cloudy days

Tonight I have opened up my blog to find a stream of subjects flying through my head. I have been sitting here a few minutes trying to choose just one, but my mind refuses to let me settle on anything except this confession. Though I would like to be more focused, you must deal with the my brain's current fickleness if you are to read this entry.

Thought #1: We are exactly one document short of being able to mail Levent's immigrant visa application to the embassy in Ankara. From what I have learned, the Swiss are very reliable people, and I am sure they will have Levent's background check to us as soon as possible. I am mentally set to lick the stamp and send the package on its way, but this task requires patience. Also, from what I have learned, this is just one small step in the process of obtaining the green card, getting to the US, getting established, finding a place to live, etc. etc. These are thoughts I often ponder until I remind myself that I have a life to live here in Antalya, and I need to do just that.

Thought #2: Oh man! I was doing so well not biting or picking my nails for the past few days until just now, this very moment! I looked down and saw a crack in my nail, and I gave in and picked it off! At least it isn't bleeding, but I have to get a nail file to it immediately because the rest of it just looks so delicious! Please hold! , , , Ok, I have fixed it, and it still looks like a semi-presentable nail.

Thought #3: I read a quote today which said something like "Home is not where you live, it is where they understand you." I think these are truly beautiful words and can be attested to by all creatures. This is why a traveler can always feel at home no matter where she lays her backpack. This is why some people never stray from their hometown. This is why some people never want to return to the town in which they were born. This is why some people make several trips a year to their place of birth. This is why one woman is writing this blog from an apartment in a foreign country in a city where she knows hardly anyone. I find this quote to be extremely soothing and uplifting.

Thought #4: Children. A few specific ones and the concept in general. The more I teach preschool, the less I feel like having children of my own. I have been thinking that this is one of the reasons I should stop teaching. I should not deter myself from one of life's grand joys (Grand can most likely be interpreted many different ways depending on the age of the child and the current mood of the parent) and experiences. Though I do not want children now, I have always assumed that one day I would want to have a little one. Right now I feel as though the magic number is 35 (years of age that is). However, when I sit and am honest with myself, the future I want involves travel still. It involves the freedom to pick up and move, perhaps not every year but every couple years and the freedom to go to Southeast Asia or South America for a month. A child, a trip, a child, a trip? I have to choose, don't I? Is it like that evasive piece of cake which forces you either to consume it or possess it, but definitely not both?
Perhaps my mind will change. Perhaps not.
As Yoda would most certainly inform me, "Clouded the future is."

_

Floating mentally in a state of non-belief is perhaps the closest human beings can get to flight as of now. Sit down in a chair, lift your feet from the floor and refuse to believe in the reality of anything. Tell yourself that your refrigerator is false, that your driver's license does not exist, or that the chair on which you sit is not at all real. Perhaps you will then fall from that non-existent chair, through a floor which was never there, down and down continually reaching absolutely nothing.
You will be nowhere with no one and nothing.

Stop and look around you now, and perhaps you will see yourself surrounded by objects which your mind has created to comfort you. Perhaps you will see people who are just as far away as they are close. Perhaps you will see yourself reflected in all of these things, or at least what you would like to see in the mirror of personal reality.

Since you can not see yourself, you have collected this assortment of items - pictures, books, furniture - that must indeed show you what you really look like. Look at this photo, this copy of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, this lilac colored sofa, this calendar of beautiful places in the world. This must be me for this is what I desired, this is what I stared at in a store and said "I want." Therefore, this is who I am.
Look into the loving faces of your husband, your wife, your lover, your mother or father. See how they gaze at you with adoring eyes. I must be wonderful, and I must be special. I am beautiful when I see myself through your expression.

Close your eyes and realize that it is no longer there. Look at the darkness, the grayness, the whiteness, and what do you see? Perhaps you are just grayness and you also do not exist. Try to feel when there is nothing to touch, no one to see. Try to see when only dull colors guide your path. Try to taste and smell the air of the vacuum.
Find peace there or suffer the fear and go back to your beliefs.

habits

What do you do when you need to get away, but you just can't? What do you do when you can't stop yourself because it's as natural as blinking, breathing or waking up? Today I am a woman on a journey in a new direction, and I am sharing this with you because the self-help website said it was a good idea.
Yes, my addiction and I have been companions since around the age of seven or eight I guess, and I always found her useful, never used that horrible term "bad habit," until I guess about two years ago. I believe we are now around the the two year anniversary of that first time I quit.

