"Many of the truths we cling to, depend greatly on our own point of view." -Obi-wan Kenobi
The contents of this website are mine personally as usual do not have anything to do with the US government, the Peace Corps, or Romania, and therefore do not reflect any official position thereof.

I just watched The Return of the Jedi, the last part in my impromptu Star Wars marathon, which came about something like this, Me thinking: I could watch the debate, but that will just depress me and make me angry. What's something uplifting I can watch that will give me hope? A New Hope...Star Wars: Episode IV: A New Hope.

Later, though I did watch the debate, as I also watched the first debate and the VP debate and have been following the news as closely as I can. It is disappointing to me how much our political discourse is theater. The debates are really not about engaging the American people so they can learn each candidates position and make the best decision. It's about repeating stock phrases and trying to beat those phrases and two-second ideas into the heads of the audience. If you repeat something often enough it will become true.

McCain's campaign keeps saying Obama would sit down with leaders like Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, when my understanding of what he said is that under his administration high level members of the government would engage Iran in discussions, not that the President is going to have a one-on-one with Ahmadinejad, who isn't even the most powerful leader in Iran. Obama's campaign just keeps repeating that McCain voted with Bush 95% of the time. Both sides point to each other and say "Oh, he's a terrible person because he voted against funding our troops" even though McCain voted against funding the troops in a bill with a time table and Obama voted against funding them in a bill without a time table.

Something occurred to me watching Return of the Jedi. The Rebels could easily have been called a terrorist army by the Empire. I wonder if they were. I wonder if the people in support of the Empire thought the Emperor could protect them from "those who seek to destroy us." I wonder what those people wanted to be protected from in the big scary galaxy a long time ago far away.

Did they know that the Empire was a military regime in which ranking officers who screwed up could be summarily executed and not just fired? I wonder if the subjects of the Empire had rights. I wonder if they hated The Rebellion, if they thought the Jedi religion was a cult that sought to destroy their values, if they ever talked with anyone in the Rebellion. If there was any exchange of ideas between the Empire-Supporters and the Rebels.


Obi-wan's quote from the top of this post stuck out to me more than usual this time around. I have heard the term Post-Fact Society recently and it suddenly makes sense to me. We living in a time when if you don't like something- you can simply dismiss it. Judges you disagree with are "activists", an ethics violation investigation that began before Sarah Palin was nominated for Vice President is now "politically motivated." People who believe in Creationism are opening their own museums. Objective facts have lost all meaning. Paris Hilton is correct when she says "Sound bites, not sound policy determine our country's course."

We are in the Post-Fact world where education is undervalued and you can dismiss the voices of intellectuals as elitists in the pursuit of your own version of American-truth. I have heard it stated by people seeking to dismiss dissenting opinions, the ACLU and Sean Penn hate America! That we're not allowed to say Merry Christmas. There's no such thing as the separation of church and state. We should just blow up Iraq. People damning theocratic governments abroad while pining for one in the USA.

It frustrates and saddens me that this is the level of discourse in the United States today. People seem to have this notion of a democracy as a "majority rules" establishment. That it's a society of "us" versus "them" - the good guys and the bad guys, and if we can just get enough people on our side then we win. But that's not what democracy is about. It means we have a voice with which to elect our representatives and the right to express how we wished to be governed to those people, but we also have an obligation as a members of a free society to be respectful of minority opinions. There are protections, or were, in a democracy against the "tyranny of the majority." That's why we have constitutional limits on powers, and the bill of rights. That's why we have freedom of speech. That's why the first line of the first amendment is "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free expression thereof." That's why we don't live in a theocracy. And that is why, unfortunately, sometimes decisions regarding the rights of the people are made by the courts and not left to a popular vote.

"Many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view." Unfortunately right now the point of view held in the highest esteem by too many of us is our own point of view. Rather than seeking to hear another point of view, we immediately dismiss either the person or wholesale dismiss the facts on which their argument is based. Because we now live in a time when no fact can sway us and no argument must influence us unless it reinforces what we already believe and everything else can be thrown out, or better yet called "gay."

In a Post-Fact Society, I am longing for a real discourse. I'd like to enter into a real conversation and have my opinions challenged intelligently. We know I'm tired of being called names and having my values attacked (See former post September 7th). Use the awesome power of The Force to persuade me that your side is right. Don't make education the enemy. Don't change the subject. And don't call me names.

With the shameful lack of discourse going on, and appalling lack of statesmanship, I have to let go of my anger lest it consume me. I turn to past and fictional leaders for their wisdom to guide me through these troubled times.

Because, that's all I have. May the Force be with us all.

"I think it's better to have ideas. You can change an idea. Changing a belief is trickier." - Rufus the 13th Apostle, Dogma

"Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars... Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." - Martin Luther King Jr

“Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” -Yoda, Jedi Master

Brother, can you spare some peanut butter cups?
The contents of this website are mine personally as usual do not have anything to do with the US government, the Peace Corps, or Romania, and therefore do not reflect any official position thereof.

The holidays are fast approaching, the first one being Halloween. I'm helping my Missionary friends start a high school club where we reinforce Romanian high school students' English skills while also doing fun things watching movies, having discussions and doing activities that promote confidence, self-esteem, creative thinking, problem-solving and critical thinking skills and also foster cultural exchange. And we want to promote these evening activities as an alternative to alcohol and drugs. That is the hope, anyway.

To kick off this club we're planning a Halloween party, and let me tell you I am psyched for showing these kids a real American-style Halloween, complete with scary movies, pumpkin carving peeled grapes and oily spaghetti. Maybe even 80's Karaoke.

For the party, I'd really like to make some of those chocolate chip cookies with the peanut butter cup in the middle, as a matter of cultural exchange and also to show these Romanian kids that Americans do junk-food deserts right. Who needs alcohol and drugs when you've got chocolate chips cookies with peanut butter cups sticking out of them? However, chocolate chips, cookies, peanut butter and cups (peanut butter cups) are all foreign to Romanians. I don't expect they'll be nearly as excited as me, my Missionary friends and my volunteer army in charge of making this Halloween a very happy one.

So does anyone think they could put a bag or two of peanut butter cups in the mail - soonish, that it might get here by Halloween?
If so, you'd have the thanks of a grateful community of volunteers and maybe some culturally enriched high school students.

Purr Baby
The contents of this website are mine personally as usual do not have anything to do with the US government, the Peace Corps, or Romania, and therefore do not reflect any official position thereof.

I've been thinking for weeks what should my next blog post be about? How hard I'm working on this gingerbread castle project? My other "secret projects" none of you know about? How surreal my life sometimes is? The pictures I saw of Hurricane Ivan and how it made me feel? More about the problems in my country? What I'm thinking for the future - after Peace Corps? The Supernatural Marathon weekend I just had with two Peace Corps friends that involved Chinese food, delivery pizza, potato chips, coca-cola and the Winchester brothers Seasons 1 & 2?

