In the next year

I know renouncing New Year's resolutions is like the thing to do, but most years I not only make, but at least attempt to stick to them. The reason being because I'm really terribly anal retentative and I work well with goals. After all the year I made the New Year's resolution to quit smoking and increase both the length and intensity of my runs I did. I felt awesome, I looked pretty good and I did myself a world of good. So there.

1. Start grad school
2. Workout 4-5 times per week consistently
3. Stop criticizing myself so fucking much
4. Take a Excel or Access Basics class
5. Take a Pilates/Boxing/Kickboxing class
6. Take off 10 lbs.

Another reason why I love resolutions is because it allows me to be challenge and compete against myself, which, in my opinion is so much more entertaining that getting into some bitchy pissing match with someone else. That, and I have a big problem with jealousy (wow, look at me drag all my skeletons out of the closet for the whole world to see), so competing with another person and then losing makes me feel horribly about myself.

It'll be interesting see where I am with this stuff this time next year.

Calling the ex

I broke down and called NCS today to find out about a job. No, I'm not super thrilled about the prospect of going back to the very same job I had before I left Iowa for Ukraine. In fact, the idea of sitting and starring at a screen reading the same fucking essay for 8+ hours a day makes me cringe, but I can suck it up for a couple of months and do it. I came to this conclusion after I recieved the one-two punch of my credit card bill and my student loan bill yesterday.

In theory I could probably get by with not working until I head out to Pittsburgh, but I'm afraid I'll end up getting absolutely nothing done without something else to do. This is how I work. If I don't have anything to do I sit on my ass, if I have a lot to do I manage to get everything done: I workout, I see my friends, I write, I read, and sometimes, if I'm feeling particuliarly ambitious, I even take a class or two. Thus, I decided it's a good idea if I get as much done as possible between Feburary and when I hopefully head of to Carnegie Mellon in mid-May. Now, I just have to get that fucking essay done. And retake the GREs. And revamp my resume.

Other than obsessing about grad school I've been thinking a lot about contacting some people I was "friends" with in Iowa City way back when I was in a miserable relationship and terribly frustrated with my life. For most people this would be a no-brainer: contact the friends, re-establish old bonds, stay on good terms with everyone. The problem is I'm not so sure I consider those people my friends. I mean, I have a big problem with all the shit that was talked about me when I was in Ukraine regarding some, uh, rather inappropriate things I said about my ex-boyfriend's then girlfriend. That and I'm not sure I have that much in common with those people any more. What the fuck are we going to talk about? Honestly, I have this vision of me talking about Ukraine with one of these people and then, once we've parted, they'll go on and on to a mutual aquaintance about how I all I talked about was Ukraine (which I've been very conscious of NOT doing since I arrived home). I hate that that's a very real possibility. I hate the fact that I'm twenty-nine and what people who aren't really my friends think of me actually matters. I hate that I'm already so lonely that, despite my misgivings, I'm considering calling one of them.

I am, however, going to call Jason. He may not know it, he may not like it, but he is going to talk to me, if only to tell me he never wants to hear from me again. I need to get some shit off my chest that I've been thinking about for the last 2 years and I need to just fucking say it and get it over with. I'm not sure which I'm more afraid of: him wanting to talk to me or him telling me I'm a horrible person and he never wants to see me again. One thing's for sure, no matter what I'm not going to let him blame me for his alcoholism or his ability to get his shit together and do any number of things he said he wanted to do. That's a burden I won't bare.

Maintaining my sanity

Given how bored I've been over the last few days I've decided I definately need to look into getting a job once I get all my grad school apps in. I cannot spend the next four months blogging, looking for a good digital camera and reading David Sedaris. I'll go insane. I'm already starting to go insane.

Everytime I find myself in a position where I've got a good deal of time on my hands I always promise myself I'm going to read like a mad woman. Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamozov, as well as countless other classics, are routinely in my top ten books I-really-should-read-but- haven't-managed- to-quite-yet list. I feel like I'm a bad Russian Studies major for having read so few Russian classics--other than Crime and Punishment I'm not sure I've even read any other novels by Dostoevsky. I've read a shit ton of short stories by Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, but the novels I've just never made the time for.

But I digress. I think I'm finally going to skip promising myself I'm going to read a lot and just get my applications in and do some stupid temp job reading essays at NCS. It's a shitty job but, well, it pays okay and it will allow me a fair amount of free time in which I can workout, study some Russian and freak out about not getting into grad school.

Frenzy

This whole multi-colored blog entry thing is probably going to get pretty annoying, but fuck it--it's my blog and I'll do what I like. It's not like anyone I know is reading this.