Wow, I was so proud, not sure how I had actually done it, but I was constantly patting myself on the back. A few weeks later of course, I started again. I've probably quit only 2 or 3 times since then, and each time when I go back to it I think how did I ever quit in the first place?
My name is Stephanie, and I'm a nail biter.

I had a friend, Craig, tell me some years ago that I would never catch a man with my nails looking like they did. However, that was about the time I began dating my ex-boyfriend. Though I knew Craig had a point, I had proved him wrong so I promptly discounted his suggestion.

Patterns show that the only times I've "successfully' quit were right before weddings when I knew I had to get a manicure. I knew I couldn't show up to the nail salon with a nub so I buckled down somehow. One might think that if I treated myself to monthly manicures I could again stop this insanity, but to be honest I can't be bothered to spend money on that when I could add it to my travel budget or buy myself dinner.

My analogy for my personal nail biting habit is as follows: Sit a non-vegetarian person down at a table, put a large juicy steak exactly as he or she likes it - rare, medium rare, whatever your fancy. Inform them that this steak will never go bad no matter how long it sits there. It is always available for consumption. There is a small chance of getting a bacterial infection from eating it, but it tastes fantastic. Now, tell them they are not allowed, under any circumstances, to have a bit of that piece of dead animal. Will they eat it?
YES, every time, without any doubt, how can you not, it's just right there and so beautiful and delicious!
This is how I feel when I look at my nails. There they are always by my side, always begging me to take them off.

The sickening part is that sometimes I bite and pick them until they bleed. My nails and fingers hurt, and this does not stop me from continuing to bite and pick whenever I see a fresh white piece. I know there is something wrong with this, and I believe I should stop now.

The problem is that I don't know how to stop and stay stopped. My nails are not like a pack of cigarettes that I have to physically go to the store and buy. They are always with me no matter where I go and so they always tempt me. Even right now as I type this blog, I am constantly checking my nails, moving my fingers over them like Gollum and his precious.

I saw an advertisement on the internet for a 9 minute long video which allegedly has stopped people biting their nails for good. The maker claims that no one has ever asked for their money back, and so many have reported success stories. This is so hard to believe. What could I possibly see in nine minutes that could stop me from something I have enjoyed doing for twenty years?? Really?? I don't care about the germs or the problems with my nails or teeth. I think I have got to see this video just to observe with my own eyes the audacity if this person.

Anyway, my new solution for kicking this habit is to carry a pen to play with when I feel like biting. I can use the pen to either play with, draw, or write - something that will keep my hands busy.
Any advice?

January

In the light of having just finished my monthly reports on my students, I've decided life needs a monthly report. What exactly have we all accomplished this month?

Work: After a mental conversation with myself about how disorganized this school is, I was drawn into a conversation with a co-worker who insisted that this year has taken a giant leap forward from last year. I decided to keep my comments to myself as every day they seem to present us with newly cooked up bullshit. "Oh, by the way, there are only 15 minutes left of class but you've got to squeeze in this crab art project so we can show the parents how much we've accomplished even though our lessons this month had absolutely nothing to do with sea life!" This leads to us doing on the spot prep work while the children sit at the table staring at us. Yes, quite productive.
Anyway though, I have had a revelation that this could be my last year of teaching (at least for some time) so I had better enjoy the children while I can. After all, how can I not laugh and smile as they shout "Don't do that!" at each other, the first full sentence in English that most of them have ever made. What a proud teacher I should be.

In-laws: We were recently visited by my mother-in-law this week. She is a Turkish mom aka Super woman with an apron instead of a cape. She cleaned, cooked, wiped and straightened her way around our apartment for 7 days. Although having her around was sometimes a bit like being in high school again and trying to quietly make out with your boyfriend while your parents are watching television in the next room, she is a lovely woman and we get along great. At least she thinks using baking soda and lemon juice is a good idea on your hair whereas every other person I have told has rolled on the floor laughing about how my hair is going to fall out.

Visa: We officially started to collect our materials for Levent's immigrant visa, our key to unlocking that huge iron gate known as the USA border control. No, let me be serious for a moment. In actuality we have accomplished quite a lot in a few short days - birth certificate, criminal record, criminal record from Switzerland where he spent two years . . . in prison.








Did you believe that?? hehehehehe
Anyway, needless to say, we are well on our way, and I am feeling quite optimistic. After all, we are married, and it's our right to move to the US if we want so there, you silly embassy people! No, really, embassy people if you are reading I highly respect you and need you on our side. :) Thank you for your unending list of needs, I mean for your assistance.

