JessimecaB's Xanga

Thursday, July 03, 2008

Thu, 03 Jul 2008 01:16:31 GMT

Don't forget to check out my blog at www.reporterherald.com!!

Hey friends...

Wed, 07 Nov 2007 04:57:02 GMT

I am living in Ukraine and everything is a huge education. Every moment. It's kind of exhausting. I don't have internet in my town so getting to internet is hectic and doesn't occur often. I've been posting blogs through my town newspaper at http://www.reporterherald.com/blogs/blog.asp?bid=10902 but have found it too difficult to also get over here to post blogs. So. Please check in there for news on what I'm doing. Sorry I won't be able to post here anymore! Another reason that I'm letting this one go is that my sister is designing an awesome personal Web site for me that I will write on and hopefully post photos (?). I will update on where to come find me. I hope you check in and comment!! Thanks for being my friends. :)

aaah! I am in Ukraine

Sat, 06 Oct 2007 07:25:55 GMT

Last Monday I thought, "Next Monday I will be in Ukraine. In Ukraine ." Well, now I am in Ukraine. I arrived in Kiev on Monday. The travel was a blur of sleepiness, delayed flights, general confusion, following signs, and standing in lines. I was in Kyiv for two days with the other 85 students who will eventually be teachers. We stayed in a dormitory, received more orientation and information. The toilets in our dormitory were western seats, with thick brown toilet paper. The public toilets were ceramic tiles around holes in the ground. These are typical of many eastern countries. They were clean, like any other toilet stall, just without seats. On Wednesday, we broke into assigned groups of five and traveled by bus to our training sites in small villages. Then, we broke away from our groups completely to go to our host families.

I laid in bed that first night, wide-eyed, lying in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar house with unfamiliar electricity and food, in an unfamiliar country. My feelings were mixed; confusion, sadness, fear, anticipation. I am staying with a mother, father, grandmother, grandfather and daughter. They have been amazing and welcoming. The daughter – we'll call her Sestra which is the phonetic pronunciation of 'sister' in Ukrainian – has been learning English in school and knows a little. The rest of the family knows nothing. They are eager to point at objects and get me to say them.

While we stay here we will receive at least four hours of Ukrainian language lessons a day from our Ukrainian instructor who came with us, and also lessons in technical teaching. We will have lots of homework and take field trips on Saturdays.

We are the first American Peace Corps Volunteers to come to this village. Often, volunteers come after previous ones. My host family asked to see photos; they asked about my family and America. I told them that we speculated about Ukraine before we came and know that there is a lot of vodka and potatoes. They laughed and laughed. Sestra said that they do not drink a lot of vodka in this family. I was surprised.

They have a cow and pigs. I drank milk that came from the cow, tonight. Now I will wait to see how my stomach feels about that.

Sestra asked me last night, "Do you like meat from a pig?"

"Yes, I said, "it is called pork."

"On Saturday, we will we will have that," she said. "We will kill the pig and then…"

"Then we will have pork?!" I asked, my eyes wide. And the family laughed.

Their house is nicer than I expected. They have a western toilet and a shower that rivals mine in the states. It even has an electronic radio system in the shower. The stairs up to my bedroom are so steep it's almost like a ladder. We have hot water and a washing machine.

Not all houses in the village are this nice. Our teacher has to boil water to get heated water in his house, where we have our lessons. He does not have an indoor bathroom. His outhouse is the scariest thing I've ever seen. Two pieces of board over a pit. We might be afraid we'll fall into the outhouses in the states? Not even close. Here, it is a possibility. Yesterday and today, I waited until I could get home to my nice bathroom.

While I did buy two electrical converters and adapters for my computer and curling irons, I did not buy a surge protector with the proper adaptation. I tried to plug it in the first night and there was a pop and the lights went out. My stomach dropped and I thought "Nice, I just murdered the electricity of these nice people who have let me stay in their home."

"Do you have a breaker?" I asked Sestra and she looked at me blankly. "A switch?" I asked. Her father knew what to do and the lights came back on. Then he examined the surge protector for awhile, then my other appliances, and my computer, and I kept trying to explain that I would just have to buy a protector here, and I think he finally agreed with me.

