wall art @ Mother-In-Law's

History. Unexpectedness. Tradition. Laughter. Shocking. Uniquely Beautiful. Crazy. Colorful. Confusing. Preserved.

...i'm currently sceaming for the next adventure. who wants to join?

Timely Realization.

-"Things take on meaning when the story ends."
-"That's because history starts to come in..."

from "Eloge de l'amour" (2001, Jean-Luc Godard)

Christmas in Old Town.

Last Saturday was the traditional lighting of the Old Town Square Christmas Tree. This year's tree is a 22-meter, 100 year old spruce. A brief presentation by Pavel Bem, Prague's mayor, officially opened the Prague Christmas Markets. Apparently they are some of the best in Europe? Old Town Square was packed. However, I think this is the first time ever where there were less people gathered around the Astronomical Clock then gathered in the actually square itself. I felt like I was seeing the eighth wonder of the world.

Sorry I started filming the first video a little too early. The tree does light up halfway through, I promise.

My oh My. Apple Pie.

Prague Thanksgiving- Success.

One of my favorite home videos is our first Thanksgiving in Minnesota.

We had just recently moved into our new house and it was the first time my parents had ever been away from their families for the holiday. This being the case, this was the first Thanksgiving meal my mother had ever cooked on her own. My dad pans the camera out the window to reveal new fallen snow (or maybe old fallen- it was always snowing there). The house is quiet except for the noises of my mom in the kitchen. My dad then zooms in on the time on the microwave clock- very late at night. He continues to scan the house- first my mom at the stove, laughing, and then onto 2 year old me, passed out on the couch. He makes note that Meghan is up in her crib. The 15-minute video is basically my parents laughing at the fact that they have yet to eat their Thanksgiving meal and that I tried hard to stay awake for it but couldn't. My dad, being supportive, encourages my mom's cooking skills in between the laughter. She is 31 at the time.

At 20, eleven years younger than my mom at the time of her first Thanksgiving away from home, I found myself in a just as humorous and enjoyable experience. My little cooking skills were forced full speed ahead, as I somehow managed to cook, from scratch, two apple pies, a turkey, mashed potatos, and stuffing (our guests/other roommates further contributed to the "eclectic" meal). We literally began cooking 24 hours ahead of time, because our small Prague kitchen and lack of dishware would not have made for a smooth Turkey Day preparation if done the day of. This 24-hour prep period quickly became one of my most memorable abroad experiences, as it provided a time of heavy laughter, the singing to various versions of "O Holy Night," added cooking experience, and oh-so-cheesy roommate bonding.

Though not quite nearing midnight, the 25 of us did sit down to eat later than expected- about 8pm. I don't think my smile left my face the entire evening, as I couldn't help but feel proud of what we had accomplished. I love hosting people in my home and watching everyone enjoying themselves made it that much greater. It is so easy to forget the true meaning behind holidays sometimes- buried beneath the commercialism that has built upon and around them. But in our small Prague apartment that night, thousands of miles away from the familiarity of home, and in the company of people who were not-long-ago complete strangers, I was once again reminded of why we give thanks. I was all the more appreciative for what is waiting for me when I return home in a few weeks, and all the more appreciative of what God has allowed me to experience while abroad.

Bird Search.

At 8:30 this morning, my nieghbor Cassie and I began our search for a turkey. For the past week, we have been planning a big Thanksgiving meal between three of the CEA apartments- hosted by us. By now we've gotten used to hard supermarket searches- shocking, I know, that I haven't managed to learn fluent Czech yet. However we knew that turkey was going to be our toughest quest- not so existent in Czech lands. The majority of turkeys that were rumored to be in the city were those bought by expat restaurants to host Thanksgiving meals.

Regardless, we wanted to try our luck. We first tried Tesco, the Super Wal-Mart of Europe, but all they had was duck and chicken. Refusing to settle for such mediocre holiday birds, we kept on. We were going to try the international specialty food store, but before we got there we stumbled upon a Butcher Shop. And what do you know? Hanging in the window, neck still attatched and all, was a giant raw turkey. Before going inside, an old Czech man came outside, smiled, and said something in Czech to us. The word "anglicky?" rang from our mouths, which followed by a laugh and a "get out of here" wave from the old man. He walked away.

We went inside, contemplating how we were going to order this bird in a small shop where clearly no one spoke English. We went up to the first register and pointed over to the dangling bird in the window. The lady smiled and motioned for us to go around the corner to the next counter. We went around, but because we were around the corner we could not motion to the turkey in a way that the woman could see. All of a sudden, the woman from the first counter came over and began translating for us. In the process, she tried to teach us some of the words she was using- unfortunately none of which I can remember now. She motioned for us to look at the scale and see if they had measured out the correct amount. The shop did not have a whole bird available- just cut sections, so Cassie and I decided on two large pieces. We later determined we ordered about 7lbs. The woman literally took the pieces off the scale, and without wrapping them up threw them into a plastic bag. We waited to laugh at this until we were outside on the street. The two woman smiled at us and said goodbye.

Cassie and I left elated. We had never encountered such nice service in Prague. The fact that the one woman left her own work to come and translate for us is an incredibly uncommon occurance, one which we have had yet to occur until today. And perfect timing- on the day we Americans give thanks. So to the employees of the anonymous butcher shop- thank you for your help and thank you for your bird.

Thanksgiving Blog Entries to be continued...

Revolution.

Happy Revolution Day!

Today marks the 19th anniversary of the Velvet Revolution in the Czech Republic. The Czech Republic, as well as other countries in Eastern Europe, recognize this day as their freedom from communism. Up until 1989, communism ruled in the Czech Republic since 1968.

Just a fun fact for today.

Beauty in the End.

Soon before I left for Prague, a friend bluntly told me, "Go live your life." A simple phrase that I've taken to heart with each day I am abroad. With each new experience and with each new lesson learned, this phrase comes to mind. So thanks friend, for your lasting words.

With five weeks left in the semester, I think it's only natural that home comes to mind more often. It's a place and an idea that is becoming fresher in my mind. It's a place that I am becoming more anxious to be back in. The other night, I came to the conclusion that I am content with my abroad experience- that I could hop on a plane home the next day and be okay. I didn't say this out of homesickness or unhappiness. Like I said, I think it's only natural that feelings like these would start to arise, as I begin to see a definite end to my time in Europe.

