In 18 days, I'll finally have a life again.

I love my time at home with my family but I'm not a small town person and I absolutely disagree with my father's sentiment that family is all you need in life. I know he's had his own difficulties in life but my friends are invaluable to me. They're kind of an extension of family but I get to choose them. 

But amongst all my excitement, I admit I'm also terrified. Starting a life all over again is an ordeal and a half. It's a new culture, I don't know ANYONE, I don't know the city, etc. It took me a while to start to get used to things in Czech. I spent about 2 years there and I didn't find a good friend until I was about ready to leave. It got really lonely for me at times and I'm really thankful for those friends and family members that kept me company. 

And I know things will be fine in Russia and I needn't worry. I make friends easily enough (really good friends are a different story but here's hoping), I'll go for walks around the city and learn my way around, and I'll start to get used to the culture. I'm more capable of these things than I sometimes give myself credit for. But I'm hoping now that I've done it once already, it will be a little easier the second time around. 

You'd think being a literature major would make you better at interpreting symbolism in your dreams.

I guess that's why I switched my career. I've been spending a lot of time on dream interpretation websites.  I rarely remember my dreams but I've been having really vivid ones about every other night for the past couple weeks. I take it as too many things are on my mind and my subconscious and body are screaming at me to pay attention to these things. I dreamt of two things last night.

1) Bath bomb/bath fizzy - I dreamt that I was cleaning my room and one rolled right out in front of me. I like to buy bath bombs from Lush as a little celebration to me. I used to buy them once or twice a month since they're a little expensive. I'd go home, lock myself in the bathroom much to the dismay of my flatmates and spend an hour or two soaking in the tub, watching a movie and not caring about anything. I worry about things I have no control over, about how people perceive me, about people whom I'm unsure reciprocate my attachment. I think my body and mind are telling me to relax and just focus on me and not anyone or anything else (within reason, of course). I need to relax, be me, and not care about those who don't accept me.

2) K - My childhood friend. My Jamaican. I mention her as K because I'm not sure how she feels about privacy. She was one of my best friends growing up and as far as I know her parents still live a few streets down. It's been quite a few years since I've contacted her and I'm not really sure how to get in contact with her since I think she lives in Boston now and I feel strange going to her parents house and saying, "Hi, where's your daughter?" But anyway, it made me realize how much I miss her friendship and how terrible I am at keeping in touch with people. I think it stems from my aversion to talking on the telephone. Anyway, I'm trying to get better at it and I'd really like to see her.

Dreams are funny things.

America. Racism and other prejudice. Why I feel like a foreigner in my own country.

A foreign friend told me he didn't understand why Americans were so sensitive to racism. I know him to make somewhat racist jokes and it's a part of his culture but I know he doesn't really believe these things.  But I think what he doesn't understand is how much racism is still so involved with violence and injustice in this country. Take a look at what's happening in Ferguson, MO. It's only one example of violence because of racism. We claim to be such a progressive country but we still suffer from this same disease that has plagued us since the founding of this country. We don't believe in protecting our own people. We don't believe that our own people are even our own people.

When things like Ferguson happen, it reminds me that even though I have white skin, I'm also Muslim and therefore seen as a foreigner and immigrant as therefore seen as something less or something to be scared of even though I'm educated, polite, dressed nicely, etc. It makes me scared to raise a family here. It makes me scared for my father who has darker skin and has had more than his fair share of abuse both physical and non-physical. It makes me always nervous around police and feel like I have to put on a loud show of being extra nice and friendly because I don't want them to jump to insane conclusions because I'm not smiling. I think what my friend doesn't realize is that in this country, you are never safe.

The struggle to believe in something.

