I failed my driver’s test five times. But even I know about the dangers of the blind spot. And yet, I was totally oblivious until tonight.
Thank you #1, for reminding me that sometimes what we are looking for is right behind us.

I am very sad. Tomorrow will be a better day.

Photo by Daniel Cuthberg.

I own the exact same doll. Her name is Masha. Masha can say “mama” when you gently lean her head forward and she can close her eyes when you put her in bed. My Masha is safe and whole at home, neatly packed and stored, a nostalgic reminder of my childhood days and the Ukraine. This Masha was left behind in the rumble of Chernobyl’s devastation exactly twenty years ago.

My heart goes out to her owner, whose life turned upside down in the nano-second of the explosion. And to all the countless victims of the poisonous radiation and the even more poisonous political irresponsibility. I don’t want to think about it, really. But sometimes when an image this strong hits so close to home, I can’t help but get mad at it all.

You know you have studied enough sociology of religion when you receive the spam below and you know what it is talking about it without having to Wiki it. Kinda scary.

From: “Neateye”
To: Me
Subject: Gouranga

Call out Gouranga be happy…
Gouranga Gouranga Gouranga
That which brings the highest happiness!

Can this be healthy? I don’t think so. It tasted surprisingly well.

Photo courtesy of Kyle. Mutant courtesy of Weis grocery stores.

Easter egg fights are fun. I had a small gathering at my place. Notice my Chinese-inspired egg (there are two extra stars in my version,oops), the Easter Bunny egg (looks more like the Easter village idiot), and the name egg (this one I got right).

There was a lot of eating involved, everyone was full and the plates were empty (see above). And there was a lot of dancing and singing, but that was just me. Too bad I didn’t take any pictures of my impersonation of Whitesnake. I will have to wait for Petya to develop her roll. Apparently, Whitesnake are not a good band to be a fan of these days. If you are, everyone will make fun of you. In a mean way. That’s OK, David Coverdale, I will still love you, just a bit more discreetly.

Also, we discovered that Bulgarian headache pills have codeine in them. Dude, it’s headache medicine, not brain tumor medicine.

All in all, it was great. Thanks to everyone who came.

I want a Sunday kind of love
(more…)

Jenn left a comment on Sally’s blog about this website that features overheard conversations from NYC. They are so funny, ha.

Old man #1: Do you know why a bunny is connected to Easter?
Old man #2: No.
Old man #1: It’s because Easter is about fertility and rabbits are animals that are always copulating.
Old man #2: Huh, I never heard about that.
Old man #1: Think about it. On Easter, you have the bunnies and the bunnies have eggs and the eggs have children in them.
–Penn Station
Overheard by: Amanda Matteis

Customer: I’d like a bagel with Honey Walnut cream cheese.
Cashier: No Honey Walnut. Strawberry.
Customer: Is there anything besides Strawberry that’s sweet?
Cashier: We have Vegetable. But that’s not sweet.
–Dunkin’ Donuts, Bensonhurst

Chick: Yeah, our RA put up this poster listing these words we’re not
supposed to say because they’re offensive.
Guy: What can’t you say?
Chick: “Bitch”, “retarded”, “gay”, “fag”, “slut”, and “gypped”.
Guy: “Gypped”? Why “gypped”?
Chick: I dunno, it’s offensive to gypsies or something.
Guy: Do gypsies even go to NYU, let alone college?
Chick: Maybe she’s from Romania and shit.
–Hayden Hall Residence, Washington Square West

Last night marked my first Tuesday night out. Probably the first ever, but definitely the first in graduate school. It was great. Fantastisch. Seriously, much better than sleep.
We made plans to celebrate Easter this weekend and my mom just send me some recipes. I am kind of nervous, because baking is certainly not my forte.
This was supposed to be an entry about Kyle, but I just can’t get inspired. You need special inspiration to write about Kyle, that much I can tell you. He will have to wait until a more creative muse strikes me.

Have you ever been so sleepy when you wake up, that later in the day dreams and reality start to blend? Honestly, I cannot quite tell you if I talked to my brother this morning or if I dreamt of talking to my brother in the last minutes of denial before I got out of bed. I know I was out of my bed between 8 and 10. But was I awake? I know for a fact that I took a shower, because my hair is still a bit wet, but that’s about it.

I also looked for my homework assignment sheet, determined that I had lost it, together with my class notes on what we were supposed to do for the homework. It’s due tomorrow, so I am off to the sociology tower to find nice people who can clue me in. Clearly, I have to find someone, since I need to finish it today. We seem to use the word clearly a lot lately. Clearly, inappropriately, because things are far from clear to me.

…(later the same day)

I was on my way to the sociology department, which is immediately next to the poli sci department and then I saw a fellow grad student, whose identity will be protected by the presudonim Pseudonimous ABD. Pseudonimous ABD had not seen the sun in three days, so I dragged him outside to see it. We were talking about his awesome progress on his dissertation:

Pseudonimous ABD (enthusiastically): So, I finished this chapter and I have this fantastic model and all this theory that will change political science forever. Wanna hear about it?
Me (avoiding anything that might center the conversation on work): I have these new sandals. What do you think?
Pseudonimous ABD (pretending to ignore my lack of desire to talk about work): They are sexy. Here is my model on page 35, it has cool arrows and links. And it is formalized with rational choice equations on pages 36-40. What do you think?
Me: It’s sexy too. Let’s eat lunch.