But when these thoughts surfaced, I was quick to tell myself that I didn't want such ideas to reflect in the time I do have left. There are so many new and exciting things in store and they deserve equal energy as did everything that has happened in the past two months.

I was encouraged by these words via email this morning, and they are words I would like to hold close to my heart, as I have with "Go live your life."

"Hey guess what? You woke up this morning and you're in Europe. You only have five weeks left though, so take advantage of today...You'll have plenty of time to enjoy Clemson and Maryland, but the chances of you returning to your current situation are slim. So enjoy it...And don't forget to spend time with the one who allows you to experience this, and who has blessed you so much. You're there for a reason."

I should not, and will not, ever be "content" with my abroad experience until I board that plane back home. That day, is not today, so I keep going and keep enjoying.

Lost...and not found.

I'd like to think I've always been an organized, responsible human being. However, the past two months in Prague are causing me to doubt this personal analysis.

The following is a list of the things I have managed to lose while overseas:

1. Vodaphone- on a Prague Art&Architecture walk; cost of a new phone? 1100 czk.
2. My beautiful amber ring from Chesky Krumlov (aka- the ring my granddaughter was one day going to wear)- Berlin hostel;
3. My mittens- at Claire's cousin Oliver's house in Ireland. I guess I can always get these back?
4. Prague Moleskin- didn't actually lose this, but for a good 10 minutes I thought I did.
5. Favorite Clemson long-sleeve tshirt- Galway hostel; great, now I have to go donate more blood to get another one! just kidding.
6. Backing to my diamond earring- walking out of a restaurant.
7. Bobby pins- I can to Prague with a lot; now I have four?
8. Blow dryer- I didn't lose this, but I fried it the other day. Good move Kelly.
9. Eyeliner pencil- I know right? The worst one of all!

I'm sure I could add more, but now I've annoyed myself thinking about these mishaps.

In Memory.

I will always remember the falling leaves. They flew and fell in groups, large groups, proving difficult to single out one from its comrades. Still, it was obvious that these leaves, blown together, had originated from all over the area- from different trees, different colors. They were blown so effortlessly off the trees by the persisting wind, so swift and sudden- as if they didn't even know they had been plucked and carried away...

People surrounded me, but a silence permeated the air. No original inhabitants in existence. It smelled of sweet autumn, but not of history. The skies were some of the bluest I've witnessed since I've been in Europe- an abrupt contradiction to my expectations. And the cobbled ground was hard on my feet, though nothing as I imagine it was in its early years.

Arbeit Macht Frei. Work Makes You Free. Or so they were told. Or so they believed- some all the way up until their final walk. I myself walked under these words, but no tears came. Just a heaviness.

We walk the halls of barracks. We walk the basement cells. I stand in the center of the Execution Courtyard. I scan the grounds from an old observation tower. I see the vastness of my confined surroundings. I walk through a still standing crematorium; I stand in the same spot that so many perished before me. But I walk out alive. I step back out into the sun, the blue sky blanketing me once again, and I am free.

Tears come only now as I write these words. They did not exist on the day I visited Auschwitz-Birkenau. All that existed that day was that heaviness. An indescribable realization that I could not possibly grasp the emotion and feelings of those who passed beneath those deceiving words over 60 years before me. I will never know the weight of their pain- it is unfathomable to any human who did not experience first-hand- though I naively and innocently came believing I somehow could. An important wake up call for all of us that day.

The sights. The sounds. The smells. The people- all has changed. The closest thing to any full understanding of what took place on those grounds seems to exist only in the falling leaves. At least in my mind, they told the story best that day.

photo credit: William Alquin Granberry

-Charging- Power up.

I don't think I prepared myself well enough for the day-to-day change in homesickness level. Some days, I'm so ecstatic to be here, amped on life, yadda yadda yadda. And other days, I want nothing more than to be back in Clemson, back in familiarity. The shift in homesickness level can be sudden, as it has been over the past couple of days. But, just as quick as it came, today is was lifted once again.

I had every intention of visiting the *free* Czech Museum of Fine Art this afternoon. But surprise surprise, I found myself lost. And where is that oh so special place that one somehow always manages to end up at when they are lost? That's right. Old Town Square. It never fails. Normally I am frustrated and annoyed by this pattern, but today the square provided me with the revival I needed. My awakening? The Salvador Dali exhibition. It's one that I've wanted to stumble into since I arrived here (though, mind you, I knew little about Dali other than his surrealist melting clocks), and today I finally decided to drop the 70 czk to go in. It was well-worth the koruna (moulah), because I found myself challenged by his work. In order to obtain any message, you have to expand your mind and think. As with all art, each person that looks at a work can grasp a completely different meaning. It's as if Dali was allowing me into the creative process. As homesickness set in the past couple of days, so has discouragement about why I chose to come to an unfamiliar place, and not only that, but on my own. But like I said, Dali's work brought me relief today. It is reminding me that I am looking at this experience too concretely. I'm fixated with the things that are making my days here so standard. I need to look deeper. There is so much more to this city than I'm seeing on the surface (school, Bohemia Bagel, unhappy tram riders, Tesco...). I need to search for that alternative essence- I need to feel Prague in ways I haven't already done. I need to discover the obtuse and trust it. I have the opportunity of a lifetime to make Prague my own. So it's time I set the ordinary aside, and start repainting this picture.

Today was arguably the most beautiful day I've experienced in Prague yet. While we had many a nice day when I first arrived, those days brought along heat. After leaving the exhibit, feeling newly awakened, I walked down to overlook the Vltava River. I sat down and sketched the scene a bit (mind you, I'm not artist, but I tried). I then proceeded to walk the couple of miles home, paying close attention to details I seem to pass over on a day-to-day basis. I watched people more closely, I wandered up alleyways, I read posters (well, sort of. They were in Czech). I payed attention to decorative details on buildings and restaurants. I stumbled into a bookstore...

And finally, my day has come to an end, at almost 6 in the morning, having just come home from watching the Presidential Debate. A new favorite hangout, The Globe, broadcasted the debate from a movie screen beginning at 3 this morning. It was a unique atmosphere, probably the most non-CEA Americans I've been around since my arrival. The majority of the room were clearly Obama supporters, though a few drunk Republicans managed to voice their stance. Coffee was served, hence why I'm wide awake and blogging at this atrocious hour, as was popcorn (?). Allie and I took the metro home at 5, where it was reiterated that Pragians (my word) are crazy and don't ever sleep. At 5, the train was comfortably filled with people, some of which had shopping bags. Shopping bags!? Where do you shop in the early a.m.!? Oh well, you gotta love it.