There is so much new that I have no time to be homesick (not that I don't feel a small ache when I think of my family and friends). Last night, Sestra and her family taught me a card game called "Fool" using the Russian cards I purchased on Semester at Sea. The Russian cards do not have numbers 1 to 5 and I was excited to learn how to play a game with this deck. I also did some homework, and it was frustrating. I wish I already knew the language! I really do feel like a 5-year-old. Learning how to speak, read, pronunciate, write, socialize, survive.

New thing highlights:

1. I ate several different forms of fish two nights ago, before gently letting them know that I don't like fish. I also ate mushrooms and bell pepper because I figured that one lesson regarding my pickiness was enough for one night.

2. I ate a whole piece of garlic yesterday with Borsht, a nationwide Ukrainian dish. It is a tomato and cabbage soup. Not bad. The soup, not the garlic. The garlic was okay, burned my mouth. And then I think I smelled.

I'm already craving the Internet and I'm still in the states

Fri, 28 Sep 2007 22:23:07 GMT

And I've been a horrible blogger. But there were things to do! People to visit as much as possible. Food to eat that I will be craving when I've lived on potatoes for seven months in the winter.

I'm officially a representative of the United States Peace Corps now. Arrived in Philly yesterday evening. Made some friends. Ate Philly Cheesesteaks. It seemed quite appropriate. Walked around downtown and saw the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall and Ben Franklin's house. Except it wasn't an actual house like I thought it might be. It was a tall white outline structure symbolizing where his house was before 18-something. There was even the outline of a chimney. It was kind of a letdown. We could look into these sheltered windows down below the ground and see pieces of brick floor that were actual parts of his cellar. "Are those his actual footprints?" one girl asked and pointed down at the prints in the sandy area around some brick sections. "I didn't know they had treaded shoes like that back then," I said. You'd think they could brush away the un-authentic footprints...

Checked-in today. Listened to people talk at me all afternoon and evening about culture shock in Ukraine and our expectations and language learning and the nuts and bolts of being representatives of the Peace Corps.

Just ate a cheeseburger at an expensive place downtown where the table was clear glass and inside was a skeleton. Yes, we were eating on some kind of coffin (?) Otherwise the restaurant was nice so this was quite incongruous.

Also, remember how I've often said I worked at a newspaper? I was always mysterious about what paper and never said the name for what reason I'm not sure. I don't hide the fact I live in Colorado on the Front Range. But I'll come clean now because guess what? They're letting me have a blog! I don't know if I'm spreading myself thin here because I'd like to continue to blog both places, on different topics, but we'll see how that goes. I don't know what access to Internet I'll have in Ukraine. Anyway, check it out, www..reporterherald.com. Down on the left hand bar is a "Online only" section. Click on "blogs" and I'm the second one. My first blog was put up today and I feel very official. Tell your friends. I want lots of hits. :) Cuz I'm cool, obviously.

Chapter ...

Mon, 10 Sep 2007 14:52:24 GMT

The most frightening thing about leaving to join the Peace Corps is ... that I don't like change. I don't want things to change and I don't want people to change. I'm fully expecting to go to the Ukraine and have an amazing and wrenching experience.

However, I'd prefer it if everything here stayed exactly the same. My friends can't get into serious relationships, no one is allowed to move away, nobody better die, and my sister BETTER NOT get pregnant.

I have begun to realize that that's just too bad. This chapter on my life is closing. My time at the newspaper and my column; my time at Oshkosh, where I've made some amazing friends; my close friendships apart from work; my life here. It's closing. Things won't be the same when I come back. My friends might move away, my sister will have been married for two and a half years, my favorite supervisors at the retail store might quit their jobs and move on. Nobody will pause in their lives for me.

A brand new chapter full of possibilities is opening and it's exciting ... but I also find myself resisting it today. I have three weeks and then I will go some place far away and nothing will ever be the same.

What the HELL can I be thinking of??