First, I applied for schools in Korea. I got so overwhelmingly stressed and decided to apply for jobs elsewhere. I got a job in Kazan, Russia but then the school started experiencing financial strain because of the political and economic situation in Russia and they had to withdraw their offer of employment. I got overwhelmingly stressed again. I talked to my family, my friends, I cried, I got stress headaches, I went running to relieve my stress like I normally do but nothing really quite helped. That Friday I went to Jummah salah at the masjid and I spoke with my friend Hafsah. I told her what happened and she just shrugged it off and said, "Allah is the best of planners." I felt so calm and relieved as soon as she said it.

It's hard to remain positive and look on the other end of things when things don't go as you plan. As a Muslim, one of the biggest jihads is just having faith that Allah knows best for you. But really this expands to all humans, Muslim and non-Muslim alike. And for those of my friends and readers who aren't Muslim or even dislike the idea of religion, bear with me. I know it's incredibly difficult to believe in something you can't see, don't have a written agreement with, can't speak to, etc. It's hard to see the wisdom behind certain things in your life. I recently got another job in Russia but this time in St. Petersburg. The Muslim community is not as large there and I worry because I contacted one brother and he said neither he nor his wife were sure of any English-speaking Muslims there. Again, I tell myself, "Allah is the best of planners." I know He would not send me to a place without some plan of something good for me. During a period of doubt in my life, I went to Czech Republic, a largely atheistic country and happened to be placed in a city where they have one of I think three known mosques in the entire country. It was a small community but it changed me in so many ways. In my opinion, I think that in itself was a sign and one that I admit, moves me to tears, which isn't really that difficult but it something I feel so strongly about. So as long a my paperwork goes smoothly, I will be in St. Petersburg in January insha Allah, ready and waiting to see what is in store for me.

Stuck in the system.

Volunteering is something I want to do. I love helping. Paying student loans is something I do not want to do but I have to do and therefore I cannot work for free.

I just got an email from this nonprofit organization created by alumni of my alma mater that guides students and graduates to managing their money and paying student loans. YES. Thank you. Someone cares. It's so overwhelming to try to manage finances when you are trying to manage so many other things. There's professional development, social life development, love life development, personal interests and hobbies, trying to figure out taxes, etc.

On this site, I read about one organization that helps people pay off their student debts while volunteering. WHAT?! YES. Because this is all I ever want to do in life. Sadly, it's limited to Washington D.C., Chicago, and Philly but maybe if I come back for my master's degree I could find something because who knows where I'll end up.

Labels are tricky, sticky things that some people just want to cut off.

And that's fine. I watched a clip of Raven-Symoné's interview with Oprah and I'm quite astonished that she's received so much backlash. I understand people's desire to identify with a single culture that but why does that have to extend over an entire skin color? If Raven-Symoné doesn't feel she really identifies as an "African-American" and rather just as an American, okay that's totally understandable. I don't go around calling myself an English-French Canadian-Native American-Indonesian-Chinese-Dutch-American. And my family is so nomadic by nature that I'm sure that's not the end of it. It's too complicated to go into what a lot of us are especially when many Americans like myself don't even know their whole ethnic background.

Labels are tricky. It would be nice to live in a world where people didn't lump you into one group but people are going to do what people are going to do. I dream of the day when I can say "I'm Muslim" and people don't think I'm strict and serious or oppressed. But I think RS is right in her self-identification. Personally, I'm a lot of things, I'm not just one. Some of it's contradictory but hey, being human is complicated.

Sleepless in Springfield.

How long can one stare at the dimly lit shadows of your childhood bedroom before your mind and body give up out of sheer boredom? Apparently a long time. There's just too much on my mind lately. I have been stressing out over this job situation. I've been waiting for 3 months for South Korea and I just don't know if it will pay off. I started applying to other positions a couple weeks ago and I've been offered a position in Russia. I don't know if I should take it. I've wanted to go to Russia for a long time now but I have put so much time, money, and energy into SK that I want to feel it's worth something. Plus I would really like to go back to school. SK would help me get there a lot faster even though I think I would much rather enjoy Russia.