What I feel most excited about is bringing two worlds - the world of my travels and the world I grew up in, together. Basically no one I have ever met while traveling has ever been to my home in the USA or met my family before. The life I know in the USA is so different from the one I know abroad. I am looking forward to seeing that home world through different eyes, through Levent's eyes. I can't wait for him to meet my family members, to ride a bike through Stone Harbor, to be a part of Christmas, to have his own culture shock.

However, for the time being, I am still in Turkey and must enjoy it to the fullest!

a walk

We went for a walk. We stepped out the front door, down the three stairs and into the crowds of the Saturday market. The women trying on cheap dresses were as fierce as lions over a freshly killed zebra. They could not be pulled away from their prey, and we had to weave through them. Left, past the socks and right, passing more cheap dresses. Straight now through the fruits and vegetables and down to the sea side road. We took a left to follow the paved path. Normally we go straight here, but instead we decided to go right.

Down to the little grassy area with a few brown unoccupied picnic tables. It's January and too cold even in Antalya for a mid-day picnic. Our only company was a little gray cat searching for scraps of food.

We reached the cliffs and would have been stopped if we had not happened upon a path with concrete steps which led down, down to the water. We stopped at a landing that began to get steep. There near the edge was, as you will find anywhere there are human beings, was a pile of trash ruining the otherwise lovely scenery.
"If you saw 100 lira, would you go down there and get it?" I asked him, pointing to the trash pile.
"Yes."
"50 lira?"
"Yes."
"5 lira?"
"Yes."
Does this person have no dignity, or would that be my answer, too?

We continued down the staircase until we were right there sitting on the rock that the Mediterranean water continually lapped, pushed against, moved around. I looked up to see only cliffs and sky. Rock around me, sea at my back, sky as far as I could see.
"If you saw 100 lira in the water, would you swim out and get it?"
"Yes."

"If you were surrounded by pure life and pure beauty, would you still obsess over menial things?"

anXIEty

Worry and anxiety... what are they doing in life? Even when I type those words or you read them I bet you might feel some stress. You might feel the pressure of your current problems and what you need to do about them. It seems that over time worrying has become a habit, almost a need, something I do without even realizing it. I can not help myself from doing it any more than you can stop yourself from biting into that hamburger or lifting that cigarette to your mouth. You know it isn't right, but man does it taste good.

I have recently discovered my top two stress relieving habits: 1) to worry and 2) to bite and pick my nails. It's like yes, I want to stop, I'm desperate to quit, but at the same time they are just too sweet to quit. That little high I get is too much to pass up. You might ask how I can say that about worry, but I have figured it out. I have an inkling that this applies to more women than just myself as well. Worry has become a way of "doing something" about the problem. Of course there is not anything I can do about the problem right now, but if I worry about it, at least I'll feel like by giving it my attention I am making some sort of contribution to the solution. It's using worry as some people use prayer, but I'm guessing it's somewhat less healthy.
And what is it about my nails that is so engrossing? That's one I don't think I'll ever solve.

Anyway, I decided to relieve a bit of my worry by talking about it, and since there is no one around but Mac, here I am telling you. We have started, or at least attempted to start the process of Levent's immigrant visa/green card which we hope to get by October at the latest.
Last year when we began thinking about it, the process seemed complicated so we said, ok, let's not worry about it until 2012. Well guess what, right under our noses, January 2012 has snuck up and pinched us, reminding me that it's time for my old friend anxiety to visit again. Let's just say there aren't many nails left to bite.

We are looking at tax forms, copies of every official document known to humankind, an interview, and of course the most unhelpful people in the world working at the US Embassy whose job it seems is to evade answering any questions you have while simultaneously making you feel like you are alone in your struggle to bring your husband to the United States. Another nail gone.

I know that I am supposed to take this process one step at a time, complete it inch by inch, step by step, but right now I feel like I am at the bottom of the mountain. I see a steep brown rock with dark clouds blocking the apex.
I guess the saddest part is that even though I know we will get there, I am not sure where my rope and climbing boots have gotten to. Perhaps my pal Worry will bring them back.

3 week update

As you may recall, exactly three weeks ago I made the switch from normal shampoo to baking soda for my hair. Perhaps you are wondering how it has turned out, if my hair has fallen out or just disintegrated. Let me give you the full report.