Also, here in Colorado, I know which day Fall started. It started Sept. 9. Yesterday. Because two days ago, it was still warm, and even the breezes were warm, and it was still summer. And then yesterday I woke up and went outside and it was overcast and the breeze was actually chilly. That chilly nip that says winter is coming and I will soon need a hat. I loved the summer and I'm not ready for cold.

But I better get ready because do you know why? Winters get frigid in Ukraine. I've been advised to bring a winter coat and long underwear. It's okay. Other than that, it'll be a one-of-a-kind experience.

Also, here's an update: My last day at the newspaper is this Thursday. I'll be joining the Peace Corps at the end of the month to teach English as a foreign language in Ukraine. I leave for Philadelphia for two days of orientation on Sept. 27. I'll learn about what's expected of me, what to expect at my post, and I'll receive immunizations. Then, on Oct. 1, I'll leave for Ukraine. The first three months there will be pre-service training. I'll live with a host family learning the language intensively, and how to teach there. I'll learn Ukrainian or Russian first, depending on what part of the country I'm posted at. After three months, I'll move to my post where I'll either live with a host family again or live in an apartment or dormitory for two years while I work. According to my Ukraine Welcome book, it's likely I'll live a "rugged" existence in a small village. I will be able to receive mail, and Internet access will be iffy. I will definitely continue to blog whenever I am able and post photos if I can. My Dad gave me the COOLEST digital camera.

Weight for it...

Fri, 07 Sep 2007 11:44:02 GMT

“What’d you weigh in at?” I asked Kathy on the Big Day.

“Go weigh in first,” she said.

“Just tell me where you’re at.”

She smirked and shook her head. “Not ’til you weigh in.”

I’ve been in a weight loss competition with several friends for the last 2 ½ months, and it ended Saturday.

The group of us who played the game each put $35 into an envelope to go to the winner. We weighed in every week and divided our total pounds lost with our original weight to get a percentage of body weight lost.

At the start, Kathy didn’t seem really into this whole idea of losing weight. We had to convince her to play.

And then we discovered her competitive streak, which got me moving. If I was going to win, I had some work to do.

She dropped 2 or more pounds a week while I sweated and panted and struggled to catch up.

Seriously, if you want to lose weight, do it with people. Preferably if you and they are competitive. Talk about it a lot. And keep on each other.

And don’t starve yourself. Just exercise more and eat less. That was my diet plan: drink lots of water. Exercise more and eat less (and better).

I was hot on Kathy’s heels, and we left everyone else behind. Saturday was the deciding factor.

My aunt and Grandma came to town this last weekend to visit. Which meant that I wasn’t the only one to show up to weigh myself in.

An entourage of parents and relatives piled into the room to watch me step on the scale. My mom even brought pie.

I blinked at the digital number that showed up, and then said it aloud in disbelief.

“Wow, Jess!” Dad said and everyone cheered. Then a flash went off as my dad took pictures.

Because I’m 8 years old and had just won the class spelling bee.

Trisha, looking on, laughed a lot. “Your family is so cute.”

I was stunned. I had really lost that much?

“Where do you write it down?” Dad asked. “This is the final weigh-in, right? You should write this down somewhere because your weight is going to go up as soon as you drink; you’re a witness right?” he asked Trisha.

“We’ll write it down; it’s fine,” I said.

Kathy walked in. “So how’d you do?” she asked.

“How’d you do?” I asked.

“You tell me first,” she said.

“No, you tell me.”

Trisha sighed and motioned at Kathy. “Tell me and I’ll write it down so no one cheats,” she said.

I moved away and could hear Trisha say, “Seriously?” after Kathy said something to her.

“What’s that mean? Did she win? Is that a ‘seriously’ like wow, she definitely won?” I asked worriedly.

Then I gave Trisha my number out of Kathy’s earshot. Then we got to see the piece of paper.

She had lost 11 percent of her body weight, and I had lost 12 percent.

I had won.

Although really, we’re all winners because we look skinny and hot, but still. I won.

Now, I just have to keep it off.

Column published Sept. 5 in the newspaper where I'm a news assistant and weekly columnist.