As I debated in my mind I recalled I wanted to post on September 18th - the day we celebrate Bella's Birthday. The one year anniversary of the day Bella came to me. We celebrated with a whole packet of Whiskas Supreme Sardine cat food, and I toasted her with hot coffee. To one year together and many more.

I would post a picture of how big my baby's gotten, but for the time being my camera is being repaired in Bucharest and I don't have it here, so you'll just have to me due with this kind of cute old picture.
In the meantime Bella and I have been at odds lately. Last week I hosted a family of couch-surfers , a mom, a dad, and their 8month old baby boy for three nights. Bella seemed to be both interested and afraid of Baby and seemed to have fun playing with the other members of the family. Her personal space and patterns of sleeping were invaded I thought minimally, and even though everyone of the visitors warmly appreciated Bella I still tried to give her as near the same amount of attention I would normally.

However, when visitors left on Friday evening Bella, I guess decided to tell me exactly what she though about me inviting overnight guests into her apartment: She took a dump on my bed.
This is an unusual turn of events for Bella. I punished her with a time out in the kitchen and much later made sure she had some "mommy time" to know I wasn't still mad at her and hadn't abandoned her.

Then my weekend-guests arrived and the Supernatural Marathon did commence and once again, the guests appreciated and enjoyed playing with Bella and aside from two more people sleeping in the apartment than usual, I thought Bella's daily interactions changed very little. ALthough I did notice her scratching herself much more frequently when our first guests were here. I announced that Bella needed a bath. That her itching was worrying to me although she couldn't have gotten fleas because she's never outside. A joke was made that the couple with the baby brought fleas to my cat. I commented that that would be some trick because I think you'd have to go through a lot of specific actions or troubles to bring fleas inside to someone you knew would have a cat.

Well the itching increased and Sunday morning after my fellow Supernatural fans departed Bella got her bath. I was concernedly drying her and in fact picking newly discovered parasites of some kind off her skin when I smelled it...She rewarded me for my weekend guests in the same way she appreciated the couch surfers!

I don't know what's going on here, but my cat has fleas and has taken to crapping on my bed. This is worrisome behavior for a cat that is coming to the USA with me someday and is going to have to learn how to cope when "mommy" gets a job and is hopefully out of the house from 8-5 regularly.

In the meantime, she's had her flea bath and I can go pick up some emergency medication against fleas on her body hopefully tomorrow. The only explaination of how I think she could have gotten them is that flea eggs survive in my apartment - and necessity has forced me to be somewhat OK with that. I tried to wash one of the cushions Bella's been so fond of sleeping on lately but whether or not the washer actually washes things with water is touch and go - so when I pulled the washers contents out dry earlier I said "let that be a worry for another day."

Since my tools for cleaning the carpets is a broom and I beat and washed these rugs already this year, there's not much that's going to be done there, and since I have actually zero disposable income - i.e. income not already budgeted for something else, it's going to be a hard sight to see how we swing this flea medication. In the meantime I'm sleeping in my dish-soap cleaned bed because it takes two-days for the sheets to dry on the line if the machine uses water so usually I only wash them when I'm going away for a while. Besides Bella has done so much sleeping on me or with me that there's no way I could claim avoiding exposure for flea eggs and a massive laundry overall would just be too little too late.

The best I can do I figure is bathe her again if she continues to scratch, find a way to pay for the medication that will kill all hatching fleas on her for a number of months, and pray I don't get fleas myself .... until I do, I guess I have to be Ok with that.

Something productive with my anger...
The contents of this website are mine personally as usual do not have anything to do with the US government, the Peace Corps, or Romania, and therefore do not reflect any official position thereof.

I have just been told by the Republican Party that my country doesn’t value me; doesn’t want me anymore; thinks people like me suck.

Imagine finding that out after dedicating three years of your life to volunteering in her name.

Apparently this RNC was all about touting the values of people from small towns. I am from a small town: population 10,000, so you would think I would score there. But apparently, as I have been told before, I don’t have any values. The last Republican National Convention 9/11fest was in New York City, because that’s small town America for you. However this year, only “real” people from small towns in America count. But not me.

I’ve volunteered for 1 year in Americorps, for three months on the Gulf Coast and so far a year and a half in the Peace Corps, and this experience has taught me that I want to go back to school. I want to be a Community Organizer and work in underprivileged areas in the U.S., to start my own nonprofit and help the poor help themselves but Republicans tell me this is a joke and waste of time.

Also, I can’t be a patriotic person because I have always believed that loving your country is trying to improve it. I shouldn’t have been trying my damnedest to “ask not what my country can do for me…,” instead I should have been going along with the status quo and never let anyone say anything negative about my homeland.

I worked for minimum wage out of college – less than 20 hours a week which was considered full time by the company I worked for – but I found a way to use my money to send care packages to anonymous soldiers I didn’t even know because I may hate the war but I support the troops. This doesn’t make me patriotic, though. Hell, I’ve practically committed treason by showing dislike for the war my country is engaged in and expressing that opinion to the very soldiers I support.

And because I think my country could do things better than the way it is doing them now, I am anti-American.

I didn’t just attend church, but enjoyed going to church in my community in Minnesota before I left the country. I miss being involved in Bible study, volunteering for summer Sunday school and serving pancakes at Churches United for the Homeless. But I believe that Faith is belief in things for which we have no evidence and if a new thought can shake your faith it probably wasn’t very strong to begin with – so my textbooks don’t need disclaimers, and therefore I’m anti-God.

In fact, I’m so anti-God, I’m willing to listen to what other people believe and not tell them their wrong. I think that even though I have faith in one thing, we should uphold the constitution and not tell everyone they have to believe the same thing as me! That makes me even more anti-faith and anti-American. Because after all why even have faith if not to push it down the throats of others? And being a Christian first and foremost gives you the right to believe you’re better than other people.

I believe that abortion is a very personal, private, individual, moral decision, but – like John McCain believed in 2000 – I believe that if Roe vs. Wade were repealed thousands of young American women would be in danger of death and injury due to illegal and underground abortions. This makes me anti-family, because in a Culture of Life, we don’t value the lives of women who’ve had sex – especially if unmarried or unable to afford a doctor. The wealthy will have a greater chance of affording procedures that won’t leave them butchered or prone to die of infection, but those who were struggling day to day without the prospect of raising a child? Well, they’ll have to take their chances. Should have thought of that before you had sex with limited access to birth control (I’m looking at you South Dakota.)