You know that question people ask about changing one thing about yourself? I wish I could be less emotional. I know I shouldn't say things like that but I really do. I can't help it. It's like a wave that consumes you and you don't know how to swim so you struggle until it washes you ashore. I really wish that sometimes I could switch off my emotion center of my brain and not care or at least be better at hiding my emotions. I would sleep so much easier.

I really do feel like Kolya sometimes. A lost, helpless little kid who doesn't understand anything about the real world. Maybe it's just because I'm still in my childhood bedroom.

When times stops.

My Uncle Endang passed away today. He was in a motorcycle accident recently, got a concussion, was in a coma, and seemed to be doing okay and then just wasn't.

I don't know how to react in situations like this. When some conversation leads to the air suddenly leaving the room. My muscles are stunned into a blank space. Everything turns blinding white. I don't know what to do or what to say. Sometimes I cry, but mostly I just need to feel something solid underneath my feet and I leave.

I panic.

Binge-eating Cheddar Bunnies

I am so nervous about all this paperwork for South Korea and I'm taking it out of these poor, defenseless creatures.

I sent out my "red documents" today and my recruiter emailed me about public school positions starting in November and December. Great except I need 2 letter of recommendation plus a "PTE" (Proof of Teaching Experience). I have one letter of recommendation but it doesn't have a professional letter head. A public school position would be ideal but I realize given the timing of my application, a public school position is unlikely. This is why this is an amazing, rare opportunity. I emailed people about the letters but I don't know how likely it is to get a response in time. I can't even concentrate on studying Spanish right now. Blergh

The definitions of words.

I'm turning 26 tomorrow. It's a weird feeling getting older. It's not a bad feeling, to be quite honest, I get more and more excited about life the older I get. I know we have this idea that getting older is a sign of weakness. I know plenty of people still clinging to the invincibility they felt in their teenage years, trying to relive "the glory days" of their youth but I guess my youth was not that glorious. But getting older, nonetheless, is strange. I feel like by now I should be able to call myself an adult. By society rules and laws of being considered a dependent on your parent's medical insurance and car rental agreements, I'm an adult. But I don't necessarily feel that way. I guess I still believe the idea of mid-twenties as it was seen fifty or more years ago. That I should be settled in a career, starting a family and such. I'm not as bothered by it as I used to be but I still wonder if I can consider myself an adult-- a self-sufficient, fully functional human being of society. But if I think about the realistically these days, when do you ever stop needing help? I realize this ties into a much larger discussion about community and society and helping one another, but where is that line?

I guess I'm feeling this way since I've been home without a job and my parents are supporting and throwing me some pity money so I don't go to crazy with cabin fever.

Maybe I feel better once I start working again, have my own medical insurance and can afford to pay my bills without having an panic attack about money, I'll rest a little easier.

Trying to remember why my memories were so great.

Being back in Boston has been a weird experience. It's been great seeing old friends but it feels like so much has changed. I feel like I don't belong here anymore. I thought I missed it so much but I guess in comparison with my life over the past couple years, my world has expanded so greatly that Boston seems to be a little blip. I guess the question that remains is: where do I belong?

I'm ready to head to South Korea and keep looking.

Hormigas en mi culo. Ants in my...you know where.

I know I must be very frustrating to my family and friends. They should know by now that I've never been one to sit still. I can't stand being in one place for too long with the same people for too long. I get uncomfortable, agitated, and feel trapped. I guess you could call it something like cabin fever. I think spending so much time at home all the time when I was a kid made me this way. But actually I've always been like this. Ever since I was a kid I was always wandering off and doing things on my own. It terrified my parents, of course, but I did it regardless. I need to be somewhere I have a lot of freedom. Freedom to walk, freedom to explore on my own, freedom to see friends when I want to, not according to anyone's schedule but mine and my friend's. I guess in that way I'm selfish. It's not personal to anyone. I feel this way with everyone and everywhere. I need my me time and me time doesn't just mean being by myself. It means mental and physical distance not just from people but from a place.