Going to the park

Mon, 27 Aug 2007 11:51:24 GMT

A supervisor at my second part time job at Oshkosh called me at 11:30 a.m. on Saturday. "Sorry, we have to cut your hours today."

"Aw man," I said. "Then what am I working?"

"We had to cut your hours completely. You're not working at all."

"Oh, okay," I said sadly. I got off the phone and thought about it. Okay, I can handle this, I thought to myself. Being forced to take a break from working nonstop will help me get some stuff done today.

I called my friend Marie. "Looks like I'm not working after all. They cut my hours. Still want to go to a movie today?"

"Sure," she said. "I have to run errands all afternoon so why don't you find a time for after 5, and we'll go then?"

We settled on 5:45 p.m. and she said she'd pick me up at 4:30 in her brand new toyota corolla. Yes, brand new. A 2008. And because everyone in her life have become Dave Ramsey clones, she's gotten a lot of sighs and head-shakings and lectures about getting more debt. I sighed and head-shook, and then decided to be supportive.

She picked me up and showed me all the buttons in her car. "Look at what this one does, and this will tell me when the air in my tires is low! And it has automatic windows! And not one, but TWO cigarette lighters."

"This is very nice," I said, "but shouldn't we be getting to the movie?"

We drove away from the house and then she turned the wrong direction. "If it's okay, I really need to stop by that park by the lake. I walked the dog there yesterday and left one of her toys. It was kind of expensive."

"Oh, okay," I said. "We're going to be late."

"We'll be fine," she said.

We drove to the park and I remained sitting in the car.

"What are you doing?" Marie asked. "You're helping me."

"Right," I said and got out of the car.

"I think I left it over here," she said as we walked. I searched the ground for a toy.

"What color is it?" I asked.

"Uh, orange."

"I think it's over here," she said again purposefully.

"Okay, I'm looking," I said. Then I glanced up and the pavilion in front of me had a big sign that said "We'll miss you, Jessica" Then I focused on the people. There were people from Oshkosh, people I knew growing up at church, a friend from the newspaper, my family and old friends. "Surprise!" they burst out. And I realized this was the surprise party I'd been expecting to occur in a couple weeks. Everybody there to celebrate that I'll be leaving in a month.

I was very embarrassed. And astounded at all the lying that had gone on.

I found out last Friday that I'll be going to the Ukraine with the Peace Corps Sept. 28. I'm leaving soon! And I'm going to learn Ukrainian. Hopefully I'll be able to continue to blog while I'm gone. I'll be teaching English as a second language and I'm very excited, although also melancholy because of everything I'm leaving behind...

Oh the glorious comments

Mon, 20 Aug 2007 17:32:09 GMT

I've lost 14 pounds. 14. 14. It's because I've been part of this competition at my second job Oshkosh.

And it's made a huge difference in how I look. I look at myself and don't see much difference, because I can still see my belly and thighs underneath the clothes. But on the outside of the clothes, I look hot! And how do I know this? Because people keep bringing it up. It's great.

Reporter who sits near me at work: "Jessica, you are looking svelte, sitting over there looking all skinny," she says in awe.

Brother of my best friend: "Do you ... mind asking my asking how much weight you've lost?" he asks hesitantly, afraid of offending. After all, I am a girl. And girls are very sensitive to issues of the body.

Reporter at work who I don't know that well: "I don't mean this to sound rude .. but you look like you've lost a lot of weight." Rude? Not rude at all! The best news of all time.

Fellow news assistant: "Hey skinny-minny, you look great!"

Sister: "You're looking toned." She went on to say how it was funny that people often said one looks toned if they don't really think they look that different. So by the end, it had almost become not a compliment. Then she giggled, "I don't mean you, I don't mean you..."

Best friend after staring at me very hard while I walk back to the table at a restaurant: "I don't you you need to lose any more weight. You'll waste away," she says, looking concerned.

"THANK you," I say, beaming. "But sorry, I'm not done."

(Almost, but not quite)

Bikes, bars, bands ... and me

Fri, 10 Aug 2007 11:01:30 GMT

I went to Road 34, a tavern and deli in Fort Collins, last week to listen to a band. Had never been there.