Because believe that a Culture of Life includes looking out for working and single mothers, working families and people who can’t afford health care; because I thought I remembered Jesus teaching something about “caring for the least of these;” because I remember learning somewhere either in my small town or at my small college that among Christians the people are what make up the church and the people love and care and sacrifice for each other; I’m probably a Socialist and therefore a danger to America.

I hate PG-13 movies because by definition PG-13 movies aren’t allowed to show blood as consequence of gunplay and most PG-13 movies are produced so middle school kids have something to do on dates, but I think there are many good, decent, well-made Rated R films that can teach us about the human condition, so therefore I’m pro-Hollywood, and to be pro-Hollywood is to be pro-gay so add that to list. (Majorly looking forward to the movie Milk, though need it be stated?)

I also don’t believe in traditional marriage and don’t want to get married. In my “traditional family” and in my small town I saw many traditional marriages end in divorce and I really don’t care much for the institution. But that’s because I’m anti-marriage, anti-family and anti-“traditional values” even though I don’t know what you mean by that. If this post hasn’t shown you enough already, every time someone says “traditional,” “American,” “family,” or “our shared” values I stop listening because rarely are they talking about me, my values or my family.

I don’t count because if I don’t believe the same thing as someone else I don’t have values. In fact, I’m beyond that: by valuing diversity, acceptance, pluralism, education, and peace, I am anti-Values. I’m a feminist, vegetarian who supports gun control and wants to be a foster parent someday. I’m one step away from being the Anti-Christ.

Is it any wonder I feel alienated from my country?

Any wonder why I can’t automatically parrot-chirp Yes, when asked if I’m proud to be an American?

I’m not proud of being called names, I can tell you that.

The Republicans have made it quite clear that Patriotic America has no use for people like me.

But I will not surrender my country so easily. All though it is hard, I have to forge ahead and make a place for myself there – no matter how demoralized I am and tired I am of being told that I have no values.

I know that I have worthwhile values. I know that I am a worthwhile American. And no one is going to take my country from me like this. If they think the U.S. will be better off when the people like me all leave – they can make me. Just as soon as I get back.

Carry on my Wayward Son
The contents of this website are mine personally as usual do not have anything to do with the US government, the Peace Corps, or Romania, and therefore do not reflect any official position thereof.

Having strayed far from my "comfort zone" into completely alien territories of faith by studying and attending church with Missionary Group #2, my mind has recoiled at the utter lack of balance in my life. Reeling and grasping for me to put something "normal" within sight; some indication or reminder of who I am and where I came from; which as I recall is "just another freak in the freak kingdom."

In response I decided to become obsessed with Supernatural, a show to which I was briefly dedicated in January and February of 2007 before I left for Romania.

Supernatural is a good reminder to me that I do have a lot of faith and a capacity to believe incredible things. It also makes me feel more sorted out to have "treatment" of Sam and Dean every evening with an episode (or three). Because when you distill the relationship between the Winchester brothers down through all the duty, and demon-induced pain and grief, what you have is basically one hot guy telling another hot guy "I can't live without you" - just not in so many words.

And Heaven knows I will lap that up. I will eat up with a spoon. I will drink it with straw.

However, I have opportunities to challenge my firmly held beliefs and find contention here too. While surfing the abundance of Winchester brother videos on Youtube (I really make it sound like I don't do any work at all, don't I?) I came across a video someone made for Jensen Ackles about his character's pet peeves; one of which is when people assume that because Dean and Sam are always together, they are ...uh, together. Now I can't demand a gay-positive attitude from all my fave fictional characters (see Leo McGary from the West Wing). I sometimes do know when I'm asking too much of the world. Besides what person in their right mind, what gay person, wouldn't be offended if someone suggested they were gay ...with their brother?

However I was shocked and disappointed when in the video, typed across one of the stills is, the quote "When I find out who invented Wincest I'm going to burn that bitch." The quote is not attributed to Ackels and I dearly hope it is not his. The maker of the video sourced their material from an Ackels fan site, which I scoured (by which I mean glanced at to not find the quote or the attribution on the home page, so I left).

I sincerely hope he didn't say that. I would fall to my knees and howl in lamentation if he did. I would be gravely disappointed. Possibly to the point of tears and rending my garments. Not because I'm a fan of Wincest. It's not my cup of tea. But I understand those who might go for it. I sincerely doubt the majority of Wincest fans are in it because of the brothers. (Ew). I think it's just an excuse to get two hot guys together in a fan fiction story. It's not my thing, so I personally leave it alone. It may not be you're thing either, but really is it hurting anyone? It's a bunch of made-up stories, probably terribly written stories - about fictional characters. Probably horribly written. (Shudder).

So in the meantime I wring my hands and wonder why all the condemnation in the world? Sigh. At least I have my sweet sweet show to cling to - until I watch all of season 3, which only has 16 episodes.

You're not the boss of me!
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

I was probably the only person in North America (when I was in North America) who anxiously awaiting the day a proud Muslim person would come knock on my door and ask it I'd like to learn more about the Prophet Mohammad. I would love to learn more!

Because I have a sincere interest in other people's faiths, and I think it can never hurt us to learn more about faith and what our brothers and sisters believe, I have entered into study-relationships with two different sets of missionaries. I have been doing Bible study for about eight months now with a Romanian girl who speaks English that I met because she knocked on my door, and I recently engaged another group of American missionaries that are in town. I'm interested to know more.

It probably doesn't help that all of my Peace Corps friends went on vacation at the same time and I am working from home on the internet so that doesn't leave me anyone to talk to. And its amazing how much you have in common with other Americans you have nothing in common with once you're in Romania together.

I was enjoying weekly talks with both sets of missionaries. It was nice to have someone in my life to remind me that spiritual pursuits require time and energy which should be dedicated to study, prayer and self examination. Fine. But now both groups are making greater demands on my time. One group wants to see me three times a week including church on Sunday, and my other friend whom I've known longer - who's never invited me anywhere not even on Easter - has finally invited me to church this Sunday. When I told the other missionaries this, they seemed offended. They weren't outright mean, but they definitely put pressure on me to come to their church. I thought I could just go to one church this week and another one next week and then I realized: they both want me to come to church with them every week.

At first I was kind of shy and embarrassed. I tried to think of something placating to say. I wondered how I could get out of going to church with the other person. I felt like I owed them. They made me feel like I had broken a promise. Like I was disappointing them. Then, later I got angry. I don't deserve to be stressed out about this. It isn't a competition. Both of these Christian denominations should just be glad I'm going to church at all and not trying to convince me that theirs in the one true church.

This I think is representative of everything I find frustrating about Christianity. And while desperately trying to remain a Christian, increase my knowledge and my faith, this kind of thing really makes me want to chuck the whole thing and stay home and watch cartoons in Romanian. Although I don't exactly feel justified since the missionaries weren't outright mean about it. They just made me feel kind of bad.