A couple of entries back I mentioned that since I arrived in the U.S. I've had this overwhelming need to buy shit. Some of its shit I don't need but really want (like cool argyle socks), and some is shit I actually do need,like clothes. You see, I look like a bum wearing the stuff I wore in Ukraine--you try hand washing all your clothes for two years in really bad brown colored water and see what it does to your Gap stretch pants.

Nevertheless, I'm starting to feel guilty about shopping. Aren't I suppose to be better than all this insane consumerism around me? Is marketing in the U.S. so mesmerizing that it can lure even the most resistant of us in? I'm usually so good at seeing through marketing and advertising campaigns. Before I left for Peace Corps I never gave into this shit. I never bought CDs (I've bought 2 in the last week) or clothes (even when I needed them like I do now). If I had a weak spot for anything it was books.

So should I feel guilty? Or do I just give in and buy all the stuff I think I need: a new digital camera, a Dell computer (for grad school, if I get in), boots, more jeans and shirts, a few more CDs, and, of course, books, books, books? Will it really make me that much happier? Do I really need all this shit?

Blessed

I'm not one to get all religious on people. In fact, overtly religious people make me terribly uncomfortable--something I was reminded of on the plane from Paris to Chicago when the women I was talking to kept bringing up God and "the Lord"--primarily because I never know what to say. Should I tell them I'd rather not talk about my ambivilous feelings towards church and organized religion? Should I tell them my knowledge of religion is horribly inadequate (this was clearly illustrated when I had to ask Brian, a preacher's kid, some really basic questions about the Bible when we went to see Saint Peter's remains) and I'd rather not talk about anything concerning religion because I'm afraid I'm going to say something really stupid?

That being said I guess 'blessed' would be the best way to describe how I've felt since I arrived home. People have been so kind, so interested in everything that's been going on in my life over the last few months. Honestly, I'm a little surprised. I expected everyone to ask me questions, don't get me wrong, but I guess I just assumed everyone would want the 5 minute wrap up of the last 2 years of my life. Then again, I've really only seen Jake since I got back, who doesn't really qualify as "everyone". Nevertheless, most of the Cedar Rapidians I know are pretty pleased to see me and seemed interested in getting together for coffee and/or drinks.

So, at the risk of sounding too cheesy and feel goody, I feel really lucky. I feel blessed. I know people's patience with my stories will eventually wear off, but for now, I'm going to sit back and enjoy all the attention.

Minneapolis

We arrived home yesterday from Minnesota around 11 pm or so. I was beat seeing as how I got pretty damn drunk with Jake and his girlfriend, Tara, last night and didn't manage to get to bed until 3 am or so. Getting to bed so late wouldn't have been so bad except I had to get up early to go meet my fabulous friend Rosa at the Mall of America and was hungover. Being hungover and having shit to do isn't too horrible until you do something really stupid like go on a very bumpy car ride from one side of Minneapolis to another after taking an Ibuprofen on an empty stomach. This, of course,resulted in me getting sick all over the side of my mother's card and spend the rest of the day thinking about the puke that is frozen solid on the passenger side of the car. Classy.

Seeing Jake was awesome. I wasn't sure what it was going to be like seeing one of my friends after not seeing him for over a year, but it was fine. I was just happy to see him and really happy to see him happy. In fact, he seemed the happiest I've ever seen him.

Rosa was Rosa: smart, caring, and amazing. She and Brian are both people I think I'll stay in contact with for years, despite possibley not seeing them very often. I decided that once I get my graduate school applications in I'm going to head to Minneapolis to see her to celebrate. That means I should be back up there in late February.

Speaking of graduate school applications, I need to get started my essays and revamping my resume. It's funny; I haven't been struck with the self doubt that typical plagues me in situations that require me to take the first step toward doing something that will radically change my life. This could be interpreted one of two ways: either I must be really sure I'm doing exactly the right thing or (gasp) am actually gaining some self confidence.

As it stands I'm looking at 4 schools: Carnegie Mellon (in Pittsburgh), Marquette (Milwaukee), Brandeis (Boston), and the University of Minnesota. The first three all have Peace Corps Fellows programs. I think I'll definately get into the University of Minnesota and because I've been corresponding with an associate dean at CMU about their Fellows program I think I run a very good chance of getting into CMU. Up until about 4 weeks ago I was set on going there and then I got this e-mail about a program at Marquette and since then I've been reconsidering my options. I have a feeling if I get into both CMU and Marquette (and each offers me a good financial aid package) I'm going to end up sitting down with a pen and paper and literally making up a list of pros and cons for each and deciding that way. I hate making big decisions like that because I obsess over them and drive everyone around me fucking crazy. We'll see how it all plays itself out.