Endnote: to anyone reading this that has sent me a message, whether via email, skype, or facebook, in the past few days, thank you so much. It meant a lot to hear from each of you and helped me feel better. You're loved so much, so much!

Drugs.

Do you think it's strange how the majority of us take medicine without taking the time to read their descriptions? We pop an advil, take a zpack...comfortable that what we are taking is going to cure us. We trust that it will heal and not bring about more problems.

I went to the UniCare Medical Center today in Prague to be told that I have bronchitis. I was given five different types of medicine, all for different aspects of the illness. When I opened up the description pages, what do you know, they were all written in Czech. I know I don't have anything to be worried about...CEA has been using this medical facility for years. Still, there is an uneasiness about the unfamiliarity that I have with these brands, and what they contain, though I'm certain I could find their comparison in the United States.

For the first time, I'm actually wanting to take the time out to read the descriptions on these things. Too bad, for the first time, I don't have the opportunity to do so.

I know these are all weird thoughts to post via-blog, but sitting looking at all my meds spread out on the table, I couldn't help myself.

Expectancy Violations.

Negative Expectancy Violation- Prague Tram.

Me. Dressed in autumnal colors. Surrounded by Czech people- all in black. The #20 pulls up at Malostranské náměstí. Standard. I begin to get on, only to be beaten by the black sea. The warning buzzer wails. I cram myself on at the last second. My whole self is completely smashed up against the doors. All around me, Czech people speaking Czech. I don't understand. I see my reflection in building windows passed by. I can't help but laugh at myself. So stiff. So vibrantly awkward. I am becoming more constricted, as the tram brakes suddenly. I look above my head. My eyes meet the metal bar. I free an arm and cling to it for life. My one relief. Finally, Andel. A few "pardons" and I'm once again in open space. I run the four blocks and two hills home. Freedom.

Positive Expectancy Violation- Dresden, Germany.

I knew I would like Dresden, but I didn't realize how much so. Fairly small town. Not much too it. Still, it had an aire. Baroque architecture meets communist remains. Warm and receptive people. Smiling. Laughter. Bikes. Parents loving their children. Unhurried/unrushed. Patience. A good cup of coffee. Eager art, eager to unleash itself. Unafraid to share its past. Unafraid to look to the future. Content.

Slavia v. Sparta

Two nights ago CEA got us tickets to a Slavia v. Sparta hockey game. Wouldn't you know that hockey is one of the Czech Republic's most popular sports? They really spoiled us with front row seats. I've only been to a few hockey games, none of which were professional, in my life, so this was a fun experience.

The majority of us cheered for Sparta, though Slavia was the home team. We had heard from Marty, one of our CEA Directors, that Sparta was the better team. However, they unfortunately lost to Slavia 2-1.

This by far has been my favorite element to see the Czech people in. There was drunken commraderie gallore, family togetherness, friendship bonding time- it was great. It was as though everyone's problems were left at the door, and everyone in the areana was there to have a good time.

Two things I particularly noticed during my time at the game. The first being the lack of on-ice fighting. At home, I feel like it's a rare occurance not to see two players go at it at some point during the game. However, I saw not one glove come off, no helmets on the ground, and certainly no punches thrown. If ever an altercation, a brief yelling session insued, but then it was game on.

The other thing I noticed was the dedication of each team's fans to their team. No matter whether a team was messing up left and right or making clean passes down the ice, their respective fans were behind them through it all, cheering them on. And even though Sparta lost in the end, you could still hear Sparta cheers down in the metro tunnels as the train pulled away. Talk about true fans.

So, I'll conclude with brief footage of the atmosphere:

Easy on a Sunday Morn'.

So, I meant to write this entry at some point yesterday, but it didn't happen. So, pretend it's yesterday. This is an exerpt from my real journal, dated 14.9.08 (yesterday):

I've always been in love with fall Sundays, but Prague Sundays are topping them all. We had a rapid temperature drop over the past two days- literally from 75 to 50-something degrees. The air has been pleasantly brisk- slightly cheek stinging if you will. This morning I wrapped my neck in a scarf and met some friends at Bohemia Bagel. We sat for almost three hours, drinking bottomless coffee and listening to great oldies music as we kept conversation flowing. We later walked out into the cold, still air. Claire and I lost Kelly and Kiernan among the tourist flood on the Charles Bridge, but we continued to walk anyway, passing musicians, artists, and vendors. I fell in love, again, with the city's beauty. I love how the buildings here all vary in color, but not in a cutesy way like the ones in Charleston, SC. Each building here seems to bring something unique to the panorama- each has a different personality, a different story to tell.

We walked down to this island park to sit and read for awhile, but it got too cold. We decided to walk the two miles back home instead of taking the tram. It was a rare moment of total relaxation and contentment- I felt like I was the city and the city was truly mine. A man passed us on a penny-farthing bicycle. I gave him a thumbs-up and his face smushed up as he gave me a closed-mouth smile.

I have now returned to my apartment, where I have made myself some green tea and cozied up in one of our big armchairs. Everything peaceful about today I am counting as a blessing.

Later in the evening, after this entry was written, one of my roommates and I walked down to Tesco to get our groceries for the week. If I am to be honest, Tesco is the one place in Prague where I have sadly experienced truly unfriendly Czechs. Everytime we've gone in there, the cashiers have rolled their eyes at our lack of Czech, forcefully shoved our groceries aside (in the Czech Republic you bag your own groceries), and have gotten very angry when you don't have enough change to allow them to just give you bills back. It's frustrating.

Anyway, the great moment. Last night's cashier was actually pleasant! Now, when I say pleasant, that is not to say that she was actually nice, but that she gave us a small smile and even bagged some of my groceries for me. When I explained that I didn't have enough change for her to just give me bills back, she didn't seem offended at all. I said thank you and goodnight and we were on our way- completely taken aback. Allie and I were so excited that we literally talked about it all the way home.

Apparently one of the reasons that the Czech people don't typically smile while interacting with strangers is that they lack a certain self-confidence. They can't even imagine why a perfect stranger would want to smile at them. Interesting, that in the United States we sometimes are overly smiley and overly nice to strangers- sometime so much that it can come across as fake.

It's Astronomical.

