first communion

I had my first real (not Unitarian animal cracker and grape juice ireverent) communion this morning. I was at Union Bridge Church of the Brethren. The sermon was about Leah, Rachel, & Jacob, but mostly Leah. He told about an unsuccessful fishing trip and that our life, like Leah's life is disappointing. Having read The Red Tent recently, I think of Leah as a capable strong woman, not a perpetually disappointed one. Interesting.

And we all had bread (so gross and not cooked all the way through) and grape juice. And sang some hymns and prayed.

Praise Jesus.

drop off day

I spent most of yesterday wandering around Pleasant Valley looking for work. The ones in charge here dropped off J (a girl who loves "What the Bleep. . .?"), S (a young 18), and I and told us to find work. So we started door-knocking, asking people if they had any chores we could help them with for free.

Unsurprisingly, people were a bit wary of three kids in matching purple T-shirts asking to mow their lawn.

I was nearly mauled by a crazy dalmatian.

We did find one family willing to take us up on it. We picked green beans for 45 minutes and they served us lunch. After eating lunches that cost less than $0.75 per person for the past week, potato chips, root beer, and swiss cheese had never tasted so good.

No one else wanted our labor. We offred to polish the fire trucks at the volunteer fire station and were turned down.

And the whole thing was supposed to teach us that it is hard to serve, that the people that we think need help might not, or any other trite service-related truism you could name.

recent lessons

I have learned quite a bit in my days here in charming New Windsor:

Peeling, grating, and frying 15 pounds of potatoes takes a long time & leaves one not wanting to think about spuds ever again.

The library system in Kent, Ohio does not stock R rated movies. I have no intention of ever living in Kent, Ohio.

It is 99% certain that I will be in Serbia starting in October.

The Brethren chuch is anti-alcohol and, in some circumstances, anti-dancing. I wanted to adjust the joke about the Mennonites [Why don't Mennonites have sex standing up? They're afraid it might lead to dancing.], but I didn't think it would go over well.

'Feminist' is a dirty word in Germany as well as in the US.

Horses sleep on straw. They do not eat it.

I am the only one here who does not have a personal relationship with God.

nearly killed by a ninja turtle

I'm in Maryland now, but was in New York City two nights ago. After Bataan Death Marching throughout Manhattan in inapropriate shoes while having inappropriate conversations with E (it all felt very Sex and the City), we met up with her nearly boycreature, the ninja turtle. We found a bar that had Rogue and enjoyed ourselves. E related The Epic Saga of He Who Shall Not Be Named. It made me sad to think that I won't get to hear that story again for a while. And at last call, 3:15, we started heading back to scenic suburban New Jersey.

The ninja turtle was driving. He was fiddling with his ipod to make it broadcast to the car radio. He was driving across a bridge. A lane was closed off for construction. There were traffic barrels (not cones, huge orange barrels) in the road to make people merge. Distracted, the ninja turtle sideswiped one, hitting it with his rearview mirror. I was glad to be sitting on the other side of the car.

Now the rear view mirror on his rental car hangs limping from the car, dangling from a few cables.

incommunicado

I leave tomorrow morning.
After a brief visit with E in scenic Iselin, NJ, I'll be in rural Brethrenland (AKA New Windsor, MD). After a 3 week indoctrination, they will let me loose to go to an as-yet-undetermined place in the states until October, when I go to Serbia.

I will have internet access, but not much. One computer (that I am not expecting to be very speedy) for 21 of us. And not a lot a free time.

I'll update when I can.

Expect a postcard.

anxiety overcome

Monday afternoon, I was biking up a steep hill on San Juan Island looking out over the Sound, hoping to see a whale. I didn't see any whales, but I did have a small panic. I had to stop to catch my breath.

The northwest is the most beautiful place I know, the place that feels most like home. Why am I leaving it? I couldn't come up with any good reasons.

Since Monday, I have.

Yesterday, I ran into a girl I was in church youth group with. KA is two years younger than me and getting married next summer. She had just left an appointment with her wedding florist. Do I really want to be in a place where people consult with wedding florists a year in advance?

Today, my mom took me to World Wide Books & Maps, an amazing store in Wallingford. Walls filled with travel guides and travel fiction and non-fiction. Hundreds of maps. It was where my mom went to get a road map of Costa Rica last year. I went in search of a guidebook for Serbia. I have had a lot of trouble locating one earlier & would much prefer to have a guidebook that extensively covers where I'll be living - not just 5 pages in someone's Eastern Europe guidebook. And I found it. Bradt's Serbia, the first English language guidebook for Serbia. It was first published in March. There is something so exciting about going somewhere that has only had an English-language guidebook for 4 months.