My hair is on the oily side to begin with so as you can guess, the first night of baking soda left my hair looking as though it had not been washed with anything for a week. I did not wash my hair every day as I read that this is unhealthy so let me say that for the first week while outside the house my hair stayed tied up, clipped back and covered in any other creative way I could find. My neat freak husband was not too thrilled about how close his pillow was to the greaseball, but he made it along without too many frowns and shakes of the head. :)

Anyway, my scalp began to feel itchy, but I must report that my scalp has also had itchiness under the care of commercial shampoo. As we have heard from locals and visitors to Antalya, the water here though it is not sea water, it is far from Evian. Anyway, I thought to myself, there must be some natural way to help an itchy scalp. After more reading, I came across a formula which was right at my finger tips, i.e. in my kitchen cabinet - two spoonfuls of honey and three spoonfuls of olive oil. Mix them up, rub the mixture onto your scalp and through your hair and let sit for thirty minutes. Then, wash your hair with baking soda and there you go!

Unfortunately for me, the olive oil and honey would not come out of my hair even after several rinses and one baking soda wash. Did I mention this was New Year's Eve night right before I was about to go meet friends and leave home for the night? So once again I tied it up, clipped it back, and tried to act normal. Although it did not ata ll hinder my fun that night, it was a small setback for me because I had to use normal shampoo to get the oil and honey fully out of my hair. Believe me when I say I won't be using that method again.

Anyway, this brings us to week two and a half of using baking soda and the occasional spoonful of apple cider vinegar on my hair. How is it? Any guesses...?

Well, I kid you not that not only is it back to normal it is actually better. My hair is clean, smells normal, and even takes longer to become oily. As I sit here, it has been 48 hours since my last hair wash and it looks as it would usually look after less than 24 hours with normal shampoo. In addition, no animals were harmed in the cleaning of my hair. Mission accomplished.

I am now a convert so please, if I am coming to visit you, keep some baking soda in the house.

The next steps in my plan: homemade toothpaste and homemade deodorant

Ode to Friday

Oh Friday, although I know it is up for debate amongst the masses, to me you truly are the greatest day of the week. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

First of all, oh dear Friday, you are the longest day because you truly begin for me on Thursday at half past five in the evening and so you continue for two evenings, one night, and a day. Throughout every hour of that time I can cherish you, knowing that I am in your soothing, calming presence.

When you wake me up at half past 6 that morning, I no longer fear because I know that you are going to let me rest soon after, and preparing breakfast is no longer a chore because I know that for the two beautiful following mornings I am no longer on breakfast duty. When you send me to school, I can look into the faces of my tired yet slightly cheered co-workers who greet me with the simple phrase, "Gunaydin, Stephanie, Bugun Cuma." (Good morning, Stephanie, It's Friday). Not just then but throughout the entire day as the children scream, as the bosses demand, as the parents phone and the problems build, we are able to throw it all away with our own little mantra that works without fail, "Neyse, bugun Cuma!" (Whatever, it's Friday).

And oh Friday, you allow us to be so frivolous without any cause for regret or repentance. We forget about writing lesson plans, or that Efe needs his medication at half past eleven, or that Semin wanted to see a copy of this or that, and you, Friday, like the wonderful hippie that you are say, "Hey now, don't worry about it, dude. You just give that stuff over to Monday." Oh Friday, you are always ready to lay the responsibility on someone else's shoulders, and that is why we cherish you. "Yeah, man, far out," we respond without so much as a flinch for the job we have agreed to do to the fullest. Neyse, Neyse, Neyse.

With the coming of the afternoon snack time, the parents come to pick up their children early, and we can begin to inhale the fragrant fumes of oxygen being stolen by less of the little spoiled balls of silly energy. Ah, Friday, the air is mine. Now sit down kid, play with those blocks, and don't talk to me. Aaaaahhhh... fresh oxygen free of the smell of paint, glue, and puke.

When you hit half past five, Friday, that is when I really suck it all in because without debate, people across the world can tell you that there's nothing like Friday night. Whether Friday night means beers with friends, bar hopping, date night or sitting at home on the couch with a book, you know it is gonna be freakin' awesome! What other day can say that? What other day has two days of bliss ahead of it? Oh, none, dear Friday, none.

So as I sit here, trying to get the tunes and words of incredibly annoying children's songs out of my head for two days, and I listen to the sound of rain and not the sound of any small, high-pitched voices, I thank you, Friday. Cuma gunu, seni cok seviyorum... Friday, I love you.