They said it was an opportunity for me to ask God to reveal to me which house I was supposed to be in on Sunday. So I did. Though, unhappy that they were putting me in this position I asked God "If it's important to You which church I go to on Sunday please indicate to me where you would like me to go."

We'll see what happens, but until then I'm shaking off this pressure by reminding myself that this is only One Sunday of my life and really, which church I worship in is so not important. They're both going to be in Romanian anyway.

The Pitch...
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

At last the time is right to inform everyone about this incredible project I've been working on, which I know I have not mentioned or explained thus far. Read on to find out about this extra special project and how you can be part of it!

In cooperation with the management of Castleul Corvinilor (the Corvin’s Castle) in Hunedoara, Romania my friend Micah and I are organizing a Christmas fair for local children involving nonprofit organizations which benefit children at the often-pictured-on-this-blog castle December 12-14th.

Organizations such as local orphanages, associations which benefit street children, groups for parents of disabled children, Special Olympics and Habitat for Humanity will come together for a weekend long fair, and offer an activity or craft for children for a small amount of money. We intend this event as an opportunity for nonprofits to solicit donations, recruit volunteers, and promote their mission and services. There will be a chance for each organization to invite its child beneficiaries to decorate a Christmas tree for display.

As a centerpiece to the event, we will create and display a model of Castelul Corvinilor created out of gingerbread. The gingerbread castle will be a project of Peace Corps volunteers and will be donated to the event as a media showcase, and will remain on display at the castle along with the decorated Christmas trees for the rest of the season.

Communication and cooperation between Romanian nonprofits often fails in an atmosphere of competition and tension. Past-dependence on foreign donors has made the work of many nonprofits insular; their work often left unacknowledged and unassisted by their communities which may not even be aware people are working toward solutions to local problems. The objectives of our event are to raise the profile of Romanian nonprofits benefiting children and families, while providing them a networking and local fund raising opportunity. A secondary benefit is the media attention to Hunedoara, an underprivileged community, as a tourist point of interest.

The castle administration is eager to work with us and has agreed to donate use of the castle for the three-day event and to make admission free to all who wish to attend. We will also be inviting local dancers and musicians to perform and food and drink vendors. There will be a coloring contest with a prize for the winner and other special events throughout the duration of the Christmas fair. Maybe even an appearance by Santa Claus himself!

We invite you to help us fund this this event through the Peace Corps Partnership Program so that we can provide organizations that would not otherwise be able to participate the cost of materials for their activity at the fair. In addition to supporting our nonprofit partners who ask for assistance, our main expenses with this project are printing and advertising the event and the cost of creating the gingerbread castle. We are additionally seeking in-kind donations to support the project although the culture is not on where businesses are usually involved in the community.

If interested, click here to go to the Peace Corps Partnership Program web site and make your tax-deductible donation online with your credit card. It's that easy and you can donate any amount!

I look forward to continuing to update you on the progress of this project. In fact if my camera hadn't broken last weekend I would have some pictures of our "practice gingerbread castle" which we constructed and of "days of the castle" a medieval celebration in Hunedoara.

Laundry Day!
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

Today is laundry day and I am thrilled! Why am I thrilled? Because somewhere around the second week of June my last washing machine broke. It was very old but I think I overloaded it and it started to smoke. Sadly when I informed the landlord of this over the phone I initially said correctly in Romanian, "Smoke from the washing machine" and then I went on to say "I am smoking the washing machine."

Sometime in early July the landlord actually showed up to fix it. It was not entirely his fault it took so long. We had problems coordinating our schedules and I've been making frequent trips to Bucharest and since its summer there are various festivals going on which take me out of town on the weekends. The weekend before last weekend was one that I was home, however.

I have to hand it to my landlord. He really gave fixing that old washing machine the old college try. He made two different trips here to fix it, on the second trip he left with the machine, only to return it, instruct me to put the clothes in it and wash away. Then he tried to take it apart with my clothes in it before informing me that it was still broken and leaving with the machine - and me with a tub full of wet towels and jeans.

Now I have no right to complain about having no washing machine since most of my fellow volunteers have no washing machine and have been doing their laundry by hand for over a year. I've been doing my laundry by hand for only a little over a month. What I was upset about was the fact that I was long waiting for him to come and fix it so I could wash the jeans and towels I'd been saving for when I had a machine again. If he had said right away - too bad no machine, I could have washed those jeans and towels by hand much sooner. Truly, I ran out of towels at one point and when the point came when I needed to shower and still couldn't justify pulling a towel out of the laundry bag, I dried myself with what can only be described as a super-absorbent bathroom floor mat that a guest had left here.

I was also especially upset about the landlord leaving me with that pile of wet jeans and towels because he told me he would call me last Tuesday or Wednesday and bring over a new machine. Well he didn't and both of my buckets were already full. I had to leave last Thursday for Bucuresti for my last shot in the series of anti-rabies treatments, so I put the wet towels and jeans in the tub and filled it up thinking damp clothes can't mold if they're underwater. However, I forgot that my bathtub leaks so instead of damp laundry moldering on the bathroom floor, I had sopping wet laundry moldering in the bath tub.

But today the landlord brought over a new machine, Praise the Lord! It only took two cycles for each of two separate loads to get that aquarium smell out of my disturbingly slimy jeans. Soon I will be rich in clean dish towels - which I haven't seen since early June and my bathroom floor will be free of buckets of dirty filthy smelling water and soaking clothes. My balcony is already crowded with drying towels and pairs of pants. I am very excited and still unable to overlook my good fortune at having a washing machine!

Romania is not the United States >:<
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

For the first time I have been really annoyed that Romania is not the United States. It started around 4 am this morning when a car in my neighborhood's car alarm when off - and proceeded to blare for two hours until 6:05 this morning.

Usually it is screaming cats. bloody snarling dog fights and occasionally a rooster cockadoodling at 5 am which make up the annoying noises heard in my alley, and I've learned to live with it. This car alarm pissed me off though. I lay in the dark with a second pillow and my arm over my head trying to drown out the noise waiting for one of my neighbors to call the police. I imagine no one did.

I didn't call the police because a) I don't have a non-emergency number for the police department
b) I don't know if they would understand my Romanian, and because
c) I'm not sure if letting your car alarm blare for two hours in the early morning is illegal.

But it should be. It doesn't seem fair that one person's car alarm falsely going off should deprive people in three bloc buildings of a night of sleep - and for the record that's a lot of people. And I can tell how many people were up by how many lights went on in the apartments in the other building.
In fact, at one point I put my headphones in, flicked on the lights in the bedroom out of solidarity with the neighbors and to show the police should they ever show up just how many people were disturbed by this, and buried my head under the pillows and tried to sleep in the living room.