I thought I had this city down pat. But you'd be surprised how one can still manage to get lost on the same streets on a regular basis. Over the past 48 hours, I feel like all I have done (along with my fellow comrades) is walked, trammed, and metroed around in circles (well horizontal lines for the metros) in attempt to reach a planned destination. I'm not going to lie, it's been a bit stressful, especially because I wouldn't say Prague is that hard of a city to navigate, but I understand it's part of the experience.

Friday morning, however, me and two of my roommates did reach our destination successfully- not that it was that hard considering it is right next to school. We went to look at the John Lennon Wall. Basically, it is a big graffiti wall, started as a memorial after Lennon's death in 1980, where the Prague youth spoke their minds in regard to political issues facing what was then Czechoslovakia. Obviously, the wall has changed several times since the eighties, as graffiti has covered graffiti, but here is an idea of what it looks like today:
Notice a sculpture of Lennon's head in the top left corner:One of the persisting jokes lately is the fact that no matter where you are attempting to go in Prague, somehow you always end back up at Old Town Square. I guess if the city had a center, this could very well be it, as it is the location of several of Prague's biggest attractions including the Astronomical Clock. Every hour, thousands of tourists seem to gather in front of this clock to watch as the figures around the clock move, each representing a different thing that was despised during the time of the clock's making: greed, vanity, death, and infidel Turks (yeah, this one doesn't seem to fit with the others). You can also watch the 12 apostles move about on the hour as well.

This to me is one of the craziest things that I walk by almost daily, mostly due to the fact that the oldest part of the clock was built in the early 1400s:
Yesterday, Allie and I wound up in New Town and stopped to look at a photo exhibit that was randomly displayed on the street. Nearby was this building, from which you could hear somebody playing piano from the top left window.
Now, there's no way of telling, but I got the impression the hidden player was an elderly widow woman, who now seeks comfort through her music. Just a guess, of course. Something about the choppiness of "her" playing made it so beautiful and intriguing. I could have sat and listened to "her" attempt to play Cannon all day.

Today was by far the coldest day we've had in Prague. It was a brisk 50 something-degree day, which I couldn't have been happier about. Finally, it is appropriate to wear all those sweaters I stocked up on coming here!

Peace and War.

I know October is still quite awhile away, but I've decided I will be spending my 12-day fall break traveling through Ireland, Scotland, and England. I found a flight through Ryan Air that will take me from Prague to Dublin for 239 czk- about 17 American bucks. How can I pass that up? Ryan Air can also take me to Edinburgh for about 40 bucks, and I can take a train to London, but getting back to Prague is going to be the challenge. It can be done, but as of now, not cheaply. Hmm, still more research is needed.

Yesterday I added another day to my already four-day weekends when I dropped Reporting I. The class was essentially what I had already taken at Clemson (Intro to Journalism), so instead they signed me up for an independent study. Each month, I will be writing a 500-600 word piece for The Prague Post, Prague's English language newspaper. I will meet with an advisor at school who will help in the editing process, but other than that I don't have class. I will be specifically covering non-profit organizations and events that they are hosting. Each month I will feature a different organization. I sort of feel lazy with now a five-day weekend, but what is a girl to do? The experience of writing for the paper will be great, and it will give me more travel time, so I can't complain.

A couple of nights ago our apartment decided to cook for some of the other CEA kids. I decided to make my dad's infamous pasta (sauteed spinach, zucchini, squash, tomato, garlic and then throw in feta cheese), however, the Tesco (wal-mart but way better and bigger) didn't help me out much. Vegetables are one of the most expensive items here because they are not a big part of a Czech's diet. Not only that, but it is not uncommon to go the store and find that they are sold out of vegetables. When trying to find things at the store, we were sad to discover that they were out of tomato, zucchini, and squash. So, we improvised and used peppers, onions, and a bag of other frozen vegetables instead. We also found some really cheap red wine for about 28 czk, which is under $2- kind of pathetic, I know. It was so cheap it later made our mouths turn blue.

The only other thing to really report on is what took place in my Media & Democracy class on Monday. We had a guest speaker come in and talk to us about freedom of the press, particularly in the United States, as well as its relationship with the current war situation. She is an American- a freelance journalist and author of some political books. To set the stage, we have a pretty international class: United States, Russia, Kazakhstan, South Africa, France, and the Czech Republic. What first bothered me was her vagrant disrespect for some of the non American students. When she asked one girl her name, the speaker attempted to say it correctly once before she said "Uh, whatever, close enough-" as if to say getting the girl's name right wasn't important. Further, though I tend to have more liberal views myself, this speaker made her hard-core liberal views come across as 100% fact without even suggesting there was another side. Then, she pretty much deliberately put the class against each other, asking each of us if we thought there was a war going on in the world, how much independence should the media be given, and then asked our opinions on issues like Prague being the radar base for Poland's missals and the Russian/Georgian conflict. The Russian was mad at the Czechs, France didn't really say anything, nobody liked us Americans- it was sort of an uncomfortable mess. I guess what bothered me the most was her aggressiveness. I feel like there is a much more subtle way, if you want to engage an internationally-diverse class in a world issues debate, than putting everyone on the defense. Further, this was the first time I've really been surrounded by such an international crowd as ours, and while it was frustrating on Monday, I think I will come out of this class with a greater reassurance of the need to be culturally tolerant of others.

Anyway, that's all from Prague for now!

Ahoj from Praha.

I feel bad that I haven't bothered to inform the masses about all that has occurred in my first week abroad. It's been a whirlwind to say the least, and I think I was waiting for a feeling of settlement. It's still hard to believe that I wake up in this place every morning-that I walk these cobblestone streets everyday, as I pass by buildings and landmarks, some of which have been around earlier than the 9th century.