Didn't, in fact, realize that a bar that caters to bicyclists existed. That's because I'm a very sheltered person.

"Didn't you go to CSU?" my friend asked me when I wanted to know how to get to this place. She was confused that I didn't know where a certain hall on campus was that was across from the bar.

"No, I went to school in Nebraska," I said. I will not say anything disparaging about Nebraska, however, because I have friends who are from there and I think I might hurt their feelings.

"Oh," my friend said, and sounded confused.

I went with a group of friends to listen to "Janos," formerly "The Bends," from Las Cruces, N.M., who opened for another band. Visit them at www.myspace.com/janosbandmusic .

They were doing a tour through Colorado, and I know someone who is a cousin of a band member, which is how I ended up at this bar I didn't know about.

The owners also own the bike shop next door.

Some people were even wearing biker shorts at the bar. And there were bicycles hanging from the ceiling, and it was a wide open space that didn't make me feel claustrophobic, and there were couches. It was kind of cool.

At their MySpace Web site, www.myspace.com/road34bikebar, it says, "We created this place so people that actually ride bikes have somewhere to take them and not be looked down upon because it's not the 'latest and greatest' crap out there," which I think is awesome as I bike to and from work.

It was even new enough to not have absorbed the essence of cigarettes into its walls, which seems to have happened with some of the older bars.

The band was good. Plenty upbeat but mellow for a rock band.

Somehow I ended up playing pool with two friends. If a person wants to feel better about themselves and their pool game, they should play me.

I know the basics of how to hold a pool cue. And that it's even called a pool cue (It is called a pool cue, right?).

Other than that, if I manage to get the stupid white ball to make it over to the red-striped ball, and manage to convince the white ball to actually touch the red-striped ball and nudge it somewhere, it's a miracle.

Once, I even popped the ball so it sailed over the target, continued on past the edge of the felt, and the wood, and bounced across the floor under the feet of the people on the other side of the room.

I pretended I didn't exist at that point, and hadn't even heard of this game called pool.

That seemed to be the best plan.

My friends brushed it off and only laughed at me a little. I retired the cue soon after and kind of wished I knew how to play pool.

Another band played later, and they had worked hard to look like rockers.

Two of them were without shirts. One of them was very fond of his long, crimped brown locks.

I know this because every few seconds, after he'd scream into the microphone, he'd add some rousing guitar strums and head-bang his glorious mane of hair like a true rock star. And they did a shrieky thing that was jarring and repeatedly got higher and higher into some kind of roaring crescendo that left us breathless.

Someone passed down earplugs, and I was never so grateful.

And parentlike and old, as this is what Dad does at church because the band is too loud, but still. Grateful.

Published Aug. 8 in the newspaper where I'm a news assistant.

Also...

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 11:55:21 GMT

The night before last, I had a dream. A Peace Corps lady with an annoyingly gentle voice called to let me know that I would not be going to Eastern Europe in September straight off. I was being assigned to help on a movie set in some foreign place. Vague on where.Maybe Asia or Africa? It would last a month, through the end of the filming, and then they'd assign me to something else.

I didn't have my wits about me to wonder why a movie was relevant to bettering the life of a culture, except for all the Americans who would be moved to tears by its poignancy?

In the middle of our discussion, Mom yelled at me about something. I covered the mouthpiece and shouted back at her, then we had a small row. Then I kicked a chair over. Then I walked into the back yard, put the phone back to my ear, and said, "Sorry about that," very nicely.

The soft-spoken lady was disturbed. "That wasn't good," she said. I was suddenly afraid that the outburst had harmed my chances of going.

"Sorry, we've been in a fight all morning," I said.

"Tell that to someone who believes you," the lady said.

"Well, why don't you tell me more about this movie," I said, feeling panicky.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said. I slowly crawled back to consciousness, my heart pounding, scared because I'd gotten in a fight with my mom and now couldn't join the Peace Corps. Then I laid there for a moment, remembering that that hadn't really happened and everything was okay.

And maybe I should work on my anger problem? :)