Nobody Likes a Cutter

Ladies and gentlemen: do you know what really pisses me off? I mean, really gets under my skin? Here it is: when Russians cut in line. Okay, well, not just Russians, but all humans. But all the humans in this country are Russian, so there. And when they cut in line, let me tell ya, I’m ready to slap a bitch.

Back in 2008, when I was studying abroad through Stanford at this hella yuppie university called the Academy of the National Economy, the Russian students cut in line at the cafeteria as if it were some rite of passage. Literally without fail, everyday at least 10 people cut in line in front of me. The fact that they were spoiled, rich, arrogant kids only made it more annoying. So while I would start out in a pretty good spot in the line, soon enough I would be at the tail end of a long-ass line that previously did not exist. That really got my goat, but back then my Russian vocabulary consisted of “hello”, “goodbye”, and “thank you”, so there wasn’t much I could do to correct the gross injustice I witnessed everyday in that warzone of a cafeteria.

But today, I put a stop to it. Today I stuck it to the man (that is, the cutting-in-line man) and said “ah hellllll nah”. Today I was feeling a little bit on the grumpy side, so I was ready to get ferocious with some Russians if need be. And, well, sure enough, there I was, standing like a good law-abiding citizen in the cafeteria line, and a group of two or three dudes cut in front of me. (The way it works is that if someone wants to cut in line, they pretend that they are extra good friends with someone up near the front, and they suddenly get all chummy, and make conversation with that person. And soon enough, they’ve finagled their way into the line. And they feel so goddamn good about themselves, having manipulated their way to the front of the line.) So when the aforementioned two or three Russian dudes were soon followed by two or three more dudes trying to cut in front of me, I wouldn’t have it. I got all indignant and, in the best Russian I could, managed to say, “Excuse me, please!” And the Russians got all freaked out by the seething little American and went to the back of the line. I felt pretty damn good about myself. Just being able to put those damn cutting Russians in their place compensated for all the times those asshole yuppie Russians at ANE cut in front of me with impunity. I mean, seriously people, who the hell cuts in line? Okay, yeah, we did that shit in elementary school, but we’re in college, kids. And you’re going to have to answer to Buff Bagot if you want to get your lunch without having to pay your waiting-in-line-like-everybody-else dues.

In other news, Vladimir Vladimirovitch continues to bite me every single day, multiple times.

WWFS? (What Would Freud Say?)

I had a strange dream last night.

I left Russia to audit some course at Stanford for a few months. It was November, I think, and I was planning to return to Russia in March. I don’t remember much about the dream, except that I was upset to be back in America and desperate to return to Russia. Weird, huh? Obviously I’ve had a serious change of heart about this country.

Who knows what the future holds for my relationship with Russia. We are madly in love with each other, but I think we also sort of hate each other. But we seem to be learning to set aside our differences and get along. Admittedly we are still in the honeymoon stage of our relationship, since I’ve only been here for two months. Soon enough, complacency will set in, and living in Russia will be just like living in the US, only more difficult. But only time will tell if Russia and I are in it for the long haul.

Meet Vladimir Vladimirovitch

My lonely days are over, it seems. I’ve finally met someone perfect for me. I never thought I would end up with a Russian man, but sometimes life hands us unexpected surprises.

His name is Vladimir Vladimirovitch (he and Vladimir Putin share the same name, which is a great sign). He’s a bit quiet, sort of nervous and even a bit twitchy. Smaller than most men. Quite sedentary. But he is very sweet, and I know he means well. I even snuck him into my dorm, which is strictly against the rules. And the best part is that he only cost me 200 rubles ($7).

All right, fine, Vladimir Vladimirovitch isn’t a man, he’s a Siberian dwarf hamster. But at this point in time, it’s my best option. I needed someone to love, and well, now I have someone to love. Although he has bitten the shit out of my fingers a number of times, I’m trying to be patient with him. I get him out of his cage several times a day to hold him and let him run around on my bed. I am hoping that this will cure his desire to draw blood out of me with his sharp little rodent teeth. I guess by purchasing a male hamster I ran the risk of dealing with an aggressive little f@#$er.