I've talked to many who already know the early details of my time here, but for those who don't, I will summarize some facts of interest:
1. My apartment is located in Prague 5- the Smichov district to be exact. We are on the top floor of an old building, whose spiral staircase gives my legs quite a daily workout. The apartment has a "Snow White-esque" to it, but the best part is the view from our balcony of the east side of the city.
2. I have three other roommates. We are all from different parts of the country, which makes it an enjoyable learning experience for all of us.
3. My school, Anglo-American University, it located in the Mala Strana district. This is one of my favorite sections of the city. Google image it? Almost right next to school is a restaurant called Bohemia Bagel which we are all in love with. They serve American food all day long. Best is their big bagels because they are only 11 czk each (less than $1). This has become a common hangout spot for us CEAers.
4. Prague is most certainly a nightlife city. It NEVER sleeps. I think it may be in part because Europeans eat dinner later (typically 8, 9, maybe even 10 pm). At 3am people young and old are still out on the streets having fun. It's crazy. Needless to say, it's been hard to get a good amount of sleep.
This morning, a bunch of us ventured off on a train for Kutna Hora- located south of Prague. The train traveled through some beautiful, quiet countryside before we reached this small foothills town. Our mission- find the bone church. Or rather, the Klosnice Ossuary. This church, on the inside, is made almost entirely of human bones. Reason being? After the church was first built, a monk brought back soil from Jerusalem and sprinkled it over the churchyard. When this occurred, everyone wanted to be buried in the church's cemetery. Even after an expansion years later, there wasn't enough room for the bodies. So, a half-blind Christian monk began taking the dead's bones and artistically decorated the church with them. Observe:

After we walked through the church, we went upstairs to the other chapel where we were pleasantly surprised to find a violin quartet. After hearing them, I think my appreciation for classical music has strengthened.
The rest of the day was spent walking through this city. It was a good 30-minute walk from the church into town in the boiling heat, but it was worth it. The best way I can describe it is a "Po-dunk town" European-style- if that makes sense? I guess what I mean by European style is that the buildings, though run-down, were still in that pretty-historic architecture (Corey, can you think of a better way to describe this?) We found a little oasis in an alley, a restaurant called Vruthardce. To enter, you walked through a "Secret Garden-like" archway, into a garden/lawn area with exotic looking flowers. We sat at a long bench where we enjoyed a meal of string cheese, bread, and beer/RC cola (pending on who you were). It was all very quaint and relaxing. Today, I was in love with Europe. Riding home on our beat-up train, all of us in and out of sleep, watching as we passed other small towns and countryside, I realized I enjoy this side of Europe the most. I'm not sure why, but the unexpectededness of being outside a famous city, like Prague, makes it all seem more real. I'm truly thankful to be here this semester.

On the Ride.

It's been a good week since I've ventured out of the neighborhood on my two wheels. Tonight I covered all the usual pavement.

I paid particular attention to smells tonight. I breathed in honeysuckle as I passed through my neighborhood entrance, only to be greeted by the smell of summer grilling on Main Street. Later, as I would wrap back around on my way home, that grilling smell made way to the similar, but slightly varied, bonfire smell, as if to symbolize the fast-approaching presence of autumn in the valley. "Smell" has always been a weird sense to me- how it has the ability to capture a memory, or lure us further into something. Or further away.

As I passed by the old homes on the backstreets, I noticed the height of each home's fencing. Compared to the newer homes in town, the fences of these older homes were shorter, evoking what I felt was a truer sense of community. These days, it's as though we want to keep ourselves gaurded inside our homes. Porches have moved from the front of the house to the back, and fences have been raised higher, blocking out noise, people, etc. It shows how much more willing people were back in the 1700/1800s (yes, these homes go back that far) to welcome others into their homelives. I appreciate this so much and am saddened to think we've become so comfortable with the Tim Taylor/Wilson neighbor interaction. If I ever fence my yard, it will be short. And you can come sit on my front porch and shoot the breeze any day! But no creepers, please.

I also got enjoyment out of the people I saw tonight. There was an old man sitting on his front porch (old home) doing nothing but smiling. He wasn't looking at anything in particular- he just remained fixed in a closed-mouth grin. All the firefighters were sitting outside the firehouse, laughing and enjoying each other's company. I saw an old classmate skateboarding and rode down to the school campus and watched the varsity girl's soccer play in a scrimmage. As a team alumnae, that was thrilling for a few minutes. There were a lot of families out tonight too- most riding bikes actually. And, I saw a kid rollerblading, which immediately made me consider initiating a trade- my bike for his skates.

Anyway, it never ceases to be a refreshing evening in Middletown.

Totally.

six days. and still, only few moments have managed to allure to the next 3 1/2 months.

I regret that the summer months have been lowly, as far as blogging is concerned. But then again, is that not the point of these dog days? That this rare time be given to the mind to slow and regain some sense of dignity- some clarity?

In the past month, possibly inspired by my upcoming trip, I've become re-acquainted with an old learning passion. I've spiraled back in time to World War II, the Holocaust, and all that led up to the Cold War, in first attempts to try and understand these events at a more mature level.

In lieu of these studies, as well as the current Russian/Georgian conflict, I will seek to discover the tick- the tick that makes totalitarian rule so appealing in the eyes of certain individuals. Also, how this dangerous yearning has such evil capabilities, that in turn takes over whole countries, destroys lives, and leaves survivors scarred for generations to come.

The Czech Republic not only endured Nazi occupation, but immediately following, disappeared behind the Iron Curtain for over 40 years until the Velvet Revolution in 1989. And now, the sad opinion remains among many countrymen that times were better under such harsh rule- no unemployment, less crime, a more stable economy. Living here and interacting with these shaken people should hopefully shed light on what I'm trying to discover.

So again I ask, what is this driving force that seduces man, leaving him to desire totalitarian reign? How is it possible that whole nations are fooled by these masked bullies? Is man really that evil- that deep down each has the capabilities displayed by a select few in our world's history? How much is environmental influence and how much is biological? What are we to do with those people who are left bruised by such reign?

May these answers come.

This Day in Age.

One month. That's all I'm down to. One month and I leave for 3 1/2. 111 days to be exact (the visa application made me figure that one out). It's funny, because with such a short amount of time left this whole adventure I'm about to embark on should start to seem more real, but it doesn't. I don't think my mind has managed to wrap itself around it at all, actually. Perhaps when I'm at home. Right now, I'm in what feels like a whole other place. Well I am, but you know what I mean. I'm still trying to finish things up in Greenville. I'm trying to live in the moment as best I can- before I can go on and think about my next big adventure. Because in a sense, my summer in Greenville has been like an adventure (I know right, who would've thought?). Just goes to show you don't have to venture far. I guess I should feel pretty thankful right now that I have the opportunity to do both.

In tying the above to my premise for writing tonight, I've been reminded a great deal this summer about the importance of living in the present moment. I know, it sounds like a cheesy line sung by a cheesy pop band/singer. Perhaps Vitamin C or some one. But seriously, there is depth to this. I feel like in the past few months I've listened to a lot of people talk about their futures- goals, plans, etc. And I know that I myself, tend to do a lot of this. I like to plan, even if it's all in silliness. I've been reminded that there needs to be a balance. I've tried to be a bit of a realist in that, I understand that you can't just live for the future. I don't want to spend my days so buried in my hopes for what will happen, when there is so much to be enjoyed and so much that is prospering right now. And in living this way, living "in the now," I firmly believe that it is going to make whatever lies in the future that much richer. None of this is to say that it's wrong to look ahead, hope ahead. Just that, again, balance is key- as well as a loose grip on whatever plans our minds are stirring up. Because it is but a rare happening when we are not re-routed, if only slightly, on our continuing journies.

