Silence

When I was younger, I was deathly afraid of silence. Of course, I feel disingenuous saying "When I was younger", because I really mean "only up until recently"; and by "only up until recently", I really mean within the last couple of weeks. I never would have admitted it, of course; who's afraid of silence? Me?

But I would pour out words rather than deal with the silence. I would rather interrupt than risk a pause in the conversation. I would talk about myself rather than wait to listen to friends, just because I knew what was going on in my life, and what if my friends didn't feel comfortable opening up?

It's only in retrospect that I've realized how generally bad at conversation I can be. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I can be very on-point; sometimes, my wits are exactly the right level of sharp, my tone is the right level of wry or sarcastic, my insights are funny or thought-provoking. But this is, quite honestly, the exception rather than the rule. And even when I feel like a conversation has been a resounding success, 90% of the time I feel that way because I actually just missed the point.

It all goes back to the silence. It's easier to talk when there isn't silence, when you aren't willing to wait to hear what the other person has to say; when you're already contemplating what you'll say next, so the conversation won't miss a beat. That silence is wrought with tension, unease at wondering if you've said something you shouldn't, searching what was said, searching what wasn't, searching what shouldn't have been said.

But I'm only now starting to realize that sometimes, the only way to get a deeper connection is through being okay with the silence. And I don't just mean with other people; I mean with myself as well. Allowing the silence, and using it to explore my own thoughts. Thinking about how I feel about things, or mulling over what someone else has said as they search for words of their own.

I have no magical story of how allowing the silence has magically changed my life for the better. I can't even say necessarily that I'm recommending it; it's a very new sensation for me, and I'm still adjusting to it. In handling the silence recently, however, I've been catching myself more when I'm starting to veer too far in any direction; noticing when I've made a flub in far less time than it took before; and getting to understand other peoples' perspectives more thoroughly than before.

So these are just a few thoughts on silence, I guess. And as lackluster as this ending is, I feel like I'm okay with just accepting the words on the page.

Confusion

Laziness is delicious. There have been so many posts that I intended to write, thinking, "This is hilarious!" or "This is profound!". I am happy to report that, whatever it is I had to say, it was most likely neither of these things, since I now have the blankest of memories of what it was I even wanted to write.

But I digress. After all these weeks of laziness, I finally decided to come back to this blog....

And the first thing I see is a page saying that Jesus loves my soul, with a picture of Christmas lights.

What??

I was momentarily dazed, wondering if, perhaps, my blog page could have started using advertisements (which I never approved) and a randomly different layout (which was different than the layout I chose for this latest iteration of my blog). I also wondered why I would ever offer poems of peoples' lives (who writes these things???) and why I would offer tracts (kudos whoever can tell me what tracts are).

Finally, the answered dawned upon me: This was not my page. Perhaps it's a sign of mid-quarter burn-out, but this was actually a momentous realization. I don't know if this means that the URL for this blog has been bought out by some Christian mega-company, or if my blog isn't at the URL that I thought it was, but either way, there's some "mega-site of Bible studies" (their words, not mine) at hyperboleandaquarter.blogspot.com.

I'm always relieved when my moments of bewilderment like this are easily resolved, such as in cases like these. There are some questions that I know I will never have answered: What happened to all of my left socks? Why do things in my apartment suddenly fall when they were perfectly stable before? Why is it that items in my room always creepily shift right after I've turned off my lights, when I'm just beginning to fall asleep? There are no good answers for these questions, and they haunt my soul. This situation, however, has been resolved. It feels to have my questions answered sometimes.

Well, all of my questions except one:

Why would a Bible studies website want to be on a website called "Hyperbole and a Quarter"? I feel like it implies something negative about the faith, but perhaps I'm wrong. Don't misunderstand, I have nothing against Christianity; but am I the only one who feels like calling a Bible study "Hyperbole and a Quarter" implies that the Bible, or this particular study, is wrought with exaggeration?

I guess this is just another question I'll have to add to my bank of "Questions I'll never have the answer to".

A bit of a change of pace: A rambling post

I think I'm prone to falling into one of two mindsets: either diving headfirst into something, and falling prey to ideas so big that I could never execute them or follow through, or having no ideas at all and simply washing my hands of things. This blog is an embarrassingly perfect example of both of these mindsets at work.

