New Thinking

So, I've decided that I'm going to pick bands I like based on whether I think I could date the members or not. Here are some examples.

1. Lenny Kravitz



No doubt Lenny is sexy. Even when he mumbles something mundane in his low, slow, raspy voice there's not a dry seat in the house. "Hey, hey, hey baby. I'm going to sing you the grocery list. Don't forget to get the little chocolate donuts I like." He's automatically disqualified though because I wouldn't be able to stop giggling.

2. Michael Buble



His sexiness seems a bit forced. I'm sure he's a very nice guy, but I don't cry when I watch an episode of Friends and my boyfriend shouldn't either.

3. Jason Mraz



I could see Mr. A-Z and I hanging out together eating organic food and making hemp necklaces for a very long time. He's sexy but laid-back at the same time. Maybe a little too laid back. I feel like I owe it to myself to grow up. That being said, I still want to ba-du-ba-du-ba-schooch on a bit closer and have him nibble my ear.

4. Fujiya and Miyagi



Why is it that quiet guys in skinny ties and vintage jackets are so cute? The appeal here is in the word economy. (I got so, I got so, so mono-syllabic. You butchered your service with vocal gymnastics. You swagger as if you're the heart of the universe. You're off your, you're off your, you're off your bleedin' rocker. I'm just monkeying around with your furniture.) Sometimes you don't have to say anything - just lay in bed with me, roll over and pull me close.

From where I'm standing.

Not to drag out the nostalgia/suffering, but I've been listening to some music lately that's really putting my experience in Estonia in perspective. I'm really ready to leave this time, but that doesn't mean I don't still love Estonia.

From Where I'm Standing: Schuyler Fisk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6pTCKMRY3XU&feature=related
From where I'm standing,
you're the quiet side of the road.
You're looking so lonely
and I can't stop looking at you.
Your head is hanging,
trying to beat those goodbye blues.
I bet you'll be fine.
I bet you'll be fine.

I guess it's not the way
you always planned it.
Looks like you're heading for a
crash landing.
That's just the way it looks
from where I'm standing.
From where I'm standing.

From where I'm standing
I think i caught your eye.
Are you looking at me
cause I swear I saw you smile
and I'm coming over
gonna take things off your mind.
And I bet you'll be fine.
And I bet you'll be fine.

I guess it's not the way
you always planned it.
Looks like you're heading for a
crash landing.
That's just the way it looks
from where I'm standing.

From where I'm standing
let it fall.
Let it come down.
Let it crash around you,
around you.

I guess it's not the way
you always planned it.
Looks like you're heading for a
crash landing.
That's just the way it looks
from where I'm standing.
That's just the way it looks
from where I'm standing.
From where I'm standing.
I might make you mine.
I might make you mine.
From where I'm standing.

The Next Sun

As I get ready to depart Estonia, yet again, I find myself reading (and re-reading) a blog entry a friend of mine wrote a few years ago about a trip he took from Cairo to Senegal and back again. The whole post - in the form of a love letter - is below with a link at the bottom to the original blog which I suggest you check out. I couldn't have said it better myself. Thank you, Jeremy (of Arabia). :)

02 May 2006

Par Avion

Dear Senegal,

I left you a week ago – the same way I met you. My heart in my throat.

From the first, I could only compare you to my only other real experience. You were different of course, in so many ways. But I was fascinated to see how I responded to you, how I changed anew, how I remembered how much I liked to change.

I loved you for that. I thrilled in the chance to fill, to grow, into the space you gave me in the short time I had.

I studied you first, careful as always. So some things didn’t surprise me. I worked on the language, the mannerisms, and the traditions. What made you laugh, what made you smile, what made you sad. What you dreamed for the future, the past you wanted leave behind.

And so I appeared to you, out of the dark.

But other things gave me pause: The rhythm of your life, how who you are changed over time, how your language was different than the one I thought was all-important and thought I knew so well. You were more than I expected, yet your heart was simple.

I spun, reeling in confusion, as who you really were overtook me like a gust of wind. But afterward, we were both still there, growing together, swaying in the breeze and the night.

Then, I took you for granted. I felt that I understood you, that there were no more challenges. I got comfortable in my limited vocabulary, what I could get away with. I looked over the horizon, looked for the next sun.

And, I lost you.

I’m without you now. Who we were together changed who I am now. But I can’t help feel there was more for me to learn, more for me to change. And now – I can’t.

Maybe I’ll see you again. Maybe I won’t. It might not be up to me. But I’ll keep growing, keep changing.

And I’ll miss you.

(http://jeremyofarabia.blogspot.com)

Kus sa praegu olla tahaksid?

"Where do you want to be right now?" I was asked this question during my last Estonian lecture and I drew a blank. I couldn't think of anywhere else I would rather be right now than in Estonia.

Yeah, it's been hard. And, yeah Estonia keeps kicking me in the teeth. But, I always forgive Estonia and somehow - love it more is the wrong phrase - grow more attached to it - is better.

Estonia has made me laugh and cry. Estonia has embarrassed and humbled me. Estonia has broken my heart. But, at the same time, Estonia has become a part of me. A part of me I won't soon forget.

I've heard it said that to truly speak the Estonian language you really have to feel Estonian. I'm inclined to believe that with all my suffering - I'm getting close. In an article written for National Geographic, Baroness Irina Ungern-Sternberg encapsulates the Estonian spirit with these words:

When thousands of Estonian voices unite in singing folk songs born of the clouds and cold of the north, one senses the power that lies within - the willingness to suffer rather than yield. It is in the Estonian voice that the national soul is revealed, deep, patient, and full of faith.