Down on the Farm.

Hagood Mill- On Site for G Magazine Fall Fashion Shoot

The glamourous life of a stylist's assistant- prop holder and wild pig sitter.
Actually, I wanted to the hold the pigs. They were kind of cute, Wilbur and Little Red.

Yesterday I made "friends" with another parking garage toll employee. I'm sad to say I can't quite remember her name. It was weird- Uma, Oola, Yuma? The name exchange, followed by a handshake, was then followed by unexpected dating advice. She-who-can't-be-named asked me if I was married. When I said no, she preceded to describe several men she regularly sees coming out of the parking garage- down to what they drive and where in the garage they park. She was on a roll, so I kindly nodded and smiled- with an occassional laugh thrown in. I must have been stopped at the booth for a good five minutes...bless her heart.

Recent Conquests.

Table Rock= 7.2 miles
Scooby (aka- I Poop Everywhere in the House) & "Asthmatic" Arthur (aka- I move a toe and I have the heaviest breathing known to man) Knutson= two weeks of house sitting hell with Anna. Minus a comfy bed and Jon&Kate Plus 8 Marathons.

Anna finished her Lego Eiffel Tower this morning!

?

Why do press releases for events always include the line "lots of food, fun and activities."

The activities are never fun. Just cheesy.

And why do Americans always need "food" to coax them to coming to events? Why won't we go to events if there's not food?

Fatties.

Suits.

I work for the work days when productivity and happiness go hand in hand. The days when I'm reminded that I love what I am doing and that that is way better than receiving substanial pay. Money has time to sort itself out.

Every once in awhile I go downstairs at lunchtime to get a sweet tea and some baked lays. The bald-headed, bearded man typically takes my order. Last week, I was short 30 cents. He let me pay with what I had. Today, when I went downstairs, I fell into a sea of suits. Blue suits. Black Suits. Jacketless Suits. Red ties. Green Ties. Striped Ties. All men, all in suits. From his boat, the bald-headed bearded man threw his life-preserver into the sea and rescued me. He didn't just rescue me - because that in itself would not be a major accomplishment, considering I was a skirt-wearing girl- but actually knew who he was rescuing. He's finally caught on to my routine existence in his eatery. It kind of made me happy.

I was also reminded that I still don't understand what this "real world" is that we have been told to work towards since our youth. This so called "real world" that is supposed to bring us all the happiness and contentment we could want. This "real world" that the suits seem a part of. Because all I saw in this "real world" were mopey, tired faces on what seemed like a lot of overweight bodies. And if this "real world" is supposed to give us happiness and contentment, well...I just didn't see any. Except for brief moments of food-in-mouth. I just don't think I want to be a part of this.

As I left the parking garage this afternoon, I asked the toll man how he was. His response: little lady, each day gets better and better. As I drove off I couldn't help but think, "you're right old sir. you're absolutely right."

By the winding stream we shall lie and dream
We'll make dreams come true if we want them to
Yes all will come play the pipes and drum
Sing a happy song and we'll sing along
Everyone Everyone Everyone Everyone...

...............

Hey I'm Kristin.. Kelly's super cool roomate for the summer. I'm writing Kelly's blog for her tonight. Today we went to Goodwill and found some sweet gear. That is all.

Randos.

What is our fascination with black and white photos? Don't get me wrong, I enjoy taking them; however, I really would be interested if anyone knew why a black and white picture often has the ability to evoke more emotion or depth? Or why a photo can all of sudden be deemed "artsy" if switched to grayscale?

Maybe it has to do with distractions? All of the distractions that come with a color photograph- too much going on in the picture at one time. The black and white kind of simplifies the image, enabling the viewer to get to the heart of it quicker. Maybe...

The last couple of days, The Beatles' Let it Be album has been a frequent car companion of mine. I'm not sure why it hadn't hit me until the other day that this album has so much of a country influence. You look at how crazy an album like Sgt. Pepper's was, and it's funny to think Let it Be was a predecessor. I can't remember which song I was listening to the other day, but for some reason this very vivid image passed through my head of The Beatles as an Old-Time band- having a jam session in some run-down, middle-of-nowhere shack. All I could picture was John, sitting on a wooden porch step, tapping his bare foot as he played the banjo or something.

I bought my plane ticket to Prague yesterday, which means I'm officially Czech bound. Unless I acquire some life-threatening something or another over the next month...maybe another fire ant attack? At orientation in April, they told us to only pack about two weeks worth of items. I remember turning to Kristin with an "are they serious?" look, but I decided today that I'm going to listen. The Czech people place a strong emphasis on a simple way of living, and I want to embrace that as much as possible while I'm over there. Not that my lifestyle here is all that lavish, but you know.

'Rents are here. They're good.
And Happy 21st to A&K.

Introducing Maxamillion "Max" Samuelson.

We are very proud sisters/godmother.

Locavore.

In 2007, The Oxford American Dictionary named the term "locavore" Word of the Year. The word is often used to describe any person who chases after locally-grown food.

In today's fast growing "Green Revolution," a lot of society folk seem to be under the assumption that organic is the sole way to go. It is the safest, healthiest, environmentally-friendly food you can find. However, this is not always the case. For instance, in 2006, a large amount of spinach leaves from the E. coli recall were, in fact, organic. Further, it is likely that you may be eating organic products that originate in foreign countries, leading to a high environmental cost when it comes to importing the product to the United States.

In 2003, an Iowa State University survey determined that the average bite of food eaten in the U.S. has traveled 1500 miles from where it was grown to where it was eaten. On the contrary, they found that foods grown locally through special projects traveled an average of only 44.6 miles.

I am in no way suggesting that one should not eat organically. I am merely informing "the masses" that the next, and perhaps more logical, trend in the Green Revolution is locally-grown produce.

Local does not necessarily mean organic. Yes, they share much common ground, but when it comes to truly adding something to the Green Revolution, eating locally is much more environmentally friendly.

Why go local?