I wonder what this means for any potential suitors. That what I always think of when someone inquires about me (for marriage, I mean). For example, an older guy asked my father about whether I would be interested in him or not. Age aside, I know my personality is too crazy to settle down in quiet little Western Massachusetts. If I were to marry a man settled in a place like this I think I might actually go crazy and make married life hell. I itch to move, I want to run. I always like being somewhere I know I can easily leave. I can't help but need to always have something new. I need someone who can keep up because I can't slow down. Just because I seem so flighty doesn't mean my absence is permanent, as long as there are people I love, I always come back. 

It's just who I am. 

Rocket launchers and sailboat crew.

This summer my older sister Kyla asked me to take care of her 1-year-old son, Anas, a few days a week since the babysitter requested Ramadan off. The boy is cuter than a box of puppies and I wanted to help out around the house so of course I agreed to fulfilling my aunt duties. I did, however, have my hesitations. I've taught children before and made sure they didn't injure themselves or each other for 45-minutes once a week but I've never cared for a single child for an entire morning.

"Don't worry," Kyla said. "I'll be up to feed him breakfast and then you can get him dressed and play with him, give him snacks when he asks for them." Those issues were the farthest from my mind. Dressing a kid, I can do. I tell my students all the time to put their shirts back on and to pull up their pants and help with the occasional shoe. Playing with a kid...that's my job. Giving him snacks...I can cut grapes and pour out peanuts and cheerios. I was not worried about that part. The diaper changing and my gag reflex when it comes to human feces and the constant crying and trying to put a less-than-willing toddler down for a nap were all different stories.

The first day was okay minus the fact that I forgot to change him out of his pajamas all day. Worse things could have happened. Days passed by and I found his unending energy was a lot to handle while fasting and trying to feel awake at 8:30 in the morning with my usual caffeinated aid. I tried my hardest nonetheless, finding games to play that both of us could enjoy equally. The Sleeping Game is a favorite of mine. I "pretend" to fall asleep, as does he, and within a minute or two the silence is too much and he squeals out of delight and we start the game all over again. I also enjoy pulling him around on his tricycle outside and making pitstops at pretend shops around town so aunty can catch her breath and not overexert herself while fasting in the the humid New England summer.

Last weekend, my younger sister came home for a visit. Amber and I are close so I was excited to see her but a little someone was way more excited to see her. As soon as she came home, all you could hear were shouts of "Aunty Bee! Aunty Ambee!" No more shouts and giggles of "Aunty Ah-wee?" No more interest in popping his head in my room, ogling me and then running out of the room giggling. My hug requests were rejected. My lego ships were uninteresting. My attempts at Little Piggies were denied and requested by another. It was the longest weekend of abandonment. I sought solace in my room and books and in the company of other members of our family. I should have learned through countless experiences by now not to get too attached to people.

The weekend came and went and Amber went back to her apartment in Boston and I was faced with the challenge of trying to be an rational adult and still do my best job as caretaker. I decided to take Anas out for a few walks so he didn't bother my sleeping father and brother-in-law too much. I got him dressed after an agonizing 45 minutes of trying to convince him to eat his breakfast, packed some snacks, put on some baby sunblock and headed out into the neighborhood. I took him around as he named everything he could remember, avoiding holding my hand to point out things and ask what they were. He pointed out the beautiful flowers and the various fascinating bugs, waved to school buses and acknowledged each animal "over there." We arrived home later and my father put him down for his nap.

I took a break to take a nap myself and later in the evening when my mother and sister came home from work, I woke Anas up to greet his favored family members. I collapsed on the couch next to my mother as my Kyla went downstairs. Anas climbed on the couch in between us. He went over to nana, fell onto her, hugging her and said, "I love you, nana." Just stab me in the heart. Then he got up, turned to me and collapsed on me, hugging me and said, "I love you, Aunty Ah-wee." My exhaustion faded and I said, "I love you too, Munchkin." He got up from my lap, turned toward his nana and repeated the hugging and "I love you" process between the two of us four times for good measure before scampering off to find his trucks.