When I was in Russia, living and breathing all things Russian, this blog had a life of its own: I was commenting on my experience of daily life as an American, chronicling the people I met, the famous places I saw, the culture, the food. And then, just as quickly, it was all over. I was back home in the United States, back to my comfort zone. The blog had served its purpose, I thought. There's nothing worth chronicling here.

It's funny how a little time and distance can change your perspective. Not only did I find new things about my home country that I had never experienced, but I also realized that I fundamentally missed blogging; I would reference it sometimes, and then quickly stop, knowing that all the experiences chronicled within these pages were long gone, never to return. As anyone who knows me in real life can attest, I'm an extremely talkative person; yet talking aimlessly to the internet, without a guiding reason to blog (Look at Russian things! See Russian pictures!) seemed really frightening to me. I always took a person just writing about their life as someone who was a bit self-obsessed, who thought that the world revolved around them and their experiences, who felt that their opinion was so radically different that the world needed to know their thoughts on everything. But I missed writing this way, and so I desperately searched for a new topic, so that my writing was at least a little bit justified.

For a little while, I toyed with the idea of changing the format of the blog: of turning it into a "travel to California" type blog, where I would take pictures of things and find hidden gems in California. As should be obvious, this idea quickly fell apart. The problem with exploring where you live is just that: you live there. In Russia, I had gone specifically to explore, to see as much as I could see within the time allotted to me. Back home, I can't just take days to wander museums, or walk into churches with the expectation of taking pictures of their architecture. I have a life to live, and things I'm required to do. So, the blog fell to the wayside, and I figured I could be content knowing that my writing had served its purpose.

Life has a funny way of making people change their preconceived notions, though. After going through a whole array of life-changing incidents-- notably, a car accident and the death of all of my remaining grandparents-- I started realizing that, maybe I don't need a point. Maybe writing is enough.

When I was younger, my grandmother had started taking classes on writing memoirs at a local community college. She was very passionate about it, writing story after story about her childhood in the South. My grandparents were the quintessential Southern story: my grandfather was not only the quarterback at his college, but was an all-American athlete, and my grandmother was a Southern belle. While many of my grandmother's stories involved subjects that I personally found tedious-- such as the first time she was allowed to curl her hair using hair curlers-- they inspired her, and resulted in her furiously writing short vignettes from her life. One day, while I was still at school in Oklahoma, we were talking on the phone, and she said, "You should start writing your memoirs now, while you still remember them!" I immediately scoffed. Write memoirs when I was still just getting started on my life? I didn't have anything worth remembering!

I had always been the kind of girl who despised diaries. Most diaries that I attempted to keep were quickly discarded, mostly due to the fact that they were filled with phrases such as:

Dear Diary,

I am writing in you right now because I know that I'm supposed to write in you every day. I don't really have anything to say, but I had to put something down in your pages, so there. 

Truly, my inspiration flowed deep.

But all that changes when people who you thought would be in your life until you were an adult-- long after you were married, and had a family, and had become successful-- are gone before you've even gotten into grad school. As much as I scoffed at my grandmother's assertion that I should write while I still remember, I realize now that it's through my words that I can best help remember her... and maybe help my kids someday remember her better, too. It's the little things in life, the things that are most easily forgotten, that are the most worth remembering.

And so, all of this rambling is to say, that I am happy to announce that I'll be starting this blog again. I don't know who, other than me, will read this; and for the first time ever, I am surprisingly okay with that. I have no idea what direction this blog will take-- I have some vague inclinations about book reviews, website recommendations, and other equally random things-- but I have no hard plans as to what I'm planning on doing, and I think that's fine. In the meantime, I'm planning on remembering as much as I can. And for me, that's a welcome change of pace.

A brief reflection on the nature of travel

In the hustle and bustle of daily life, I've entirely forgotten this blog. It's a real shame; when I had it going, it was something to behold. Two jobs and life will do that to you, I guess.

It's been interesting, though, seeing how travel shapes the way you view things when you come back. I've been rather surprised at the shift in my mentality-- from being entirely apathetic to museums to wanting to see absolutely everything; from avoiding restaurants like the plague to delighting whenever I find a new cafe, or rushing to try out new restaurants.