I’m a bit concerned that he is going to stink up my room, being a nasty rodent and all. If that happens, I am going to have to get rid of him. My back-up plan is to sneak him back into the pet shop and deposit him back into the hamster cage when no one is looking. Then I will try to find a mouse at another pet store (they didn’t have mice at this one). Mice don’t smell as bad as hamsters, and they’re smarter. But anyway, I’ll have to make do with what I have now. Vladimir Vladimirovitch seems to be a bit stupid, but hopefully I will find some quality in him to love. Animals are supposed to be therapeutic and improve your quality of life. And goddamnit, if Vladimir Vladimirovitch doesn’t improve my quality of life, he’s going back where he came from.

A Welcome Change of Tone

It’s about time that I finally broke the silence. It wasn’t intentional. I’m sorry. It’s just that sometimes life just takes over and I forget to write. Either that or too much happens and I can’t bring myself to focus on a particular subject matter. Directionless blog entries really bother me. That’s why I create lists. They lend a false sense of order to an otherwise chaotic, unorganized life. I have OCD, ok?

My attitude has changed a lot since my last post. Of course, I am always evolving. That’s what it is to be a human being searching for some meaning in life. My mindset has made a virtual 180 shift from a few weeks ago. I guess because I am a capricious person. But also because I have been adjusting little by little, until I finally find myself with some sense of stability and comfort with this new life. For one, I’m not afraid anymore. I still only understand about 70% of what I hear in Russian, and I still stumble over my words like a retard when I need to express myself. But I don’t feel like an alien here anymore. I feel like I live here and that I’m not just passing through. But instead of growing bored by Russia as its newness wears away, I find myself discovering things I never paid attention to before, or things I simply never understood because I was (well, and still kinda am) a stupid tourist with a weak grip on the Russian language. I am excited by Russia. I find it exhilarating. I like Russia. I’ve made Russian friends, I’ve gone out dancing, I’ve been wasted a few times. I’ve had some amazing—and more importantly, completely new—experiences. I have a daily routine, but something different and new happens everyday. Although some of this can be attributed to big-city life, much of it is due to a growing cultural awareness. This culture has so much more to offer than bumbling alcoholics, bears, borscht, and blistering cold. Its people are complex. I mean, of course I’m bordering on a dangerous generalization here, but I really feel that there is a collective Russian soul which has no American equivalent. When you talk to a Russian, you don’t just talk bullshit, and get wasted (although of course alcohol is always involved), and make stupid jokes, and engage in shenanigans. You talk life, and real problems, and real stuff. Russians aren’t afraid to breach sensitive subjects like money, illness, love, even when you’ve just met them. They are emotional and opinionated, and there is not a subject they won’t talk about. I’m not hating on America here. It’s just that, I have very few American friends that I really talk to. Some subjects are just too heavy to discuss.

At this moment in time, I am content with my life. Like any female, I often have ridiculous mood swings, and it is inevitable that I will have moments of bitchiness, insecurity, and depression in the future. But there is something about my life right now that feels right, like the planets are aligned. I feel freer than I’ve ever felt. I can choose where I go from here. I have made no decisions or commitments yet, but I am considering staying in Russia longer than I originally planned. I like it here, a lot. Of course, that may very well be because it is still exciting and exotic to me, and because I have yet to conquer the language. Once I do so, maybe I will get bored. But until then, I feel myself evolving everyday into the adult that I’m going to be. I don’t know what that adult is going to be like, but I am holding the reins and I have complete control over the ultimate outcome. I don’t know anymore what kind of career I want, and I am not even entirely sure that that’s the most important thing for me to be thinking about. If I am in the country I love (for some odd reason) and doing things that make me feel good, maybe the rest will fall into place. There are countless opportunities in Moscow for foreigners to find lucrative work, and it’s possible that I will come across something that’s perfect for me. Ultimately I just want to be doing something exciting and fulfilling that challenges me everyday. And I just want to be happy, because this is probably the only life I have. And it’s not like time is going very slowly.

I don’t know. I’ve just felt pretty good these past two weeks or so. I guess things are just falling into place, as I hoped they eventually would. Time will tell if I can maintain this sense of contentment. I’m not very accustomed to feeling like this, so I’m a bit reluctant to trust it. We’ll see.