After breakfast this morning I sent an irritated email to our Safety and Security officer describing the situation and asking what I can do should it re-occur. I not so sensitively pointed out that this is illegal in the US, that playing sirens to deprive people of sleep is a torture technique, and told him I might call him at four in the morning next time it happens so that he can call the Deva police for me.

I signed off, Tired and Cranky, Laura.

Luckily as daylight broke the wailing siren stopped. I popped a couple of ibuprophen to help get rid of my screaming headache, put my eye pillow over my face to simulate darkness and turned off the alarm so I could sleep in till 10. Unfortunately at 9:30 I was awakened by someone in my hallway cutting metal with a chainsaw because they are making some renovations I don't understand to the building - but that is what I am used to.

One weekend, four musicals and these clips
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

A working weekend, but I managed to listen to Godspell, Mama Mia, Tommy, and watch Sweeney Todd (finally!) Also, discovered these priceless gems. Can't wait to get involved in Improv Everywhere when I'm back in the states!

OH Sweet Hell, Batman!
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

I saw The Dark Knight last night. I felt a little bad that it such a dark movie and I was cackling obnoxiously through a lot of it. It is funnier than I expected, and let me just say the Joker has some lines that completely satisfy! At one point I gave a dirty look to some other Americans in the audience that were talking out loud in English during the movie - but I didn't really have a leg to stand on with my burst of maniacal laughter (let me say in my own defense though, in this movie, maniacal laughter is not out out of place.)

I heard an American girl say during one seen "couldn't they have found a better Alfred?" which made me consider leaping out of my seat and grabbing her by the throat. I wouldn't have had very far to go because she was sitting in the middle of the aisle (apparently you can do that) but I decided against it because I wanted to see the rest of the movie.

Heath Ledger's Joker is hands down my favorite character and my favorite performance. Knowing me, and my sense of humor you know that if Ledger's Joker wasn't so sharp there could have been a moment during his scene with Maggie Gyllenhaal where I would have thought "HA HA! He totally made out with her brother!" but as it was that didn't occur to me till the ending credits.

I love the Joker's voice, which I read was Ledger's biggest challenge with the role. The whole performance is just incredible. If you put this movie next to anything else the Brother's Grimm, Brokeback Mountain, A Knight's Tale, - I'd never guess it was the same actor if I didn't already know!

I was SO SAD it's the last movie I'll ever see him. I wanted to cry during every seen he wasn't in. I wore all black to the movie theatre. If I were in the states I would have worn The Joker makeup too - but I can't do that here because A) I don't have my Ben Nye kit and B) People would talk - "I saw an American at the cinema wearing The Joker make up. That's because they're all homicidal maniacs, Americans." And they'd only be half right. (shh! I didn't say that.)

Even with all Ledger's amazingness Gary Oldman also stole the show for me. Could be that he's got a bit more screen time than the Joker, but also the subdued Jim Gordon, stands out next to the energetic performances of Ledger, Christain Bale, and Aaron Eckhart. It made me love Commissioner Gordon even more than I did after the first Christopher Nolan Batman movie.

Funny thing is on the train on the way to Bucuresti (for the fourth out of five anti-rabies shots) I had a dream about Adam West and the Batman tv show that I watched in the second grade. After walking out of the theatre last night the following occurred to me: Batman-still cool. Nolan really packs the punches when it comes to questioning the goodness of human nature, heroism, and the struggle against evil internally and externally. This is not Adam West's Batman.

Nature Girl
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

Hope isn't easily killed. I have tried to kill her many times, never really believing I'd succeeded, and still she refuses to die. That's a good thing, for the most part. But Hope has a dangerous twin sister Expectation.

In the life of every woman (and I expect also, every man) there comes a time when you look to the future and ask yourself what you want. At this point you separate what you were told you wanted and what you actually want. You also examine the horizon and make note of the difference between how you were told your life would be and how it is. For most of us I believe involves hearing a lot of "When you grow up and get married and have kids" and then looking around going "huh?" or "when?" and "Whaaa?"

For me I don't have a lot actual guides to reference when I think about ideas like "relationship" "happiness" and "forever" so I look to The Movies to be my guides. It occurs to me lately that several movies involve people reminiscing about happiness from their youth which is over. Happiness the character expected would continue to the end of the storyline and are now looking back on with fondness and regret.

Then there are the enormous multitude of movies that end when the couples get together and we presume they live "happily ever after." I have often commented that movies like this build false expectations - most of our stories end when a couple get together at the end of a film and we never see the complicated trials, or the work of maintaining a relationship.

But which is it? Should we expect that happiness will just come and that one day after some amusing pitfalls, some crying and a big comedic moment (Julia Roberts stealing a truck and proposing to her best friend) it will all fall into place and happiness will just arrive?

Or are we constantly wary, avoiding false expectations, eschewing disappointment and pain...and wrestling with hope?

There are things that I was told all my life - and I never believed them. I turned a cold eye to all romantic comedies which build dangerous expectations. The ones I don't admit to watching - and have done so only under duress. I told myself happiness can't be found in another person. Love should never be calculated in terms of what you "deserve" or think you deserve, and any time I ever heard someone say that I forced my interior monologue to shout "SHUT UP, SHUT UP" because people don't always get what they deserve. I think, rarely, they do. I repeated Eponine's lines in One Day More "Not for me, Not for me," until they became true for me and still I tried not to dream, tried to have no expectations. I tried to kill hope.

I did this because it was easier than maintaining that fragile faith. My faith in this area is almost gone. But then...

Where's the line between hoping and creating false expectations? What is tempting fate, setting yourself up for failure? And what is sitting on the bench, staying out of the game? When is it true that if you don't expect to find happiness you won't find it? What amount of hope, or expectation of happiness is reasonable?

I joined Peace Corps because I've always wanted to serve. But also for a bit of adventure, and maybe also to "find myself." And instead, maybe I'm finding something else. Something all those innocent - I believed naive grandmothers and well meaning Old Ladies said I would find, and I didn't believe them. Something I didn't know existed. Didn't think could exist. Still don't know if it does....
but maybe it does.
Maybe.
I hope.

No one but you.

Twice Bitten
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

And not by mosquitoes although I have plenty of those bites to go around. Yes those are my two-year pale calves up there with the bruises that hardly show up when photographed. Yesterday they looked worse, today better. The big bruise on my right leg is already yellow in the middle so healing well.

Here's what happened: Last Wednesday at 6:45 in the morning, I was on my way to the bus that would take me to the train station that would take me to camp in the village, when I turned a corner near my apartment and surprised a pack of wild dogs some guy was feeding from his doorway. I didn't know they were there, but one on the outskirts of the pack was apparently surprised and threatened by my sudden appearance. I'm sure with my big backpack and the big tent in a bag I was carrying I seemed like a large threatening human coming up behind him when he wasn't too sure he wanted to get closer to the human in front of him with the food.