The thing I can say most substantially about my time abroad is that it really did shift the way I look at things. It gave meaning to things that were formerly meaningless; it replaced apathy with appreciation. Things that were commonplace before have now become triggers for memories, prompting me to stop in the middle of walking and snap photos of commonplace items, such as graffiti, signs, landscapes. But the shift in perspective is priceless, I think, just because suddenly life is an adventure.

You don't need to travel abroad to have that kind of mindset, I'm sure; there are people who naturally appreciate where they are, who go out of their way to learn every aspect of their hometown inside out, just to be able to say that they know all the interesting tidbits of information. But a good portion of the people I meet are just like I was before I left for Russia: apathetic, only interested in the things that directly affect their daily lives, maybe running out to do something just because it's famous enough that it would be embarrassing if they never went.

Even now, I'm wishing that I could go back and see more things in St. Petersburg. There were museums that I missed, famous paintings that I never saw; concert halls I never attended, foods I never tried. But at the same time, I appreciate my time back in Los Angeles, because now I'm looking at my city through the perspective of a traveler. Life, I think, is so much better when you're a constant tourist.

And suddenly, I find something I can sink my teeth into: Russo-Kazakh Relations after the Fall of the Soviet Union

I always love reading up on Russia in the news. I haven't been doing it as often as I would like; but every time I do, there is usually SOMETHING that catches my attention and prompts a bout of pondering the historical and political context of an action.

Last time this happened to me, I read a blurb about Russia pressuring Ukraine to unpeg their currency from the dollar; that spawned a five page paper sourced with nothing but news articles. And today is no different: today, I'm going to take a little walk through pondering Russia's relations with Kazakhstan after the fall of the Soviet Union.

Please forgive me if I'm a little overenthusiastic; this is, after all, one of my favorite topics, as I always amazed  at how much one event-- or, to be more accurate, chain of events-- could so drastically change the world. It's one of those interesting little moments where history and politics are interconnected, and therefore, vastly more interesting to Russia nerds such as myself.

Today's Story: 

"Russia facing no access to space for first time since Cold War"

This is a pretty big headline-- Russia with no access to space? Russia's been considered the world leader in space exploration (I read it on NPR, so it obviously has to be true), yet recently they've been running into some problems. Most of them are manageable, if not highly unfortunate-- for example, in that NPR article I mentioned, it mentions that Russia suffered "at least six mission failures, including the loss of a $163 million Mars probe". (In this economy, and with these oil prices, that is a whole lot of cash.) This, however, is nothing compared to the problem facing Russia at the moment: Loss of access to the Baikonur Cosmodrome, also known as "the main connection between earth and the International Space Station". If one were to, let's say, be interested in space exploration, it might be important to have access to the International Space Station.

So, how exactly did this happen? It may boggle the mind, but Russia's main point of access to space is not, in fact, located in Russia, but in Kazakhstan. And while the space station was "inherited" by Russia after the fall of the Soviet Union, because the property lies in Kazakhstan, Russia in fact only rents the space station. (Personally, that doesn't seem like much of an inheritance to me at all.) One rent dispute later, it's suddenly appearing that Kazakhstan might boot Russia out of the base entirely-- and what then?

I have absolutely no idea. Unfortunately, I'm not a space program enthusiast-- I mean, I think space programs are a great thing to have, and are really cool-- but I have no solid recommendations on what to do when one country cuts you off from your only access point to space, other than, well, building your own base in your own country so you don't have to argue about rent.

This story IS interesting, however, in the fact that it is yet another time when Russia and Kazakhstan have butted heads over an issue of access to a resource-- in this case, access to space-- based on the geopolitical settling of the fall of the Soviet Union. Put simply: Russia and Kazakhstan have been pushing each other back and forth to decide who's the big kid on the block since the adults (i.e. the general overarching government of the Soviet Union) have gone away.

Ones to keep your eye on: The foresty green one in the middle (Kazakhstan, in this case also known as "not India); the little brown dot above the orange country on the far left (also known as Belarus-- they'll be important later), and the overwhelmingly obvious yellow mass that takes over almost a third of the map (you guessed it-- good old Russia).