- Fresher, more nutritious (less transportation time from farm to store)

-Reduction of energy consumption

-Increase regional economic health (which increases local quality of life)

-Encourages a self-sufficient community (stabilizes food supply)

-Preserves biodiversity farmers (sell things that are hard to find in supermarkets)

-Preserves the rural character of the land

-Avoid post-harvest contamination (minimal or no waxes/fungicides)

+ better quality, better tasting, and YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR FOOD IS COMING FROM AND HOW IT'S GROWN.

While eating locally can be a challenge for people living in certain regions, I do think there is a lot more value in eating local versus just organic. I'm proud to say Greenville has a thriving selection of local produce, as well as several restaurants/stores that promote local food. Further, we are home to two large farmers markets- Carolina First Saturday Market and Greenville State Farmers Market. And as far as the state of SC goes, the Certified South Carolina Grown Program is currently branding and promoting South Carolina products in stores, as well as working to ensure that restaurant menus incorporate 25% certified South Carolina grown produce and products in season.

While I don't think it's necessary to eat EVERYTHING local, it certainly is worthy of some attention.

Fun Fact- Locally produced food is one of the top food trends for 2008.

Roads.

CassMac and I ventured to Happy Valley yesterday for a brief 24-hour shenangin with Cassie. Besides almost getting killed on the drive there (thanks to rain, a curvy road, and an a-hole driver who can't yield), the trip was a great one. This year, I've had the opportunity to visit a lot of my friends at their schools, and I've greatly enjoyed seeing them in their element. More so, I'm glad to see that everyone has found their appropriate niche.
It's interesting. Meghan graduated from high school on Tuesday and the memories of my own graduation couldn't help but resurface. I was particularly reminded of the day before graduation. All my friends and I had a picnic at the Middletown Park and I brought along a video camera. We each went around, describing what we would miss most about high school and where and what we saw ourselves doing in a few years. The video had your standard laughter and giddyness: "Hell yeah we're graduating, we're awesome, we're going places...but we're still going to remain tight!" Interesting, again. Because I look at where I am now, and I've only remained close with about three of those people. Not because of falling outs, but because time naturally called us onward. We couldn't fight it, nor did we really try to- we accepted it and embraced our unique transformation through life. Just as we were supposed to. And I like it this way. A lot.
As I've now come to learn, life occassionally brings about about certain people who are meant to stay close. When I think about who those people are in my own life, and how they are spread about various chapters in my life, I'm incredibly thankful. And right now, I'm also enjoying watching my sister discover who her "people" are, and anticipating those she is about to meet. I wish I could tell her how much she is going to change in the next few years, but then again, I wouldn't take the surprise away from her for a second. She's entitled to the same emotions, same learning of lessons, same new encounters as I had before her, except that they will be unique to her. All I plan to do is sit back, smile, and support her.

O is for Outstanding.

Hillary down. McCain to go.

Yay Barack!

In Response to K & C.

also, forgot to tell you two. somehow i managed to leave all my makeup in Greenville. i've been mascaraless and eye shadowless for almost a week now. but don't worry. i've managed to borrow some eyeliner from the mom/sister. also, i haven't blow-dried my hair in two days. these are two big accomplishments for me, no?

Bikes. Songs. Bikesongs.

I haven't felt this lonely in a long time. Funny how I can be surrounded by five other people at home, but still feel isolated from everything. What that "everything" is, I'm not sure, but I'm feeling it.
The past few days I've rekindled my love with bike riding. I've been riding my dad's semi-retro 90's mountain bike around Middletown about two/three times a day, and it's been great for the soul. This morning I brought the camera on the solo adventure.

how else have I been passing this time? writing/listening to songs. two songs written. and for some reason, the Beatles' "Revolution 1" has been on repeat today. it's beginning to make me feel a bit dazed.

Why?

There have been several occasions where I've had an itch to sit down at the computer and write something, only to rest my fingers atop the keyboard and watch them remain still. No movement. Nothing to say. So why the longing to write? Do I just enjoy hearing the individual clickings of each key coming together in frivolous typing? Is it the atmosphere I'm longing for- that calm, still feeling in the air, minus the dim music coming from my iTunes? Or perhaps I just wish I had something to inform the masses about, thought-provoking or not. Maybe I simply want people to remain well-read, feeling that my words are somehow helping this cause?

This early morning is one of these occasions. I have written about nothing, yet somehow, my fingers have managed to click out a brief 150ish-word entry to occupy a minute of your time.

Ted Trueblood- outdoor writer. conservationist. Idaho's finest.

A7.

My homecoming was supposed to be a joyous one. Not so much.
I'm currently sitting in a terminal, headphones in, drinking an Odwalla, and praising God for wireless- all five days too early and not in good spirits.

In books and movies, you see people heading home, after a long-term absence, due to a death or other form of tradegy. I remember thinking how hard that must be, not returning home to a celebratory reunion, but to ceremonial mourning.

I don't do funerals. Call me naive, immature, whatever, but I fear them. They make me angry, make me want to close myself off from the world, as if it's not happening. Because they hurt others, and I can't bear to see others hurting, nor hurting within myself. I realize this may sound awful, but I think anyone would agree that death is not a favored reality check. Still, regardless of how I feel, this is not my time to be selfish. I will return home, support my family and my late uncle. I will face it and be strong. For my dad. For my grandma. For my sisters. And I will rest assure that God's cracked and calloused working hands will emerge once more, to shape something beautiful from something so sad and painful.

Sorry this is so depressing.

All Alone.

I'm in the office. No one is here. I've finished all my work and want to leave. However, I don't have a key. Therefore, I have to wait until the other intern comes back from lunch. What is a girl to do in an empty office!? oh wait here comes the other intern...

5 Miles.

I'd forgotten how good it feels to run this much. Clears the head. Replenishes the endorphins. Puts me back in better spirits.

Anyway, I just took part of a conversation regarding passion and activism. The question posed was this: Does it make sense to become part of movement of which you have yet to develop a deep passion, for the sake of wanting to present the movement in an aesthetic, artistic way? Basically, is it wrong to do things backwards- first become part of the movement and then hopefully develop the passion for it along the way.

When it comes to forgiveness, Christianity tells us that we are to forgive, regardless of whether or not we are emotionally compelled to do so. The question posed above sort of resembles this thought process. Shouldn't we be active regardless of whether or not we have a strong passion to be so?