Talking to yourself is encouraged here.

When I decided to give teaching a try I wondered to myself if I was giving up on my dreams of writing. I'm still not completely 100% sure if that's what I've done but I don't think so. I think when I decided that I wanted to be a writer it was because the only thing I ever felt I was slightly better than mediocre at was english and baking. Baking is a hard sell because there are so many bakeries out there and I didn't know if I would have the guts to go forward with that dream so I stuck with english because it seemed like the safer choice. And what else to do with the english language than become a writer?

After feeling disappointed with myself and the quality of my writing in comparison to my classmates around me who were writing stories constantly and writing really well in my opinion I felt myself really slipping away from my love of writing and even my love of reading. I constantly felt like giving up and my stories were too sappy and emotional and that's not who I was. Or who I am, I should say. I remember riding my bike to my internship at a magazine in Boston and feeling like, "I can't do this. I'm nowhere good enough." There are several times in my life when I wish there was someone or something, some little creature that could sense my emotions without me saying so (because I bottle things) and know that I just needed a little push of encouragement. Or even to tell me, "Okay, it's not working out, don't freak out, maybe your path needs a little adjusting, a little detour." Of course such people do exist but who ever heard of opening up to people and reaching out for a little guidance? That's just not the way we do things here. But I figured things had to start moving because I felt like I had been standing still for too long.

So I got offered a job overseas about a month after completing my teaching course, crossed my fingers and headed off to a small city in the middle of Europe where I didn't know anyone, didn't know the language and had no clue as to what I was doing. I still feel that way after two years. I know a few more people and I'm trying to improve my language skills but I still wonder, "What the hell am I doing? Is this actually going to be my life?" I wonder if I'm a good teacher, a good friend, a good daughter, a good potential wife and a good sister let alone being a good writer. But I haven't given up writing and trying to figure it out so I guess my alternate route isn't so bad. I know people tell young adults all the time that bull about it taking a long time to figure out what you want to do and that's it's okay and you should take your time. That's okay if you're rich and have people taking care of you. But for those who can't afford to take that much time to "find themselves" we kind of have to pick one thing we're kind of good at, try to improve ourselves and cross our fingers that we haven't made a horrible choice.

Sometimes when I'm neck-deep in kindergarteners and asking myself, "Can I do this?" I think, "Well, you seem infinitely happier than the past several years so I'd say that's a plus."

There isn't much "beo" in "Beograd" but just white is boring anyway.

I’m finally home in the U.S. It’s been a great two years. I just returned from a trip to Serbia to visit one of my favorite people in the world, my crazy comrade, Mladen Mojsilovic. I was a little skeptical about going down because of the country’s history and I didn’t know how I would be perceived as a Muslim and an American. But Mladen’s love for his country is really inspiring to me and so I just had to check out what all the fuss was about. After a week I could really understand why he feels so strongly. Belgrade actually felt like a proper city. My feelings about Czech Republic are rather mixed. One reason being the cities don’t feel like real cities to me. They’re extremely beautiful but they’re missing this life, this soul. It’s like walking through a museum. It’s really nice to look at but where are the people, the stories, the dirt? And Prague is so full of drunk tourists on the weekends that it can lose its charm.