He never growled. But barked threateningly and charged. I had time to back away, tell myself not to run or he would chase me, and realize even if I didn't run he was still coming for me. He bit twice. Once on each leg. And ran away. I screamed, fell down, was going to cry - decided not to cry - realized I couldn't bet back on my feet with my big backpack on and the guy feeding the dogs had to come and help me. Among my thoughts were - Did he bite me? I never thought a dog would bite me. If I'm bleeding I have to go to Bucharest for the rabies shots.

I was bleeding, but not a lot. My first thought was "It's just a scratch. I've had worse falling off my bike." I think it was the dogs equivalent I think to shoving someone out of the way so you can run down the stairs and out of the house before the cops show up. It wasn't until I was on the bus to the train station, trying not to bleed on the car, that I realized my legs actually hurt. Later the bruises started to swell and show up but and once I got a band-aid one of the punctures bleed for about half a day. I count myself lucky, though. If the dog had been angry he certainly could have done more damage.

Rabies shots - for those of you afraid of needles, injections, and long grueling amounts of time spent on trains you should probably not read on.

I ended up getting on the bus to the train station, buying tickets then dumping my water bottle on the wounds before getting on the train to camp. On the way one of our high school student leaders insisted on cleaning the wounds again with my bottle of hand-sanitizer. Peace Corps doctors insisted I come to Bucharest for the anti-rabies shots so rather than going out to the camp ground with everyone else I had lunch in Baru Mare and got back on the train. Nine hours later I arrived in Romania's capital where thankfully I met a friend and went out to dinner rather than dragging my sorry self to the hotel and finding food alone.

Thursday morning at 8:15 I saw our Peace Corps doctor and received four shots. One in the arm, one in the butt and one in each bite (yeah, and I got bit twice!) And a schedule telling me I had to come back four more times for the rest of the anti-rabies treatments. Took an afternoon train home for seven hours spent the night at home at my apartment and early Friday morning set out for camp - made it there by Friday afternoon.

Saturday night, we ended camp around three, was back on a train at nine. Midnight took the overnight train to Bucharest, got to the office at 7:00, 7:30 had a shot, 9:45 was on a train back to Deva - arrived in Deva at 7pm.

The thing about the anti-rabies shots is I'm glad they have them and that Peace Corps makes us get them if we're bit by an animal. However, I don't have any reason to suspect that the dog had rabies and when I think about it not having rabies, I just get upset at all the time I have to spend traveling for these shots. In other PC countries you can get three shots when you show up in country so you don't get rabies in the event that you are bitten (like the vaccines you give your pet dog so they DON'T get rabies.) I'm not sure why we don't do that here because three shots is ultimately less than six (or in my case nine) but then again I only know of three other volunteers who have actually been bitten by dogs.

Getting bit by a dog is surely going to make me hate trains. I have to go back to Bucharest again overnight train Wednesday night spend three hours in Bucharest and come back Thursday night. And again next week, and then again in two weeks. At least hopefully by August 7th The Dark Knight may be playing in Bucharest and if that's the case I won't be in such a hurry to get back to site.

The Babies are Gone!
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

Christina came to pick up the kittens an hour ago and now it's just me and Bella again. So another project over, and again not the way I anticipated, but accomplished nonetheless. I feel bad about their missing "escapee" brother and sisters, but I'm very happy that at least Chuckles and Hugs will be going to a good home. I tried to give Christina some advice about socializing them but she said her mother has cats and knows how to take of them. And I'm sure she does.

I hope the little girls will be happy and will continue to make progress. Today we went to the vet because of Chuckles puffy firm stomach, made me expect stomach worms. Later, I had them both in my arms and they were playing with each other and then they both fell asleep. They purr when I held them, but disliked being picked up - so I had to chase them because they'd never come to me. Still hissy and spitty, but hopefully on the way to long happy domestic lives.

I hope your new guardian will give you the vaccines you need to be healthy and hopefully will have you sterilized. I hope you'll be happy with a yard to play in and when you're tempted to go exploring this big crazy dangerous world you'll remember not to stray too far from the food bowl. Good luck guys! I miss you already.

Now I'm getting ready to leave for camp for four days and Bella goes from Big Sister to ruling the house all alone. I hope she doesn't get too lonely!

On Failure
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

People are uncomfortable with failure. Americans in particular do not accept it. In Romania there is a cultural stigma against failure that says its better not to try than to try and fail. Someone described it as Americans will start out saying "yes" and Romanians will start out saying "no." I think that's accurate.

I think one of the most valuable things we have to teach as Romanians in America is that you can fail - the only redeeming point about America's attitude toward failure is that we have an underbelly of "at least you tried" which doesn't exist here. As a postcard I found in my apartment left by the previous Peace Corps volunteer says "Even if you fail, at least you are trying to succeed. You could do nothing." I think if we can impart that value to Romania, we will have accomplished a lot.

I have had a couple of experiences in my life where I've completely failed at something - and when I say "failed" I don't mean "blew it off" or "didn't do what I could have." What I mean by Failure in this instance is that I gave 100% of everything I had - there was absolutely nothing more I could do - and still I failed. Many people if they find themselves close to failing, find the resources (either within themselves or in friends and family) to pull themselves out at the last minute. Therefore I don't know many people who claim to have this experience of Failure and very few people I have met in life can relate to Failure. It is like hitting a wall.

Therefore, when I relate my experience starting out in a "this is what happened to me" style, I quickly become assertive. Because it has been my experience the other person needs some convincing that I did in fact Fail - that there was nothing I could have done to try harder. Maybe it's because of my assertions, but the other person almost always argues with me my experience was not actual Failure (capital F) but just failure on my part to do something more.

Example:"I'm sure if you went to therapy and overcame math anxiety you could do math."
No. I have math anxiety and a learning disability. While Math anxiety may be treatable, a learning disability is not something that can be cured. I'm sorry you don't believe me but it's not a matter of not having tried. It's not a matter of not wanting to learn.

This treatment of my experience - making it invalid - is incredibly frustrating on top of the experience of Failing. I do realize that tat it's not my failure that they disbelieve, it's the idea that people can fail that they don't want to believe. Because if it happened to me it could happen to them and they don't want to think about what it's like to have that incredibly frustrating experience like beating your head against an immovable object.

But I don't have to think about it what that's like. I know.

So when you encounter someone sharing an experience with you from their life, and incredibly frustrating experience of Failure, don't try to convince them that there's more they could have done. They are probably more than anything else just looking for someone to acknowledge and validate their experience. They are looking for someone to say "I understand that it was very difficult." They don't want to hear, "I'm sure there was something else you could have done."