Apparently people eat a lot of pizza in Belgrade. And beer costs less than a dollar. I think I can handle that.

Now I just need to track down a Serbian-English dictionary and some Serbian language tapes. . .

more time wasting

I've just spent an hour playing with Google Earth. It's amazing. If you have some time and a speedy connection, it is highly recommended.

I can now say I've seen every place I have ever lived from space. And I know the quickest route from Greece to Cairo, in case I should ever need it.

more on abstinence

I was talking to my dad about this whole anti-kissing thing last night.
His exact words:

"You know that your mother and I expect you to have sex with and live with whoever it is you end up marrying for a while before you get married."

That is what they did, so I always thought that I was expected to as well. Regardless, my dad encouraging me to have premarital sex is a bit strange.

My family is so immoral.



In other news, Jon Stewart finally grew a spine during last night's interview on The Daily Show. It was amazing.

in praise of kissing

I spent yesterday evening with T, my married friend.

Since she lives in the suburbs and has relatives who attend megachurches, she serves as my defacto informant on the latest trends in the evangelical community.

The latest trend is that kissing is bad. Her 5 year old niece is enrolled in a church affiliated class called "You Only Get One Kiss," basically conservative sex-ed for the kindergarten set. In addition to promoting sexual abstinence, the class teaches the kids that they are not supposed to kiss.

Another example:
T was in a suburban outpost of The Evil Empire. Some sort of Christian youth group was meeting there as well. Overheard: "I've been dating her for 18 months and we haven't kissed yet." This statement was followed by applause from everyone else there, as if such a thing is desirable and not a sign of a seriously flawed relationship.

I don't get it. What's the harm of kissing? It's fun (usually). It's free (usually). It doesn't cause pregnancy (always). If anything, these people should encourage their kids to kiss, only kiss. Sexual urges need some sort of outlet - masturbation is already disallowed, I believe.

Why ban kissing? I can't come up with a compelling reason. Maybe it's a gateway to other things?

Studies show that kids who are given abstinence-only sex ed end up having a lot more unprotected sex once they start having sex. Will kids who are told not to kiss end up making out all day long?

quilting notes

I have been working on a quilt since September 2003. I am making it by hand, which means it is verrrrrrrrrrrry slow going. I am nearly done with the quilt top (that is the part that is the design, for those of you not up on your quilting lingo).

I went to a few fabric stores with my mother yesterday and I now own all of the ingredients to make it. Finding fullsize batting (The slightly puffy stuff that goes inside the quilt) was no trouble. I had a lot of trouble finding the right backing (the fabric that goes on the back of the fabric). My quilt is a scrap quilt (AKA no color scheme) with a star-like pattern. So I wanted something with multi-colored stars on it. Surprisingly hard to find. It took 3 stores to find an acceptable pattern. Apparently, stars are not hip with the quilters these days. The only star fabrics that are manufactured are hideous red white and blue patriotic monstrosities. But I found one, tomato red with navy, green, and yellow, white, and light blue stars on it.

And maybe it will only take me another 2 years to finish the quilt.
I am hoping to find a Serbian sewing circle.

Boulevard of nightmares

The 2005 Seattle Street of Dreams is within walking distance of my parents' house. We went there yesterday.

It is hard to articulate the garishness and gradiosity of those homes. My parents have a large 4bed/2.5bath home. There are rooms in it that are rarely used. It is more space than we ever needed. All of the street of dreams houses were at least 3 times as large as my parents and contained no more bedrooms. Who needs a massage room or three ovens or two kitchens or a flat screen TV built into the wall of every room?

There were some things that I did like, though. There was a bathtub with jacuzzi jets, a fireplace, and a flat screen TV with surround sound. I would no longer need to set up my laptop near the bathtub so I can watch movies in the tub. There was a home theater filled with rows of armchairs and couches, like a smaller, classy version of the Kennedy School. There were some great distressed wood desks. I wouldn't mind such things.

Probably the most frightening aspect of the tour was the other people wandering through the homes. Many had their digital cameras out, taking pictures of the things they wanted in the houses they were planning to build.