I took a train from Pardubice to Budapest on Saturday morning. I had six hours to kill so I went walking around the city. I didn’t get as far as I wanted because carrying around such a huge bag when you’re so small can really exhausting. I ended up resting a café until sunset when I headed to the bus station. My bus was scheduled to depart at 11 p.m. and by 10:55 I was a little nervous the bus wouldn’t show up and then I would be stranded in Budapest with no place to stay and end up wandering the streets. I met some other people waiting for the same bus including a woman who was born and raised in Belgrade and currently living in Vienna. She said the bus was infamous for being late but at 11:00 on the dot, the Fudeks bus came racing around the corner. The bus driver didn’t speak any English so the woman translated for me. I was a little nervous about interacting with him because he seemed so annoyed with everything but he turned out to be a really nice guy and made everyone coffee or tea who wanted it. I sat next to a really nice with whom I chatted the entire way. He gave me recommendations of what to see and where to go in Belgrade. We reached the border at around 2:30 a.m. and we all had to get out of the bus and walk through the drive-thru border control on the Hungarian side. Of all the things to be doing at 2:30 in the morning when it’s around 40 degrees Fahrenheit outside and you’re extremely tired, that has to be one of the top 5. When we got to the Serbian side, the police quickly came on the bus to take our passports and within a few minutes we were back on the road. I arrived in Belgrade around 5 and Mladen was waiting for me at the station. We met a few friends of his who were on their way home from a night of dancing and stopped for a quick chat and then headed off to get some Borek and yogurt for breakfast.  After we were full and happy we headed to a flat that Mladen’s best friend lends to him when he wants to stay in Belgrade.

Over the next few days Mladen took me around to Kalamegda Park, downtown touristic area, his old univsity, Ada (where they have a beach and large park), ate lots of delicious fish and kebabs, went to his hometown of Čačak (which apparently I am still pronouncing incorrectly) where his mother prepared some amazingly delicious food, met tons of his friends, went to a basketball game of Partizan versus Red Star that I think left me terrified of going to basketball games in Serbia, went to concert, had an amazing barbecue at our friend Pajic’s place. Everyone was so incredibly welcoming and friendly. Even on the bus home, the old Serbian woman sitting next to me was forcing cheese and bread on me and paid my bathroom fare at the rest stop since I was out of dinars. I really love the sense of caring and community that I think Czech Republic and a lot of the U.S. tend to lack. I felt so overwhelmed with their generosity. I feel like I can understand my friend a little more as well. I think if I could find a job in Belgrade, I would move there in a heartbeat.

But for now, it’s time to start on my paperwork for South Korea. I am not so sure what to expect from living out there but I hope it will be just as exciting as my past two years in Europe.

Adjusting.

Trying to open yourself up to someone is like trying to open a door stuck on rug with the corners curled up.

I don't know if it will ever go smoothly. I don't know if it's supposed to.

On Tuesdays We Have English Class.

Talking about religion is complicated for me. It's been a path of ups and downs, certainty and doubt and it's a conversation I usually save for only those who are sailing the same ship. But a few months ago, a student asked me, "Ariana, you...um...God?" She put her finger to her head and then put her palms together in prayer. I paused and looked at her quizzically. "Do I believe in God?" I asked. She nodded. I continued to look at her. Of everyone in my life, I have never been prompted such a question. It comes up in conversation with adults because these things come up. But this wasn't an adult. It was an 8-year-old girl. Living in a largely atheistic country. I can't even imagine what could have happened during her day or what had been going on in her life for her to ask me this. Perhaps she felt her life was missing something and she was seeking some answers. It could have been that her class was studying world religions and cultures in school. Or maybe she was searching for some justification for the feeling of abandonment when things in life just didn't get better. But she's 8 so maybe she just heard the word mentioned in stories like the ones they hear about Ježišek and St. Mikulaš. Whatever the cause, I continued to look at her. I wondered how I should answer. I didn't want to overstep any bounds with parents. I didn't want to try to untangle the knotted mess of my own feelings while trying to teach 3rd graders how to express their own. I didn't want to lie. The class was quiet, hanging on my answer. My student straightened her posture and put her hands out, offering me my answer. "Yes?" She squeaked. I looked at her. "Yes, I do."

Hitting the ground walking at a fast yet steady pace.

