Oh goodness. Learned a lesson about promising a follow up post the next day, I did. Young padawan learner learns on.
I promise I will finish up my mob story in the next few days, but true confession: I haven’t felt lighthearted enough for the past few days to finish out what is a very funny story. My mood has been simmering at a low level funk; two days of abject “get me home now” homesickness followed by a general sense of chaos and powerlessness being so far away while a complete tempest of horrible-terrible-no-good-very-bad is breaking loose over my family. My sister’s husband, whom I love dearly, is in the hospital with recently diagnosed ulcerative colitis that is, thus far, being resistant to all forms of treatment. My father moved out of my sister’s house- into which she had moved her family for the specific purpose of having him come live with them while he was severely under the weather- leaving her and her now temporarily disabled husband on the line for a huge and rather pricey house. My fiancé, who is hands down the hardest working person I have ever met, ever, has been unable to find a rewarding job since passing the Bar exam, and I wish I could be home to cheer him on while he job hunts. Add on top of this that I miss my niece and wish I could be spending time with her while her mom and dad are going through so much craziness. The total result was a rather grey mood, giving the Moscow sky a run for its money.
This is not to say that there have not been high points over the past week and a half. I have been to the Bolshoi theater- not once but twice- in the past seven days, seeing Swan Lake in the same theater where it premiered in the 1700s and attending Tosca, my very first opera. Both very high points indeed.
The other major highlight is that I moved up to the sixth floor, home primarily to Russian students, leaving behind the international student hub in order to immerse myself in Russian language and culture, as best I can given my limited linguistic abilities. Today marks exactly 1 month since my arrival, and I realized about a week ago that if I really want to master this language- which I do, very very much- I need to be surrounded by it as much as possible. In Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris talks about this transcendental moment he had while learning French when, for the first time, he understood exactly everything his teacher was saying to him. I am thinking, hoping, praying, that if I just emerse myself as much as humanly possible, I too will have this moment. Hopefully sooner rather than later, as I wish not to offend my new neighbors and inadvertently colonize the Russian floor should they feel sorry for me and feel the need to speak English now that an American has invaded.
I have been nonstop watching Russian cartoons, listening to Russian music, talking along with tapes, and attempting to get the file of Twilight in Russian to open on my computer so I can have Edward teach me how to gavaro pa-Russky, vampire style. Two of the Russian women whose third roommate is currently studying at George Mason were generous, so, so generous, and invited me to move into their dorm room. Tonight is night one in my new digs, and my funk has melted completely (although, admittedly, this could have just as much to do with PMS subsiding as it does with geographic change of pace. End overshare.)
Eager for the next phase of Peripatetic Russkie Adventure 2012.
I promise I will finish up my mob story in the next few days, but true confession: I haven’t felt lighthearted enough for the past few days to finish out what is a very funny story. My mood has been simmering at a low level funk; two days of abject “get me home now” homesickness followed by a general sense of chaos and powerlessness being so far away while a complete tempest of horrible-terrible-no-good-very-bad is breaking loose over my family. My sister’s husband, whom I love dearly, is in the hospital with recently diagnosed ulcerative colitis that is, thus far, being resistant to all forms of treatment. My father moved out of my sister’s house- into which she had moved her family for the specific purpose of having him come live with them while he was severely under the weather- leaving her and her now temporarily disabled husband on the line for a huge and rather pricey house. My fiancé, who is hands down the hardest working person I have ever met, ever, has been unable to find a rewarding job since passing the Bar exam, and I wish I could be home to cheer him on while he job hunts. Add on top of this that I miss my niece and wish I could be spending time with her while her mom and dad are going through so much craziness. The total result was a rather grey mood, giving the Moscow sky a run for its money.
This is not to say that there have not been high points over the past week and a half. I have been to the Bolshoi theater- not once but twice- in the past seven days, seeing Swan Lake in the same theater where it premiered in the 1700s and attending Tosca, my very first opera. Both very high points indeed.
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| First opera & first visit the the Bolshoi- not a bad evening! |
The other major highlight is that I moved up to the sixth floor, home primarily to Russian students, leaving behind the international student hub in order to immerse myself in Russian language and culture, as best I can given my limited linguistic abilities. Today marks exactly 1 month since my arrival, and I realized about a week ago that if I really want to master this language- which I do, very very much- I need to be surrounded by it as much as possible. In Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris talks about this transcendental moment he had while learning French when, for the first time, he understood exactly everything his teacher was saying to him. I am thinking, hoping, praying, that if I just emerse myself as much as humanly possible, I too will have this moment. Hopefully sooner rather than later, as I wish not to offend my new neighbors and inadvertently colonize the Russian floor should they feel sorry for me and feel the need to speak English now that an American has invaded.
I have been nonstop watching Russian cartoons, listening to Russian music, talking along with tapes, and attempting to get the file of Twilight in Russian to open on my computer so I can have Edward teach me how to gavaro pa-Russky, vampire style. Two of the Russian women whose third roommate is currently studying at George Mason were generous, so, so generous, and invited me to move into their dorm room. Tonight is night one in my new digs, and my funk has melted completely (although, admittedly, this could have just as much to do with PMS subsiding as it does with geographic change of pace. End overshare.)
Eager for the next phase of Peripatetic Russkie Adventure 2012.
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