Touchdown

I'm home, for better or for worse. Yesterday was my first offical day on U.S. soil in a long time. Honestly, I can't say it was exceptional, or the amazing homecoming I had dreamed of. Although, I did have a friend call me on the phone and tell me how glad she was I was back (Ellen did this, of course, because she's awesome and I truly love her), which touched me and reminded me why we've been friends for so long.

Yesterday, when I tried to post this epistle about something that happened in the O'Hare airport with this skinny guy and a group of Japanese tourists, my computer shut off and I lost everything I had written (I might try to reconstruct that later). In that very same post I had mentioned that, other than the aforementioned incident, I hadn't really felt overwhelmed by anything. That was at the beginning of yesterday. Now, not even twenty four hours later, I can't make that same statement. I have been overwhelmed. By advertising.

I promise not to make this into one of those rants against advertising and marketing that I've read so often on blogs. I'm saving all rants for something incredibley stupid Bush will say or do, which I'm sure is coming in the next few days or weeks.

I will, however, say that I find it just a bit odd that before I left Ukraine I didn't feel like advertising played any sort of role in my life. Sure, Ukrainians are advertising targets just like anyone else, especially if they live in Kyiv and do things like take the metro or have internet at home. Here, in the U.S. though, I can't escape advertisments unless I lock myself in a dark room and unplug myself completely from the internet or television.

For example, before I arrived home I had made an internal list of the things I felt like I needed to buy in the next few months (hopefully before I head to graduate school in the summer/fall). It looked something like this:

1. winter shoes/boots
2. a pair or two of pants
3. 3 or 4 shirts
4. a cell phone (my first one)
5. a new laptop

Now, after one 45 minute trip to Lindale Mall and a 30 minute trip to Best Buy (where I purchased a Sigur Rose album), I feel as though I need the following:

1. a pair of winter boots
2. 2 pairs of jeans
3. a pair or two of pants
4. 4 or 5 shirts
5. 2 or 3 sweaters
6. a cell phone
7. a new laptop
8. an ipod
9. Victoria Secret perfume
10. 2 or 3 bras
11. new underwear
12. a shitload of CDs
13. a nice digital camera with at least 5 megapixels
14. hi speed internet

Isn't that sick? The really weird part was I was conscious of this consumer spell I was falling under and I just sort of passively let it happen. I left the mall to go pick up my mother more than a little sad and disappointed in myself. I want all this stuff now and none of it will make me happy. None of it will help me get into graduate school. None of it will make me feel attractive or help me take off those damn 10 pounds I put on in Ukraine. None of it will help me feel like I'm making a contribution to the world. In fact it makes me feel exactly the same way it did before I left: like a stupid vacant immature chubby underachieving lump of a 29 year-old.

I'm sure this feeling will only get more potent as I make my way to the Mall of America in Minneapolis where I'll be attending my cousin's wedding reception and hopefully spending some quality time with Jake and Rosa. We're even staying by the Mall of America. Maybe I'll drop by for some more assimilation.

Paris

I'm ready to go home. I think. I guess.

Tomorrow my little jaunt around Europe will end. I guess, in a sense, you could say my service will too, although I feel like it ended three weeks ago when I handed in my pink card and stepped on the plane in Kyiv. Leaving Pervomaisk was abrupt in a lot of ways; I simply exited everyone's life whether they cared or not. My arrival home will be a much less dramatic in a lot of ways, thank God.

Not sure why I'm doing this.....

I'm not sure why I decided to create this blog other than I've been thinking about it for a very long time. The way I see it I can use this as a tool for venting or readjusting to U.S. culture (which freaks me out far more than I'm willing to admit). That and I suspect some of my occasional bouts of rage and depression are a result of not feeling like I can really express myself. Or maybe its because I want to shame all the people who piss me off in my life (since, inevitabley, I will end up writing about them) to behave themselves or bear a merciless rant about their stupidity/unkindness/selfishness on this blog. Plus, I'm jumping on the bandwagon that everyone else jumped on long ago.

In fact I'm not even sure if I'm going to tell anyone of my friends I have a blog. I like the clandestine feel of writing without anyone I know knowing about it....Maybe one of my friends will find this, figure out its me and confront me about it. Wouldn't that be cool? Shit, who am I kidding? I'll probably end up telling JP or Brian by the end of the week.