it's been exactly a month since i wrote my last post.

i contemplated writing a post that essentially said "hey, it's been fun but i'm done with this blog" and yet, i cannot bring myself to stop blogging. it would seem there are a few sparse moments when i still need to write here, though i'm generally not sure this space is representative of the overall experience i'm having.

it is and it isn't.

with just three days to survive children who have collectively decided to check out for christmas vacation, i am certainly more anxious than ever to get on with all this and high-tail it to paris.

while vague and disappointingly cryptic, i just wish to say now that i've learned so much about myself during this experience it no longer seems to matter what i'm not accomplishing in my day-to-day life. feelings of failure and paranoia and really devastating homesickness are more easily swept aside now than they were at any point along this journey.

i cannot say i'm done writing here. i'm not. but, if the recent past is a prediction of my writing forecast, i won't be writing much here about this experience any longer. the positive things in life aren't the fodder for my journaling and blogging content even though i should generally spend more time writing about the good stuff. there just isn't enough time in life not to be writing about the good stuff. this space hasn't served the purpose of revealing the positive side of bulgaria... and perhaps one day i'll write bundles about the good things that hindsight's clarity will bring.

for now, as for much of my experience in bulgaria, silence and contemplation are the order of the day.

thank you all for reading.

exhausted

i have not had a pleasant day.

i am not going to write about it because i'm sick of this being a dumping ground for all of my negative experiences.

suffice it to say there are days when living here feels like walking among the living dead. people are going through the motions but to what end? life is something to be bitter about, and what the hell am i doing here smiling?

i am exhausted.
i am losing motivation.
7 months to soul restoration and all things familiar and challenges in my own country.
i have never been so proud to be an american.

on world peace and blog posting

apparently, checking back into this blog- the same one i ignored for well over a month- has inspired me not to write more, no, but instead to share with you all just a few things my eyes are touring while the days drag by.

behold, one of the scariest posts i've read in a while from author steve coll. i was first introduced to coll's writing this spring when his book ghost wars fell into my lap. i was transfixed for a good couple of weeks (it's a dense 600 pages, give me a break) by how concisely and expertly he seemed to recount in this book the lead up to current climate of afghanistan. i would never have pegged myself as the type to be consumed by a lengthy account of historical progressions between the soviet union and the islamic world... but, well... it was fabulously interesting.


i certainly don't want to change channels and go all political on you. however, i was struck by how little i stop to comprehend the possibilities inherent in things going really wrong over there when i'm making my daily choice not to think about that part of the world.

it's terrifying to think we all know people who might be headed that direction to serve this country. ugh... i think that's the real reason i tune out the words "afghanistan" and "more troops" as quickly as possible. but it's equally as terrifying to think someday this whole "issue" could be something i don't have the luxury of ignoring while i tune into the third episode of grey's anatomy for the day.

oh world peace. how do we find you?

20 years later

i stumbled across this article this morning... after a week of reading and listening to conversations about what the anniversary means (or does not mean) to people around me.

click here to read the article, which does a nice job summarizing what i've heard in the time we've been here.

hi everyone.

i am still alive.

time is still moving.

i haven't much to say other than my patience is waning.

coming off an (almost) two week flu vacation that was much-needed and has made me completely stir crazy.

making tortillas and cookies and pumpkin bread to fill time and exploring the logistics of bulgarian fuses/fuse boxes in more depth than i care to.

thanks for your continued support. i am not sure if i have much more to say here about this experience.

i suppose only time will tell... and right now time is passing by quietly, leaving me feeling silent as well.

love from me to you all.

sofia

my head is awash in a deliberate smattering of songs coming from the tiny mp3 player on my lap. lush colors of fall blur together as my train scoots ever closer to sofia. i head to the big city for a lazy afternoon of reassembling myself, alone and anonymous. i am without a schedule and i revel in the spacious freedom of this friday.

quite unlike the previous year, my mind enjoys the luxury of aimless wander. unstructured time is spent self-replenishing, rather than merely surviving, and often directs my thoughts to a hodgepodge of musings.

the musing du jour is a disconnect i feel between bulgaria and what i characterize as "europe." i'm regularly remiss in reminding myself i do, in fact, live in europe. it's just that... well, bulgaria simply lacks that quintessential je ne sais quoi of my (admittedly) superficial "real" european characerizations. defined narrowly in the context of one "euroadventure '05," a two week rapid fire tour of (mostly) western europe (which was lovely anyhow), the strict confines of my version of europe have yet to extend their reaches to the land of the bulgs.

