For the Love of Russia

It’s no secret that I am absolutely fascinated by Russia and all that the country entails.  Today was no exception when our church had a guest preacher visiting from his mission in St. Petersburg.  Hearing the Benediction in Russian was a treat.  One of my regrets from college so far is taking French for my foreign language requirement over Russian.  Sure, three years ago I had no intention of studying Russian, this is a recent development.  But honestly, I feel as though I could make more use of Russian, crazy as it sounds.  It would give me just the push I need to actually go to Russia and not be completely freaked out about the idea.  (If I could go anywhere in the world it would be Russia.  I can’t decide if I want to go to Moscow or St. Petersburg however.)  There are several reasons I love Russia.

1.  Alexei Yagudin.  He won the gold in men’s figure skating at the 2002 Olympics.  And brought my attention back to figure skating.

2.  History.  I took a modern Russian history class last fall.  And by modern, it was from Peter the Great until the present.  (Which was the 17th century for those counting.)  The history is incredibly diverse and ever-changing.  That is what makes the country so interesting.  You literally do not know where they are heading.  Who knows what will happen in the next ten years?

3.  Anton Chekhov.  I love him.  His writing is beautiful, and the stories and the messages conveyed are incredible.  He’s my favorite author, hands down.

4.  Architecture.  This is one of the main reasons I want to visit the country.  The buildings are gorgeous.

5.  Accents and Language.  But this is true of any foreign country if we are being completely honest.  (Scottish accents being my favorite.  Sorry Russia.)

I am sure there are many, many more, but that would take far too long.

I love you Russia.

p.s.  I haven’t discussed the small matter of Brett L. Favre’s status yet, and I am glad I haven’t because my emotions are conflicting.  I love you B. Favre!  How could I ever have doubted you?  I think I do want you back…

On Life and its Challenges

I will turn twenty two years old in just over four months.  When I was younger, I thought my current age would be the perfect time for marriage.  Now that I am 21, I laugh at my foolish thoughts of youth.  Personally, I feel I am not mature enough for such a commitment.  I need to sort out my own feelings toward the subject of love and all that entails before I even consider an actual relationship.  Sure, I have crushes and they change and fluxuate almost daily, but that doesn’t mean I am serious about any of them.  On average I have around 18 at a time.  Most of them baseball players from the Twins or the Brewers.  Honestly, I am fine knowing that I am single and not looking.  As we get older, I am finding more and more of my former classmates and current friends that are either married and/or pregnant.  I am very happy for all of them, don’t get me wrong, but I also cannot picture myself in their shoes.  I have dreamt of my future wedding throughout the years and one day it may happen.

I am having a hard enough time knowing that my final year of college is upon me.  I don’t know where I will be a year from now, which is a little unsettling.  But at the same time I find it refreshing in a way.  I suppose I can go anywhere and do anything at that point.  But will I?  Part of me likes the way things are right now, living at home, working for my Dad.  I know that it unrealistic and I am sure that by summer’s end I will be ready to go back to school.  For the last time.  I don’t see myself going to grad school in the near future if at all, so really this is it for me.  I’ve been going to school since I was four with preschool, so a change like this is going to take some getting used to.

I say I want to be a writer, but it has been difficult for me to actually get anything of substance written.  I always have some excuse or another and I am afraid to admit that I have my doubts.  On everything.  I am an English major because I love reading and writing and my hope is to someday be a full time fiction writer, preferably with novels.  But will that ever happen?  More often than not I just think about what I will write and sometimes take down notes.  I have several novel ideas floating around in my head.  One day I will take the time and get it all out.

I am an observer.  Many see my silence as threatening, which I find humorous.  I am not talkative for lack of anything to say, but in order to better SEE the world around me.  My friends are brilliant and I often mark down their quote worthy gems in a notepad I keep in my purse so I can recall them at later times.  Conversations had with people could turn into stories.  Actually, my better writing comes from the old cliche, “write what you know.”  For instance, remember last year on the fourth of July when my family took a joy ride in the U.P.?  And in the middle of the day I somehow turned our small issue of getting a tad bit lost into a serial killer-esque nightmare?  Well, I wrote an entire story for my intermediate fiction writing class this past semester.  My TA who ran the course didn’t get it.  She’s an intimidating lady.  And also from California and will never understand what Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is truly like.  What a shame.

I suppose I should have some sort of direction as to where my life is heading.  I know that I will graduate in less than a year, find a job, keep reading, stay writing, maybe get married, have a couple kids, write a novel and publish it?  Is that what I want?  Is that what will happen?  Will I stay in Minnesota?  Wisconsin?  The Midwest even?  Or will I get over my fear of New York?  Will I give the West Coast a try?  Will I get over my fear of love?  Will I understand love?  Will I figure out why love bothers me so much?  I guess I haven’t met the right guy yet.  Does that even exist?

Ivan.

I have a small list floating around my brain entitled, “My Kids Will Never Be Named…” and it just got one name longer.  Before there were only two, Zach and Cody.  When I was younger (I don’t recall my exact age) I was babysitting for a family who would go to our church every now and then.  They had 4 year old twin boys, Zach and Cody and a younger brother whose name has since escaped my mind.  It was the absolute WORST job of my life.  It was fine until they had to go to bed.  Then the evil twins emerged.  The ones who used words I could never utter in front of my mother to call me names, the one who decided it was appropriate to pee on the floor of the living room.  The ones who forced me to call the parents to have them come home early for the first and (still) only time in my life.  In light of the bad memories there, my kids will not be reminders of the excursion.  The third is Ivan.  But for an entirely different reason.

One of my tasks at work this summer is to enter invoices into the system on the computer.  I’ve been taught to do a number of the different bills including freight, inventory, credit cards, and expense reports.  Ivan Doverspike is the company sending the invoices that took me all day yesterday to key in.  There had to be a stack of papers over an inch high.  They go in one at a time and it drove me insane.  It is only a temporary thing that our company needed to use this vendor for so much inventory, so hopefully at the end of July, I will not have another inch or two stack of papers to try to sort through.  But in light of this frustration, Ivan will not be one of my future kids’ names.