Private Thoughts Made Public: Winter 06-07

Real-life journal adaptations meticulously typed, saved onto a flash drive, and posted later— the process which successfully served to placate one maddening bout of boredom on a stormy night in Kazakhstan.

November 21

“… Today is significant because it is (village)’s first snow of the year. Now it will be an even bigger mud-hole than it was before, but at the moment things are quite beautiful. This morning the walk to school was nice. I love the stifling quiet of snow falling around me…”

November 22

“… I slipped and fell in front of my students on the way to school this morning. No one laughed. No one offered to help me up, either. It was embarrassing, but somehow I think that I would have been more embarrassed had it happened back in the States. People crack me up here. There is no road maintenance, right? So it tends to ice over fairly quickly. But rather than walking on the sides of the road where the snow is thicker (and there is more traction so you’re less likely to eat it), folks practically tap dance along the slickest part of the path to get wherever they are going. I haven’t seen anyone else bust it yet…”

December 2

“Today I went to the city to check some email and pick up my mail. I received a package from Mimi that contained Halloween candy and No-Water-Needed shampoo. Saweeet! That will be interesting to try. I hope I remember to write about how it works.” [It just works. That’s all.] “It says on the bottle that it’s used by NASA— that’s pretty cool I guess… Man. I really should start doing some sit-ups or something. I’m gonna start looking my age before long…”

December 7

I think I’ve finally acclimated to this busy schedule. I’m not so stressed about things as I was.

32 hours teaching classes total; plus 2 hours a day walking to and from school; Approximately/as little as 3 hours a day planning lessons at home:
lesson plan: 7x3 = 21/ walk: 7x2= 14 = 35
total: 32+35= 67 hours per week.

Okay. Just did the math. I am a badass. That averages to around 13.3 hours in the 24 hour day for me to do whatever else I need to do, like sleep, eat, go to the city, etc. Of course, these hours are evenly distributed for every day. I don’t work on Sundays. My weekends are when I have most of my free time. Dude. No wonder I’m exhausted. I went from that seemingly slack-ass job at BookPeople to super-hard-ass job with PC. After two years, I really will be awesome… oh, I feel sick…must have been all that math”

December 9

“It’s hard to hate my job when children tell me I’m beautiful every day.”

December 14

“Yesterday on the walk home I saw two teenaged boys doing the oddest thing on the street in front of my house. Oh, if only I had the camera—it was Kerblockistan if I’ve ever experienced it. One boy wore a pair of old fashioned wooden skis, the kind with rubber Wellington boots. He clung onto a rope that was harnessed to the backside of a pug faced dog, which was led by another boy with a rope. The dog pulled him over the snow down the street. They had to have been around 16 or 17 years old. What killed me was when the kid wearing the skis noticed me snickering. He asked me indignantly in perfect English‘What is funny?’… It was my understanding that no one in my neighborhood knew a lick of English at all....They were just that bored…”

December 15

“Gang war, shmang war. I gotta get out of this village!”

January 1

“Just finished Phantom of the Opera... I am suddenly eager to embrace my dark side… I applied fresh coat of Heavenly Ebony onto my fingernails…it looked great on Mary Kate Olson’s bony phalange in last October’s issue of People.”

January 17

“Man, I just lost it with the 7th form. Now that my anger has subsided, I feel so guilty about it. I mean they really were out of line, and they knew it. But I hurt inside. Tough love, man. The poor babies really seemed sorry. As they walked out the door, they looked up at me with watery, doe eyes and asked sweetly, ‘English club Friday??’ Oh, I hope they aren’t afraid of me now. English club is the one thing that keeps me sane. This week I’ve planned to make robots out of wire and aluminum foil. I need those kids, man.”

February 4

“…we watched Russian comedy skits on TV, followed by the most sexed-up accordion act I’d ever seen. A young Mediterranean man with a studded white accordion rocked his pelvis like the King and subtly, oh-so-seductively, licked his lips as his fingers flew over the buttons at warp speed. It’s worth noting that his tuxedo was also white— to match his instrument, I presume. What a cheeseball; I was so impressed. I love a good geek.”