December 29

Turkish people have tried to make Christmas a part of their own tradition. However, instead of opening up and making space for it on December 24th and 25th, they have instead dumped it onto New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. They put up "Christmas" trees with lights and ornaments, buy presents and even tell their children that Santa Claus (aka Noel Baba) will visit them. He doesn't come until the New Year though, but I guess he appreciates this as Turkey is one less stop he has to make on an already full night December 24th.

Today is December 29th, and we had our New Year's/Imitation Christmas celebration at school. I walked to school this morning, and it was the first time in a long time (since my MRI on my knee) that I took that thirty minute seaside stroll. The weather in Antalya during the day remains calm and sunny with a chill in the air. The chill isn't biting or intruding, rather it spreads itself out evenly around you and lets you breeze on through as if you were a part of it.

I had a very strong feeling that this day was a start to something new. It somehow seemed fresh and more alive, and in turn it made me feel the same.

Since last week we have been short-staffed at work, and it has not been easy. I have bordered on losing my temper with both children and bosses on more than one occasion. Short-staffed, no assistant, trying to put together a New Year's party, a presentable art project for the children to take home to their parents, end of the month newsletters and lesson plans, and little to no break time all day. This has made for a very ugly few days.

Yet today some light, Liz would be back and therefore the responsibility, the running around, the yelling, could all be divided up that much more equally. Relief.

The school day began. We sang Christmas songs. The creepy clown performed his set of incredibly immature magic acts that the children eat up and swallow whole. Noel Baba came and gave out presents (that the parents had bought beforehand, wrapped and delivered to school). My class went upstairs, and there I was with twelve greedy three and four year old little ones with their packages, "Stephanie, can you open this? Stephanie, open this one! Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie," until I finally decided on a legal name change as the solution.

This is the first time since I became a teacher that I've started to be at the end of my nerves, possibly even dislike my job. Perhaps it's not only that the children are too rich and too spoiled, that the bosses are greedy, or that parent's satisfaction no matter how it comes is the number 1 aim (who can blame them, I guess... this is after all, a business, not just a school), or that there is a lack of support for teachers unless you remind them of the need for assistance a few times every day. Perhaps there is, just as I felt this morning, a change and a new start sweeping through the air. Perhaps I might pick up my magic carpet and hop on for the ride to who knows where.

Sodium Bicarbonate

Some time ago I posted a blog about the use of animal products in shampoo, and how I no longer wanted to use them. After initial research I found myself at a store called The Body Shop which neither uses animal products nor tests on animals. I was glad until I paid fifteen dollars for a bottle of conditioner. This week I found myself doing even more research. Wait a minute, why do I have to rely on stores? Why can I not just make my own shampoo? Eureka!

After browsing around on several different websites, I began to find that it is quite simple to make your own products like shampoo, conditioner, lotion and even toothpaste. Then I found the answer to all life's problems, just a simple chemical called sodium bicarbonate which is also known as baking soda. Yes, my friends, baking soda is the secret ingredient to saving money, keeping clean and basically all of life's other difficulties! Dirty carpet? Put baking soda on it. Baking cookies? Add baking soda. The boss is treating you badly? Sprinkle baking soda on the bastard!

In all seriousness, I read that by massaging a tablespoon of baking soda with a cup of warm water onto your scalp is the ultimate healthy, animal-friendly, pipe-friendly solution.
The only drawback (so they say) is that for the first two weeks your hair and scalp must adjust to this new cleansing method. Your scalp is used to being stripped of all its natural oils from commercial shampoo so it therefore produces them in excess. There is a time period where your hair must realize that its natural oils are perfectly welcome to stay around in small numbers and do not need to overcompensate for the shampoo's thievery.

Also to condition your hair, every so often you can cleanse with apple cider vinegar. Just mix it with hot water, rub it through the ends and rinse it out.

I am currently at the end of Day four of baking soda washing, and I have oily hair to begin with so I do look rather like a dirty hippie, I suppose. Today in the afternoon, one of my co-workers asked me why my hair was wet. I had to explain this new process. "Well, uh, good luck to you, Stephanie," in a not very convincing voice was the retort.
Also, after my vinegar wash last night, I found my husband at the far end of the bed.
"Are you upset, what's wrong? Why are you so far away? Have I done something?"

"Vinegar, Stephanie, vinegar."

Yes, indeed, I did smell like I had just been dying Easter eggs or was a dyed Easter egg, but so what... this is all on a path to naturally clean hair, right!?

Only time will tell!