And in the meantime chances are when someone is telling you about the worst period in their life - the story is going to be negative. I bet the story of the worst thing that ever happened to you isn't a positive story. So don't assume the situation was a negative one because of this attitude. Attitudes are shaped by circumstances and someone who starts out with a good attitude in a situation can change their attitude over time. When the good attitude receives no nourishment, it bears no fruit and it dies.

I have learned to appreciate my failures. For one thing they taught me to identify and understand what other people in unjust circumstances are going through. It can be very helpful to know that failure is possible - even when you are trying your hardest, and I find it useful to be able to identify with what people in other situations are going through.

But for now, I have to figure out how, when I get this response of someone trying to invalidate my life experience, how not to let it take me right back to that darkest time in my life when the Failure was actually happening. If anyone has any advice on that, I'll happily take it.

I can't mull this over in my head anymore, so I had to write about. Now I'm going to go take a shower and stop feeling this way.

Two Sisters
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

This is Hugs (the hissy and spitty one)

This is Chuckles (the one with the eye problem)

Two kittens found after an interesting night-long adventure which involved lifting up the bed and also crawling around the living room with the flashlight on my phone at 3:30 in the morning while my friends who were crashing over slept, unawares.

They now wait in the no-places-to-hide kitchen for my work colleague Cristina to call and say when she's picking them up to take to their new home outside of Deva with her mother.

Their sister, Precious, who is white with gray tabby-striped spots seems to have disappeared, and by the uneaten food left about in bowls sequestered in various rooms at different times I have concluded she is no longer in the apartment. How or when she left I have no idea. I believe it was probably sometime after I lost Tiger on Thursday night, but actually Thursday night was the last time I saw her (maybe it was her, maybe it was Hugs) and it could be that Tiger followed her out the window. I didn't hear another jumper - but I can't be certain. As my friends pointed out, if Hugs could sneak into the living room without us knowing it - Precious could have sneaked out the window or the front door. I feel bad for having lost her.

My worst fear is that she's dead somewhere in the apartment. (Poor Precious!)

More on last night's adventure: We caught Chuckles here, and confined her to the cat carrier in the bedroom and put out a bowl of fresh food to tempt her sisters out. My friends crashing for the night went to bed on the couches, and I took the fold out chair-bed so as not to sleep in the bedroom and disturb the kitten(s). Chuckles started crying and I was hearing responding cries. They sounded like they were coming from under the couch I was sleeping next to, but sometimes I have a hard time telling where sounds are really coming from. Then I moved somehow and heard a hiss and I knew I she was in the living room. So I sat up and picked Bella up from where she was sleeping by my feet and told her to go get the kitten under the couch. When I acquired my flashlight I didn't see her under the couch anywhere, but heard Bella growling across the room and realized she was under the TV. But with all the large backpacking packs around the room and shopping bags, what a great place for a kitten to hide. Twice I saw Hugs under the TV and twice she proved very disappear-y until we (Bella and I) finally cornered her and imprisoned her with Chuckles in the carrier.

Bella proved very embarrassed by her lack of ability to hunt other cats in her own territory and decided to stay up for the rest of the night and prove herself by getting into the spices my friends brought over from other exotic locals, and knocking the chocolate sprinkles all over the floor. However, Bella has been very gracious about giving up her kitchen so I could move the kittens, bowls and litter box into that space and close the door.

This experience has also taught me to appreciate Bella's even temperment. All that I know of Bella's origins is that my second host mother found her crying in the rain with two other kittens, caught her, brought her to Deva from the country house where her garden is and gave her to me covered in fleas, yet Bella had a friendly disposition from the beginning after being socialized for all of a few hours by my host mother. I suppose it's completely possible she was already at that time someone else's cat who got away in the rain. But if that was the case someone else wasn't looking after her with eye drops and flea medication. Yet Bella first purred for me the first time I gave her rice boiled in milk (because I didn't yet have any cat food) and on the second day she was more inclined to climb up my pant leg than to run into the corner. She never hissed or spat at me.

Anyway, this experience has taught me that no matter how good our intentions are, sometimes we can't help the kittens that don't want to be helped (hence the two that ran away.) I'm very lucky to have so quickly found a home for the two that remain, but whether they will stay there or run away to live out their lives in the wild I have my doubts - and also no control. I have to console myself knowing I did only the best I could for them, and even though I held them both today and stroked each one of them until they stopped shaking and started to purr - they probably still hate me and hate people. I broke up their family. And the knowledge that their family was going to break up soon naturally anyway doesn't comfort me much. It does make me feel good to think that maybe I could help these two beauties have better, longer, healthier lives, but I'm also worried because until Christina picks them up I know I'm not off the hook.

I told myself getting into this that we all must make decisions knowing we have to live with what we did or did not do. And I chose to do this. I think maybe its because my parents never let me rescue animals off the street when I was a kid and now that I'm on my own I'll do what I want and no one can stop me. In any case I learned my lesson about feral cats and now I believe people when they say that they don't like people and don't want to be tamed. When Bella and I say goodbye to Chuckles and Hugs I'll know that I've had my "rescuing" experience for Romania and I won't need to do it again. Until I'm back in the U.S. and can work through a rescue organization.

And then there were 3?
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I think this little guy is the one who escaped last night. I never saw which one it was, but this guy is the darkest and his sisters (all calico, therefore I assume female, but they could also be sterile males) have some white on them - which leads me to believe it was the Tiger, here.

Last night the kittens came out - I actually saw three of them - and emptied the bowl of food I put out.Three were all standing in the window crying. I caught the two who needed their eye drops. That's when I took this picture.

I didn't think the kittens could climb up the chair to get into the window because it seems when Bella was their size she had trouble jumping on to the couch, and the chair is higher. But maybe they're more motivated out of fear. I didn't think much of it at the time. After a while I gave up on the catching the other two to check on them, I settled on administering the eye drops and went to bed.
Then I heard a noise and something made me think "I bet a kitten that could climb up to the window could make it through the kitten-size hole in the screen." So I got up to nail the screen in the two places I saw that it was loose, in the process discovering a much bigger kitten gap than I had seen before. So I decided to go out on the balcony and investigate. What I should have done is gotten the flashlight and scanned the balcony for kittens, because when I stepped outside I heard the crashing sound of a kitten jumping off the second story balcony into the very bushes where I had seen large dog sleeping earlier in the day.

I know the kitten landed on his feet though because I heard him crying on the ground after that. One of his sisters whined a little in response and I felt very bad that he was separated from his siblings.

And bad about the convention of barking dogs that proceeded to take place in the alley below my window. But I think from the sound of it the local pack was turning on one of their own rather than hunting kittens.