Now, a glance at the map shows that light foresty green Kazakhstan is nowhere near as massive as flamboyantly bright Russia; however, Kazakhstan IS the largest of the "Stans" (Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan) and thus seeks to counter Russia's geopolitical sway in the region. Additionally, Russia and Kazakhstan share the economic model of being petrostates, depending on oil and gas to keep their economies and national governments running. This is of major concern, as they are also competitors for access to the oil fields under the Caspian Sea. 

Economically, these two countries are competitors; however, they are also economic partners. For example, in May 2007, Russia, Kazakhstan, and Turkmenistan signed a tripartite agreement on importing and transporting oil and gas, and constructing a pipeline through the Caspian Sea. True, this deal didn't end up panning out for Russia as well as they had hoped (struggling to keep up the deal without helping develop the infrastructure of Kazakhstan or Turkmenistan; Kazakhstan wanting ever more concessions), but Kazakhstan also participates in a Customs Union with Russia and Belarus. (Told you that little brown speck would be important.) 

However, it can't be overlooked that Kazakhstan joined this Customs Union after weakening and, in essence, defying the Russian government on the subject of Belarus. In the dead of winter in 2010, Russia was threatening to cut off Belarus's energy supply due to arguments over energy prices and debt (par for the course for Russia, to be perfectly honest). Everything was going predictably enough when suddenly Kazakhstan stepped in and offered to sell energy to Belarus in Russia's stead. This would be a huge blow to Russia-- two of Russia's most loyal allies making a deal behind its back?

Suffice it to say, it's rather interesting to note that Kazakhstan stepped into the fray January 19, 2010, just 18 days after the three countries entered into a Customs Union.

So this space shuttle tiff is only another example of Russia and Kazakhstan quarreling over turf. It's not even unique in that Russia is coveting an asset in another country-- look at Russia and the fight for the Black Sea Fleet in Ukraine. Just another example of how in the ex-Soviet Union, events don't tend to stand on their own.

In other news...

Sorry for the lull; I've been consumed by preparations for staying home, something that is far more stressful and time-consuming than one would expect. I have tons of recipes to put up, but seeing as 1) I have not perfected them, and 2) I don't have the step-by-step pictures I would like, I can't really do that yet.

Sounds like a whole lot of whining, but it's simply the truth.

In other news, I've decided I want to take what I've been doing with this blog, and start doing it in the US-- museum reviews of wherever it is I'm living, restaurant reviews, etc. I'm putting together my new list of locations to visit and the new blog by the end of this week, just because I'm not able to visit these places quite yet. Exciting times, I hope?

be terrified O_o

This is rather interesting. Apparently, I can make posts from my phone (bypassing the whole "shocking computer" thing), and now that I've figured out how to use the shift button on my phone, I can even have proper grammar. (Le gasp!) In this way, the last obstacle in the way of my triumphant return to blogging has vanished with a dazzling display of technlogical awesomeness. (Never have I been so proud of being technologically literate in my life.)

Earlier today, I was lamenting to my stepfather about the fact that I can't relate any of the language related jokes on this blog, simply because they aren't at all funny if you have to explain every bit of them. For example, there was a brilliant bit that I wanted to put in the post "Death of a Salesman" that was about police corruption; it was a play on the pronunciation of Russian, plus the fact that different things can sound the same. However, were I to relate the punchline ("And he says, 'Nado ZHE dat!' Isn't that great????"), all I would receive would probably be blank stares and awkward coughing. 

But no matter! There is still plenty more to be written on the subject of Russia, and still much more content to be revealed (once my life finally finishes chewing the rest of the flavor out of me and spits me out like a piece of gum); and with my handy dandy technology, I can now post from anywhere, anytime. (I suddenly feel like a cheesy phone commercial.)

Now that I've discovered this apparently marvelous breakthrough, I shall recognize that it is, indeed, 2 o'clock in the morning; the room which I have been cleaning still looks like an utter mess; and if I am planning on sleeping tonight, I must depart from typing furiously and return to the land of cleaning. Oh, the horror! But now that I can TRULY return triumphant, I shall return triumphant! Or as close of an approximation as I can muster.