emanating from that trip are crisp images of jagged swiss alps and fondue-filled villages below them; pristine hillsides and impossibly blue lakes; filthy underground metros in rome and fancy water poured from mesmerizing sapphire glass bottles, haunting facades of blackened stone structures in prague; quaint buildings and colorful villages, "gas" water and gelato every 20 meters; european cars ("tent on wheels") crammed one behind the other on every street; sidewalk, in every parking lot and alley.

comparatively speaking, bulgaria is relatively devoid of such ubiquitously european denotations, almost hopelessly so . a friend who dares to explore bulgaria comments,

"in no way does it feel like europe here," when i probe for her opinion.

"is it the sidewalks? you can be honest," i offer. the sidewalks here deserve their time in the spotlight. perhaps only in bulgaria is one able to plunge one's foot into a well-disguised reservoir of filth water whilst advising a clueless friend to mind "sketchy-looking" concrete sidewalk squares, as they often lead to unexpected surprises.

"no," she continues. "it's not the sidewalks, or the food, or even the claustrophobia of sofia. it's just..." she trails off in thought.

it's just not europe, i tell myself as i silently release colorful expletives at having to march along with a wet foot.

********

i sit patiently as i am whisked off to sofia. i return to pondering my efforts to join bulgaria and europe, seeing them now to be a tactic of repressing my unassailable homesickness. while bulgaria as a whole is decidedly un-european, i conclude, sofia, in all of its quirkiness and pretentious disdain, is my primary connection; it is the most quintessentially european place available under my narrow limitations.

if you need me in the next 9 months, i will be in sofia, vacationing with my replenishing self and drowning in my music until i no longer have to endeavor to find home.

by then, i will simply have arrived there.

lost in a daydream

a list of current daydream fodder...

*warm rice huddled around an oozing bean, chicken and melted cheese and sour cream amalgamation all conveniently wrapped together for my eating pleasure and stuffed in a foil shell for the interim of time between the debit card swipe and the first savory bite... oh chipotle, you'd better still be waiting for me after all this time.

*cruising down an eight-laned monstrosity, sunroof cast open, music darting through the air, a clutch underfoot and nowhere to be.

*a weekend in vegas, including me acting as a chopstick puppeteer over a porcelain plate of raw fish and avocado, slowly sipping at my go-to "kahunaville fog drink" affectionately known for its clouds of dry ice skirting across the surface of far too much alcohol, and, not least, indulging in one of cirque du soleil's haunting and otherworldly escapes before staring down at the bellagio fountains as choreographed water dances before my tipsy eyes. i imagine that doesn't actually happen in bellagio, italy, but i'm willing to suspend my disbelief as i blow my readjustment allowance watching fancy mechanical fountains to elvis presley.

*days and weeks and months of reminding myself this really happened.

*max! my little white woof woof who barks at me on skype as if to remind me he's not forgotten me. adorable, personified.

*an abhorrently huge heaven of a bed draped with a feathery duvet and elastic, fitted sheets.

*scouring every european market within miles and miles of my stateside landing spot to secure a source of bulgarian-esque feta cheese and yoghurt for routinely scheduled consumption.

*the prospect of zero additional thought dedicated to the topics of "cultural integration" and "intentional relationship building" and actual, genuine interest in doing that because my little heart desires to.

*crawling into warm clothes fresh out of a dryer with just the faintest hint of a lavender vanilla aroma.

*and furthermore, embracing snuggly, plush towels that haven't morphed into sand paper from two cycles of: wash, rinse, air dry, repeat.

*heavy and deliberate attention focused on the subject of re-integrating into the world of long hours, entirely too friendly people, $1 bins of amazing and irresistible junk at target, alternating chick-fil-a milkshake and lemonade runs, slow customer service systems, summer dips in a legit outdoor swimming pool, bona fide margaritas and to that end, mexican food, boulder's half fast sub splendor, an afternoon in north boulder park with said splendor, gumming salt water taffy from estes park to death while in the middle of a big lake sluggishly paddle boating around, running laps around washington park and 30-minute meals on the food network.

*how many people can i squeeze in on my "she rekindles long lost friendships tour" of the states with future used car before obligatory employment robs all such liberties from me.

*knoxville, frederich maryland, northern california, portland, seattle, new orleans, new york, d.c., and of course, disney world...this being my ever growing list of tour pit stops.

*paris. my comically atrocious french. enough said.

*hugs for each and every person who kept up with me during this roller coaster ride.