are welcome!

goodbye

"let us be grateful for people who make us happy: they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom." m. proust










these are the people i will miss terribly after they leave next week. good luck to all of them =)

june

i am writing this post hoping that someday i will look back on it and laugh. i do want this blog to be a (mostly) accurate and honest account of my feelings during this experience and this feeling of disgust and impatience and exhaustion is part of the whole shebang. let the complaining commence!

i have made it here nearly 15 months. 14.5 months, to be more accurate. an entire deployment for most enlisted military folks. more than half of the time i've agreed to spend here. a friend and i recently discussed how the people surviving this experience are not the ones who were necessarily the most excited, but rather the most stubborn and unwilling to go back. this rings particularly true for me at the moment, especially in moments when i am sitting at a table full of host country nationals drinking brandy and answering this question: "why on earth are you here?"

a marvelous question, i tell myself, chuckling about all the times i've not been able to answer this question for myself and then continue on to explain my ostensible reasons. they're solidly planted in my brain, these illusory reasons, and i can now spout them off rather quickly considering 15 months ago, i did not speak of word of this language. anyhow.

15 months. yay me.

and yet, i have these pesky two weeks sprawled out in front of me. two weeks that are just creeping on by, that refuse to speed up or go away. when i reflect on this experience a year from now, i think i'll lump june in with october...and january...and last july in the category of hardest months here. all this to say, if june could pass by more quickly, i wouldn't be upset in the slightest.

it is hot. the students could care less about school. instead of teaching the students, i field questions about my sex life, the overall low quality of life here, my summer plans that do not include returning to the u.s. and other absurdities for 45 minute time increments in a sweltering third floor classroom of a culture that believes a cool breeze, even in 95 degree heat, causes even the healthiest of folks to catch cold. hell, maybe they're right. i've been battling a bizarre head cold since saturday and am frustrated that it refuses to abate. my running schedule would appreciate clearer sinus flow and fewer snot-related headaches. i still argue that opening a window and a door to allow a nice breeze to flow through the room won't kill anyone, but instead, we sit and sweat and no longer pretend we care about foreign language learning.

the topping on all of this is the knowledge that soon and surely many of my closest friends and lifelines here will be returning to the states... a huge blow that will undoubtedly be a topic of many future posts.

so. recap: head cold. uninvited sex talk during class. sweltering heat. long days. crippled running schedule. plans to travel just two weeks away, but entirely outside of my grasp at present. swell friends leaving soon to resume lives elsewhere.

= i am ready for the end of june.

cherries!

for a gal who really is not fond of cherries, i have got a few to go around.
these are the wonderful gifts of my splendid neighbors who spent the beautiful weekend outside picking them while i slept and sniffled and coughed my way through the days.


i am pondering dipping them in chocolate and eating them that way. perhaps i'll learn to like cherries; my service here has been nothing if not an experiment in learning to love and adapt to foods i once detested (case in point: delicious, juicy red tomatoes).

guess how many days now? 8 EIGHT DAYS OF TEACHING LEFT! WOOT WOOT!

Edited to add: dear writing group- i admire your ability to produce such interesting and well conceived prose. i love reading your writing. but i do not have the gumption at present to partake. keep up the good work... i'll continue to creep around the blog and maybe someday soon will get my butt in gear.

pretentious resume padding

to the gentlemen in my town who all but accused me of promoting a political agenda by being a teacher here with the peace corps the other night, i offer this:

please click here.

impatience

i have never felt more impatient in my entire life. this is new territory for me- a fairly patient person- to be so completely and utterly anxious.

how long does it take for 10 days of teaching to pass? approximately a lifetime is my guess.

during that lifetime, i'll give out word searches, subsist on a diet of tomatoes and m&ms, run like mad, and hit the sack at 10:30 every night to make the long nights pass more quickly.

this. literally. feels. like. crawling. through. unpleasantly. warm. molasses.

cross your fingers for me.

18 days

may 30, 2009
the season of beautiful sunsets is once again upon me. here's to something beautiful on days that are starting to blur together in my collection of "days my imagination has had to create its own beauty because my surroundings feel vapid, sullen, void."

one additional day of teaching down. 18 more to go.

summer, liveliness, faith and the restoration of beauty in places far far far away from here is 18 days of teaching away from me.

i will make it.