February 11

On one of my older students:

“This guy, cute as he is already, could use a little lesson in coolness. There’s still hope for him: the kid already walks around in a greaser jacket and pointy shoes. I think that in matters such as these I’m just not qualified to make any kind of difference. That’s why I’ve made up my mind to lend him No Direction Home. Whenever this kid feels himself losing it again, he should just ask himself WWDD? (What Would Dylan Do?) Even when Bobby actually lost his cool in front of Italian reporters, he still looked cool in the very least. That is, after all, the most important thing… right?”

February 22

“I just talked to (friend), which is always a pleasure. The phone connection wasn’t so bad this time. He says he’s sporting a mustache, which I find incredibly gross and awesome at the same time. That kid would love Kazakhstan. Mustaches are high fashion here. So are mullets, lucky me. I think that my life in (village), Kazakhstan is pretty close to (friend)’s perception of what life would be like after the apocalypse.”

February 27

“It’s been abnormally cold in our classroom—so cold that I can see my and my students’ breath. Right now there are five smoking men in the back room installing a tap onto the radiator. Evidently, that’s going to make it warmer in here. The whole classroom reeks of cigarettes. Today I look really tired. My hair is dirty and dandruffy; my face looks like a brown paper bag. Even my counterpart says that I look awful. Bell.”

March 1

“2:15 am. I can’t sleep. Just took a walk to the outhouse and back to get some air and look at stars. My hands are frozen. I miss home. I miss (friend) and (friend), my favorite people. More than anything in the world right now, I just want to drink Tecate on (friend)’s porch, maybe have a smoke, and laugh. Have a theoretical discussion about whatever’s so deep that it just isn’t deep. To feel the Tejano music blowing in with the wind and cuss the smoldering heat of early September. Dude, I just want my old life for a few minutes. I wish my time machine would hurry up and arrive in the mail already, before I lose my youthful spontaneity.”

March 2

“As usual, my favorite little Turkish girls walked me home today. They were so funny; they kept accusing each other of liking boys in broken English, mainly using the words ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ ‘boy,’ and ‘lova’ (they wanted to put a feminine ending onto the word ‘love’). They laughed and chirped all the way home, as if I understood what they were talking about. One of the little girls even shooed the others aside and told me a secret… that she really did love little Mister So-and-So! Well, she won’t have to worry about me ever spilling the beans…Wow— my very first little girl secret. I don’t think I was ever trusted with secrets of that magnitude back when I was a little girl myself!”

March 11

“I wonder if all this journaling will ever amount to anything— oh man, when I die I hope the whinny of a harmonica carries me to heaven. Thank you, Springsteen. Thank you for ‘Atlantic City’— but I can’t tell if my writing has improved at all.”

March 14

“Our little puppy had been missing for three whole days. We assumed that one of the bigger dogs in the area had gotten to it. Anyway, when I came home today Louisa explained to me that I should make sure and put a brick in front of our ‘bathroom’ door. ‘Why?’ I asked. She said that the puppy had fallen into the hole of the outhouse… the little trooper actually survived three days in our poop. I honestly didn’t think the thing would survive the cold of winter, so I’m absolutely astonished that such a frail thing could withstand 2 freezing nights in an earthen tank of human excrement, not to mention the ten foot drop. I’m completely baffled as to how they got him out…”

March 16

“Oh, sweet catharsis! Spring is here! It’s so warm and sunny! To think that only 6 days ago it was the coldest day of winter, and now everythin’ has gone twitterpated. This morning, the walk to school was particularly pleasant. All the mud puddles were covered by a thin layer of ice; it looked like Momma Nature had done a poor saran wrap job in a hurry. Cracking the puddles with my toe as I walked along was fun. Dosvedonya, Winter… you punk *ss mutha.”