Ironically this guy was the one I originally named Lucky. Is he Lucky to have escaped domesticity? I don't know. Free meals, free medical care and someone who cleans up your poop in exchange for sleeping all day. I don't see a downside. At least he gets to remain wild at heart.

I hoped for for him that he would find his way back to his mother. But then I thought she will just get fleas on him again. The medicine I gave him will make him immune to fleas for six weeks but Mother will probably get the flea eggs on him and they will hatch whenever he finds himself not immune anymore. Maybe he will find himself a new home in the six weeks in between.

If not, I hope that he will make it. He was a tough guy. He was the biggest of the litter. I named him Lucky, but I started calling him Tiger because he was so feisty. He was the brave one. He once ran out from under the bureau sacrificing himself so I wouldn't go after the little sister, and thus he was first to get his medicine. He bit me once, and he was not afraid to hiss and spit but once you got him in your hands you could put him on his back and and he would show the bottoms of his little paws, how pads were black and not pink. He also had a cute little black nose.

Godspeed to you, Tiger. May all of your nine lives be long, healthy and happy. I'm sorry if I made you afraid and miserable. So afraid you were willing to jump off the balcony and chance life on the street. I hope being parasite free and having your eye goop cleared up and a few meals brought you some brief happiness. I will miss you.

Cat Lady
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

I'm about to relate a story which I already consider to be a mistake. In fact I was well aware that this was probably a bad idea when I set out to do it - but do you ever have an idea and before you can reason yourself out of it, your mind is "wedded"* to the idea. It's like "too bad-you thought of it. Now you have to do it." *PC term

There were four kittens living down the street in what would be like a man hole, only it didn't have a cover and it was square. I say "were" because I caught them and now they're living in my bedroom. I think. All four of them are MIA at the moment which leads me to think they must have gone under the bed and crawled up into the box spring. Otherwise I have no clue.

I thought I would take in these four adorable babies and sequester them in my room, since I'm sleeping on the couch anyway, and foster them until I can find homes for them. I already bathed, trimmed the claws and flea shampooed all of them, and applied the necessary medicine which prevents them from getting fleas again for 6 weeks. However, I thought they would be a little more social - or easy to socialize. These babies hate me. They are hissy and bitey.

I thought they would be like Bella who when she was that age stayed all night in the cardboard box I put her in - even when she had to stay in the kitchen. These guys take off for the nearest corner as soon as I put them in the box. Two of them need eye drops like Bella did when I first got her but those two were not to be found this morning. And I thought they would take to Bella like a new mom. Bella is curious about them, but they are scared of her.

Last night I was plagued with guilt about how their poor mother must feel after I stole her four babies! Even though I know I did it because for their own good! I thought a flea bath and regular food would be good for them. I was dead set on finding them homes (before next Wednesday when I leave for the next camp). Now I'm having nightmares about dead kittens being stuck inside my furniture. None of them have eaten any of the food I put out for them yet, and I'm afraid I made a bad experience for them worth with the bathing them, and the twice catching them from their hiding places in the bedroom so I could administer the flea and eye medicines. Now I can 't find a one.

This may have been a mistake. But at least I realized catching their mother so I wouldn't have to separate her from her babies was a worse idea. She too would need a flea bath before she could become a guest in my lovely home and I don't think she would have been as accommodating as the kittens. I think she would have killed me.

Rest assured I have no intention of living with 5 cats, so even if these guys don't find homes and I have to get a sitter while I'm at camp, I'm still looking for a volunteer or a Romanian family to take them in. Unfortunately there's only room on the plane home for one cat, but there's room in my heart for all of them. If I can't find homes for them I have a lead on a Deva animal shelter where they can go.

In the meantime everyone I know in Deva has been mobilized to find a home for these feral kittens. I even have my number up on the bulletin board at my local vet's office. Now let's hope they come out from hiding so I can give them away!

Inner Rock Star
The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps, of which I am a proud volunteer.

I've never been someone who listened to music everywhere I went. I was kind surprised by this ear bud phenomenon. I've never been someone who walks around "plugged in." Even when I got my shiny MP3 player for Christmas I often forgot to bring it with me or forgot to put on some tunes if I was with other people. Therefore, sadly my last year in Romania has been mostly music-free. However, I recently took a train trip and realized the appeal of the ear bud culture. Now those ipod commercials with the dancing people finally make sense to me. When I have the ear buds in I don't have to give a care about anything. I don't even have to listen to my own thoughts! It's amazing.

I had forgotten how much energy one can get from music. It's like being plugged in to a battery, constantly recharging my strength and motivation to make through the day - like a strong cup of tea or a good fruit smoothie - and right now my fruit of choice is Queen (pun intended. Freddie forgive.)

I have been a Queen fan for a long time but I couldn't say I've been a big Queen fan. They are one of the bands I always liked but never owned any of their music, with the exception of the Bohemian Rhapsody single one side and Show must go on the other. However, by now I am proud to say that I am very close to accomplishing a goal I've had for my life since I was in high school - which is to learn all the words to Killer Queen.

For various reasons last week I decided it would be a good time to electronically acquire all of Queen's Greatest Hits Platinum Collection disks 1 through 3. And that last Tuesday would be a good day to listen to "Somebody to Love" for 11 hours straight. Then Saturday when I got on the train it was a nonstop jam session. The second train ride was about a half hour long and I couldn't sit still. Well today on the way home it was the same thing. My train was originally 20 minutes late. Not a good because I had an eight minute layover to make a connection. When I finally got on a brand shiny new train, I was told it was direct to Deva. Great! Especially considering I slept all of 3 and half hours the night before. Did I sleep? Not at all. It was a 100% Queen concert in my head. This was a nice train but it was what is call a cattle car. It's all open seating inside, no private compartments. And that was fine. It was happily lip-snyching and fidgeting in my seat until the very delayed train started moving again after an inexplicable 40 minute stop at a small village station, and I realized that I was the only one in my train car. Time to sing. I sang and sang whatever I wanted for about 35 minutes when I got up to walk to the back of the train car and wait for my station. That's when I noticed that the front of the car I was in opened up right to the train conductor. Not the guy who comes and checks the tickets - the guy driving the train, was listening to me the whole time.

Nothing to be too embarrassed about. I went to the back of the train and shut the door so I was in the little private room waiting by the door for the train to stop at my station. Two stations early. And I closed the door so I figured now I was really safe to belt out "Somebody to Love" at the TOP of my lungs. And I was standing in the moving train with the hand rails by which I could hold on to as I danced/prevented myself from falling. Then I noticed that though the door closed, the space above the door was completely open and I was not sealed in my happy little compartment.

"I try and I try and I try! But everybody wants to put me down..."

Maybe I would be more embarrassed if I had actually seen the train driver and made eye contact with him or if I knew that he understood English. It's possible he was driving the train with his own ear buds in.