I can handle the Boulevard of Nightmares when it is a statistical outlier, but when there is the possibility of its garishness infecting all of the McMansions under construction, I am horrified.

not for parents' eyes

I recently recieved this from K, the woman who coordinates European placements for BVS. (Going to Serbia is nearly certain for me at this point.):

PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT

Threats against Women in Black

For the past months, and in particular during the past week, following the disclosure of the full range of crimes committed by the regime of Slobodan Milosevic during the wars of the 1990s against the civil population in neighboring countries and in Serbia, and with the upcoming anniversary of the genocide in Srebrenica, various forms of pressure are growing against the civil society in our country. Of course, Women in Black are not exempt from this pressure, whose persistent opposition to criminal politics and its protagonists many cannot forget. These pressures take many forms:

• Tens of anonymous threats towards Women in Black, addressed to us daily by various extremist organizations and groups, mainly of neo-Nazi orientation, upon announcement of the public marking of the anniversary of genocide in Srebrenica (the action “Let us Not Forget” – Genocide in Srebrenica, July 10^th, 2005 from 19.30 – 20.30h on Republic Square, Belgrade)
• Intensive control of financial records (which have been shown to be completely regular)
• A tragic-comedic situation, which is reflected in the fact that the organs of the Ministry of Interior Affairs have so seriously taken the charge against our organization submitted to the cabinet of the Minister of Internal Affairs by a known offender and disturber of public order and peace from a town in the interior of Serbia, that our coordinator, Stasa Zajovic, recently nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize (1000 women for the Nobel Peace Prize 2005) was recently called for questioning before the city department of the interior, in order to confirm whether or not Women in Black is involved in the organization of prostitution. This would all be amusing, if in question wasn’t such an important institution as is the police, who, with the lack of will to persecute war crimes suspects or to prevent a neo-Nazi concert in Novi Sad, are instead investigating the basis of the most absurd of charges.
• These are only some of the forms of the permanent attempt to criminalize Women in Black. The growth of nervousness among worried patriots and their followers is understandable, facing the growing consciousness of the population of our country that the time has come when we must clearly and unambiguously repudiate support for the criminals among us. However, the passivity of some segments of the authorities is neither understandable nor acceptable, in relation to the seriousness of the possible consequences of such nervousness, and particularly worrying are the indications that some individuals or even entire institutions are tacitly or openly cooperating with these extremists.

July 6, 2005
Women in Black, Belgrade

Good thing: my soon-to-be boss has been nominated for the nobel prize.
Bad thing: my soon-to-be boss is suspected of running a prostitution ring.

highlights

and there were some great moments of the trip as well:

We camped in the redwoods one night. The nature program that night was on banana slugs. There were songs. There were musical instruments for the kids in the audience. The rum and cokes we imbibed at the campsite increased the entertainment value of the evening. And now I cannot get the banana slug version of 'twist and shout' out of my head.

A day at climbing across the oregon dunes and swimming in the ocean.

We stayed with F at her aunt's in Coos Bay. The aunt's 14 and 15 year old granddaughters were there as well. They are uber-girls. They tan. They get manicures and pedicures. They talk about calories. We spent a fun hour trying on hideous dresses in the local Ross before watching Mr. and Mrs. Smith, which exceeded my admittedly low expectations.

I lost $2 to the Star Wars slot machine in F's tribe's casino. It was my first casino gambling experience.

And I saw some amazing art in Sacramento courtesy of R.

And after a delayed flight back, I spoke with a giddy giddy E.

one less friend

So I was travelling for nine days in California & Oregon. It was okay.
Commence massive update:

I lost a friend. She didn't die, we're just obviously not friends anymore. She was who I spent most of the vacation visiting.

She was mean and moody and inconsistent in her expectations for me. On our way out of Davis, we needed to return a movie. I held it in my lap. We were most of the way out of town, when she saw it. She became angry with me for not reminding her that we needed to return it. (Having only spent 36 hours in Davis, I wasn't super aware of how to get back to the movie store.) The following day, we were driving through the redwoods. I noticed a sign for a drive-thru tree at the next exit. I mentioned it. (Our conversations were monosyllabic on her end by this point.) Ten miles past the exit, she asked me if I wanted to see the tree. I said that we passed it 15 minutes ago. She expressed annoyance that I had not fully explained the location of the tree previously, that she would like me to remind her of things.

So the following day I did. Her parents made plans to call her at 7pm. At ten 'til I reminded her of that and she started yelling at me. We were in a store; I walked outside and cried in the parking lot.

I asked her how she wanted me to be and what I could do so the trip would be fun. She said she didn't want to talk about it. I don't think I can be her friend if she is unwilling to talk about such things.

I spent much of the ride back south reading aloud David Sedaris - an enjoyable time and a convinient way of avoiding interacting.

and that's one less postcard that I will need to send from Belgrade.