So, we went downtown. We ate lunch. An hour later, I dragged myself back to campus. Then I found Julie. I got the assignment. I am sitting in the soc lab. I logged on to the data server. Clearly, I am making progress:

Now, I don’t want to jinx this, but I was provoked by Petya’s discussion of the stars tonight to take a peek at my horoscope for tomorrow:

Business prospects land in your lap and new romantic prospects fly into your arms. The going is pretty good right now, and you’re wondering what you did to deserve this. Make the most of these opportunities.

Yes, yes, I will. Just let them land in my lap and fly into my arms.

Edit (2:20 pm, Monday). Wow! I got an award that I was very nervous about, but now I am so, so, so HAPPY. This is really a great opportunity. Now, the day is still long, I have hopes that the romantic prospects will go through as well Either way, it’s party time. Of course, party is defined in loose terms to mean less freaking out about comps for the night and an actual dinner as opposed to PB & J on German wheat.

Edit (9:30 pm, Monday). Okay, if someone was planning to fly in, they are running out of time.

Petya invited me to a fabulous party on Friday night. I was dead tired and literally crawled out of my bed to go to it, but it was totally worth it. Especially the discussion about famous Bulgarians. Here is the mass e-mail that I sent out today, which pretty much should give you an idea about the controversies covered that night:

Dear all,
In order to dispel your skepticism about God, Orpheus, and other famous Bulgarians, here are the ultimate sources (as promised to Will) to prove that Petya and I do know our history:

God:
“It all went down on the 17th of November, 1993 at Parc des Princes, Paris. This was the last qualification match, who’s winner would go on to the World Cup. In the case of a draw, Bulgaria would be eliminated, because of France’s better scoring record. The main concern of the French team was not losing. … At exactly 89:59, according to the clocks, the [Bulgarian] shot hit the upper post of the French goal… The entire stadium was silenced as the ball landed behind the horrified French goalkeeper.
All 60,000 spectators on Parc des Princes watched in stunned disbelief as their hopes and two-year-long work in qualifications crumbled down.
Meanwhile, the Bulgarian commentator was in a state of frenzy, yelling at the top of his lungs “God is Bulgarian! God is Bulgarian!”"

Even the EU Commission admitted to God’s national origin - “I remember well when a dozen years ago, Bulgaria won its qualification to the World Cup 1994 after an epic match against the French team. I was told that the commentator of this match, when Bulgaria finally scored for victory, claimed that “God is Bulgarian”. This might be true.”

Orpheus:
“One of humankind’s earliest and most influential stories of Love and Death comes from the civilization buried beneath Bulgaria today. This inspiring Thracian story of revelation and inspiration has been adopted by the Greeks, Romans and anyone with a feeling for the Arts: past, present and future. …Orpheus is said to have come from Bulgaria’s southern Rhodope Mountains. Here in the sheltered Valley of Roses are grown millions of roses, from which comes the world’s purest attar of roses. Over 4000 of the country’s caves, some including prehistoric paintings, have been explored and mapped hereabouts. The region is rich in Thracian artifacts.”

Obviously, the Greeks are trying to steal him:
“Bulgarian and Greek tour operators have come at odds over advertising campaigns using the name of the mythical Orpheus, MPA reports.
Greek operators from the Evros region are working on an advert with the slogan “Come to the land of the mythical Orpheus,” but at the same time their Bulgarian colleagues voiced their disagreement with that campaign, as “it would be a twist of History.”
… The mythical Orpheus is believed to have lived in the Rodophes mountain. Orpheus grave was unearthed in Bulgaria in the summer of 2004, but still, there is controversial information whether he lived in the Bulgarian or the Greek part of the mountain chain.”

The Truth: “Orpheus lived in Bulgaria,” … “Greeks say he was Greek, but it’s not true, that is simply Greek nationalism.”

The proof lies in his Bulgarian grave and the story about it.

Finally, if you are worried about the rising cost of living in the UK, you can still buy relatively inexpensive Bulgarian property from Orpheus (Int’l).

John Atanasoff was Bulgarian too! His first and middle names are deceiving.

Well, I believe this should clarify all confusion that ever existed on the matter. For further proofs, just google “God is Bulgarian” and “Bulgarian Orpheus,” like I did . Or just invite us to another party!

Cheers,
Elena

Ha, writing this letter was way more fun than studying for comps. Way more fun. Plus, what are comprehensive exams for a Bulgarian. A joke!

I was working hard, I swear. That is, before Petya took a picture. Never mind that this is not my desk or even office. Okay, I was thinking about work

I was walking behind a very pretty girl on my way to class today. She was talking on her cell phone. I could not help but overhear:

So, this guy really only wants to sleep with me. It’s pathetic. I can’t believe it that he does not even pretend. You know, act like he cares or something. {silence}. Yeah, I know.
{5 minute hysterical laughter}. Yeah, can you imagine that he is so immature? He is a Ph.D. student after all, I though grad students were more like grown ups and stuff.

Girlie, you thought wrong.