I'm back from Istanbul and it was amazing. I miss living in a large city so much. I'm actually seriously considering teaching in Turkey for the next year. I think it would be a bit easier than living in Czech Republic. Czech is a great country but when the water is more expensive than the beer and pork is in everything on the menu and people aren't too keen on a Muslim teaching their children, I think I would be more comfortable somewhere else. Don't get me wrong, people have gotten to know me and are used to me but to those who don't know me, it can be a little off-putting. I really love my job here, my students are a handful but great. The 2nd grade pilot program has been going especially well although I think a different textbook would serve them better.

Anyway, I'm back to work and I'm trying to bring myself to apply for new jobs. I'm trying to focus on South Korea, Japan, and Turkey. I've actually even been considering going back home in a few years and maybe try to become state-certified to teach. There were some job postings in New York City and San Francisco that would be pretty cool. Living abroad has made me realize just how American I am and how much I love my home. I'm sure if I lived abroad long enough I would get used to a place but for me, the skyscrapers and the rush of the city and the familiarity, it's where I thrive. Who knows what's in the future?

Teacher, Entertainer, Boo-boo healer.

I love my job for the silly things I get to do. I realize it's strange that for me, growing up meant acting like a kid. I had to stop trying so hard and let things come naturally. There was second grader in my class who hit his head pretty hard on the board and started crying. I went over to him to make sure he was okay but I feel really helpless not speaking the language to be able to comfort him more so I pretended to inspect him (take his pulse, check his ears and his eyes), then I put my hand on his forehead and yelled, "ABRACADABRA ABRACADABRA BOOM!" and he and the class started to laugh. Then I told everyone to also say it so all the second graders yelled, "ABRACADABRA ABRACADABRA BOOM!" I asked him if he felt okay and he nodded and smiled and wiped away his tears. It felt so great to cheer him up like that.

Looking at all colors on the spectrum and even the blended bits in between.

It's been a crazy busy few weeks since I've come back from holiday. I'm trying to apply for new jobs, do my taxes, do my current work, read, study, etc. The days are far too short and I spend too much time at the computer. Even when I take breaks, they are at a computer but at least I get to chat with someone I enjoy, like my friend Mladen. We were discussing the Olympic opening ceremony in Sochi. I missed quite a bit of it due to my inability to find a good connection (and maybe my inability to stay awake while laying on a bed in a warm room). But there are of course some things that couldn't be missed. For example, the conditions for athletes, the whole anti-gay propaganda law and the mishap with one of the rings during the opening ceremony. I also stumbled across a fake Facebook film for President Putin. It gave me a chuckle but my friend seemed a little more bothered by it. I don't like to get too much into politics since I'm far from an expert and it's also not exactly the whole point of my post but I think people tend to blow things out of proportion. The media keeps portraying Putin and Russia as this mysterious, crazy evil force threatening our current way of life. Doesn't this sound all too familiar? Feminists, Muslims, homosexuals, the list goes on. There will always be some "evil" that "the good guys" must protect the world against. We can't allow ourselves to be so blind. I'm not saying the Russian president is without fault but we can't just assume we are the good guys and everyone else who goes against our ideas are bad. Without getting too much more into creating political debate, my point here is this: we usually create our own villains. There are some things that are universally agreed to be bad but for the most part things are not so black and white. I was thinking about this because I called someone a bad friend because I felt they were being really rude and unfair. After calming down and thinking about things I realized I didn't really understand what was going on. In some cases even if I try to understand, I just can't. Then who's the insensitive jerk? We're not perfect and we never will be because we are incredibly biased beings but we can at least try to do better. We need to open our eyes, read, think, try to understand and don't just follow something because we don't want to appear uninformed.

Anyway, I enjoyed what I did see of the ceremony. I did get a chuckle about someone's theory that the ring mishap was a big "screw you" to the U.S. since that ring once-upon-a-time represented the American continent.

In other news: I'm going to Istanbul! Rini and I booked our tickets yesterday.