My answer: I do think that passion needs to exist before one becomes active in a movement. Granted, more than passion is necessary for a movement to be successful. For instance, a person cannot allow their passion to bury the inevitable truth that there are going to be obstacles along the way. The person must also be prepared and develop a hard work ethic. Passion is essential though because it tends to act as the emotional stimulus for others. It is passion that brings about more people. It is passion that keeps the creative juices flowing. And it is that passion, if kept in the right perspective, that will help the movement through those obstacles.

The person I was conversing with was feeling impatient, longing to discover a movement that he/she was passionate enough about to start taking action. I'm not a firm believer in "waiting until God lays things in front of you." I believe that you need to be actively searching while actively praying. This is the same situation. To discover the passion, start with smaller, simpler outlets. Establish connections. Have experiences. And along the way, that passion is bound to one day overwhelm you.

You Are Beautiful

Something Reid and I are planning to focus some attention on this summer:
http://www.you-are-beautiful.com/

"The reasons why street artists are doing what they are doing, in the way that they are doing, is not simply to question their surroundings; but to provide alternative perspectives, meanings, or values to those of consumerism.Advertising elicits a response to buy, where this project elicits a response to do something. The attempt with You Are Beautiful is to create activism instead of consumerism."

Keowee.

Sunny days, yay. Too bad sunny days= painful sunburns. It's been awhile since I've been this burnt. My wrists are blistered and my neck has an outline of my necklace, chain included. All I want to do is lay down...which is why I'm doing so right now as I type this entry.

Regardless of the sunburn, I do want to spend more time on the lake this summer. I realized, yet again, how much more I enjoy the lake than the beach- Kristin don't hate me. I love being near the mountains and the isolated, quiet sensation that surrounds you when you're out on the water. It's just one of those feel-good moments.

Now I will wait for Kristin's return home. According to her GPS, she'll be arriving in Greenville at 2:06 pm. It's 1:52 now so not much longer.

Random Thought: The Tootsie Roll Pop ad campaign "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" Who the freak cares? Should our society be considered pathetic since clearly it made people buy more tootsie pops, desiring to discover the answer? And, it really bothers me how the owl in the commercial takes the boy's lollypop and eats it. So now we're a society that promotes stealing as well as stupidity? Crazy candy company!

-Don't take this rant seriously, it's just an attempt at comedic drama-

Engagement.

No, I'm not talking wedding engagement. The context in which I'm referring to in the selection of tonight's blog title is that of conversation- engaging in conversation.

I haven't clicked on a television since Sunday afternoon- unless you count watching The Paper online [don't make fun]. While I don't consider myself a television junkie by any means, I certainly enjoy the great American hobby of vegging out in front of the talking box every now and then. However, in the absence of television, and not that I'm counting this the only reason for these recent happenings, but I have managed to spend a lot of time in conversation with some great people. To name three:

Mr. and Mrs. Samuelson. Hands-down, absolutely wonderful people. Two nights ago I sat and talked with Mr. Sam for a good hour before I spent another hour talking to the two of them. And then last night I spent almost three hours just talking to Mrs. Sam. I really think I can learn a lot from them this summer and I couldn't be more grateful to them for opening up their home to me.

April- Assistant Editor at work. When I first met her back in February she was pretty quirky and kind of hard to have a conversation with. The first time we went out to eat it was pretty awkward, but over the past few months it has become easier, and especially this week, she's really opened up. We ate lunch today at SWAD, a hole-in-the wall Indian restaurant on the skirts of town and I'm happy to report their were no akward silences.

Three. Nice, sturdy odd number. I like things odd.

Anyway, it's all just been refreshing.

I'll close on a random thought: I went to buy a new toothbrush yesterday and started to ponder all the different toothbrushes I've had in my lifetime. I just think it's funny how I actually put thought into selecting a new brush, disregarding the fact that it doesn't matter, because in a few months it will be thrown away and I won't be able to remember it for its once-uniqueness.

Welcome Home.

I'm officially moved out of 102G and officially moved in to the Samuelson residence in Greenville. Tonight, Anna asked me if it was weird not being home for the summer, but I didn't have a definite answer. I guess it hasn't fully sunk in that my summer rythms aren't going to be taking place in Middletown/with my family/with Cassie&Brianna&Alex. I do find it weird, however, that Lauren is currently in Middletown sans Alex and I. Hmm..

I didn't realize how much stuff I had in that small apartment before attempting to move it all out today. I tried as hard as I could to weed through things, making good will piles and such, but still...what an accumulation! There was so much that I "couldn't part with." This leaves me feeling rather uneasy. What the hell do I need it for? I kind of wish I could give it all away and go live among a remote African tribe of some sort.

Anyway, work starts full-time tomorrow, and I'll be back down in Clemson to put even more stuff in storage. Lame Kelly, lame.
I love/miss everyone.

Fried Green 'Maters.

C'est finit. Alors, bonjour l'ete!
The past week I've been experiencing a weird transitional feeling. School is over. Roommates are leaving, but I haven't. My room is empty except for a bed and things I will be taking to the Samuelson's. Work hasn't started full time. So what's a girl to do?

For starters, I took a trip to Nashville to visit Bailey and Jeff, and I'm still pretty keen on moving there after I graduate. Interesting, the diversity of people you can find in the city. In the two days I was there, I met some fascinating people:

-An old security guard at the Frist Museum. He was an engineering student who dropped out of MIT because he couldn't afford it, finishing off at Vanderbilt. He told Jeff and I we should value the fact that we have a passion for writing because he "sure as hell don't!" He flunked english the first time he took it in h.s.
-Dave, a dobro player who started a bluegrass band in Cookeville,TN. He graduated from ETSU with a psyche degree, lived in Boone for awhile, and was a dedicated skater/snowboarder until one day he turned on the radio and heard a bluegrass song. He was hooked after that, and came back to Nashville (where he grew up) to pursue music.
-Christo, a boy from Iceland whose family is originally from Columbia, South America. He has been couch hopping around the U.S. for awhile and is trying to get down to South America. Bailey's friends wanted him to experience some old time music before he headed down to Florida, so he came with us to her show. I've never seen a person so thankful for any kind of opportunity...his face was illuminating the entire night.

These are just a few, but you get the idea. I decided I want to make it a new goal of mine to start talking to strangers more. This weekend, I particularly noticed Jeff's ability to start a conversation with a random person, only for them to leave knowing a great deal about each other's lives. I think this is an awesome way to learn more about the world, just listening to other people's experiences and having the opportunity to share your own. Something to think about.