The Ever Slow and Painful Metamorphosis of Romance

I have a confession. I love smoking. I do not smoke, and I appreciate the laws that keep the rooms I am free of second hand smoke. I would never encourage smoking, and I actively admonish my loved ones when they smoke. Yet, deep down I love smoking. It isn't the actual act of smoking that tickles me so. I find nothing appealing about the postmodern, Neo liberal form of smoking in-which arguments over personal rights and public space have pushed smokers to frantic, quick puffs. There is no time for indulgence. There is no space for indulgence, and along with the indulgence, the romance of smoking has been squeezed out of public space. I am not saying that before the smoking bans everyone who smoked was leisurely and romantic about it. Nicotine creates habit, and the need for it creates a desperation, which has its own romance, but it just isn't what I envision when I say, "I love smoking."

Tonight on our way into town a car cut us off. It was an older, beat-up car very similar to our own, and we were both irritated by the inconsiderate driver. After we passed through the round-about the car slowed again and Nikola prepared to pass him. I turned to my husband and asked if I could flip him off. I know, it is a gross and vulgar action without a lot of real meaning, but every now and then I am irritated enough to consider it. Especially now that I am pregnant, I find myself wanting to flip off the entire world a bit more often than usual. While I was explaining the unfamiliar term to Nikola the anger faded and I decided against it. I still glanced over at the driver of the other car as we passed, just to get the last of my anger out. What I saw was absolutely beautiful. The driver of the other car was an older man, but I wouldn't call him exactly old. His face had wrinkles, but they were obviously more from a life of hard work and loneliness than age. He was slightly small, and there was a wide space between his thin frame and the steering wheel. He wore a thick, black wool coat with the collar pressed down. With one hand he lightly gripped the steering wheel and with the other he held a cigarette to his lips. I caught him in the moment of exhale. He parted his lips delicately and slowly, with measured precision and years of practice, pushed a long, thick stream of smoke from his lungs. The smoke filled the space between the man and the steering wheel with thick tendrils that hovered for a moment before beginning to fade. By then our car had passed his and as far as I am concerned that man is still frozen in that perfect moment of exhalation, with smoke curling deeply around his face.

My first reaction was a continuation of my irritation. Perhaps if the man concentrated more on his driving and had fewer distractions like his cigarette he would not go around cutting other people off. My anger couldn't stick though. The image was too perfect. The man seemed so alone, and so distanced from the entire world. He was separate, creating a world of his own in that car. That is the romance of smoking.

You just don't see that anymore. I thought to myself, and let my mind wander to dirty phrases like, "The death of romance." Romance has always occurred in dark, smoke-filled bars. It is a lone man who has a story to tell. It is the amber of a glass of whiskey. These moments seem to be pushed back by the demands of society. What are the chances of me finding that perfect moment of exhalation in a bar these days? Very little, almost none, and if not there, where will I see it?

I realize I am being melodramatic. Romance doesn't die. It quite simply can't. Romance isn't dependant on the cigarette, the smoke, the alcohol, or the dive bar. It is any moment of separation. It is any moment when a person is alone, and that loneliness, instead of consuming them, creates a completely consuming reality around them. It is painful to admit that the 'easy' catches of romance I have come to depend on for a quick, happy buzz are going to be harder to find, but I will always find romance in new and exciting forms. I can't wait to see how it shows itself next.

Pregnancy Material

Last month Offbeat Families stopped publication of new material. I was first introduced to the Offbeat series of websites when doing research for a content analysis for the modern wedding. Overall I wasn't too impressed. It seemed similar to Rock'n'roll bride: a place to put tattooed freaks who have a different fashion style through repetitions of archaic wedding traditions that are dressed up as to appear alternative. But really, how alternative can a wedding be when it is ultimately still ending in the traditional definition of marriage? Even though it fell short, it was still a step in the right direction (for me) compared to the mainstream websites with their content mills of weight-loss and fashion.

When I became pregnant I started using many different websites to figure out what was happening to my body, what I could expect for the next nine months, and to start determining a parenting "style," for me and my husband. I still use many of these websites because STRANGE things happen to the pregnant body and I have never had to deal with things like constant lower back cramps, herbs that induce contractions, and nipples getting ready for lactation (which are by definition, gross). Because I am an information-addict I want to know exactly what is happening to me, what will happen to me, and what some people have done to deal with these things in the past. For the most part mainstream pregnancy sites do a great job of covering the medical part of pregnancy. But for anything beyond the medical I find myself turning to Offbeat.

Why? Well, because mainstream media goes back to mainstream values. I find a little mention of weight or fashion in almost every mainstream article. Seriously. 

Benefits of breastfeeding? 

"You will get your figure back quicker because you will burn more calories." 

What to do when you have the pregnancy blues? 

"Go shopping. Go get a pedicure. Spend money and be a mindless consumer." 

What do I need for the first month of baby-life? 

"Stuff. Much stuff. All the stuff you can afford, or buy on credit." 

Pregnancy nutrition? 

"Eat healthy for your baby, and keep in mind not to overeat, because pregnancy is no excuse to let yourself get fat." 

You get the idea. Mainstream pregnancy media makes me think that all women who are about to be mothers care about is spending money, working full time so that they can spend lots of money, and the tragedy of loosing their girlish figure through pregnancy/how to make it look like they were never pregnant. I rarely (or rather, have never) found an article that embraced the motherly changes of the body as something positive instead of stressful, and I also find very few minimalist articles. Consumerism and image. That's all pregnancy is about because that's all life is about. Except for me it is not at all about that. Enter Offbeat Families. 

What I like most about Offbeat Families is the variety of content. Yes, it has articles about image, including fashion and weightloss, but they are usually written more honestly, with a fresh perspective- be it body acceptance, or keeping up a punk-image during motherhood. But the content goes way beyond those topics. Breastfeeding articles include mothers who didn't breastfeed, and mothers who breastfeed well into childhood. Instead of a focus on consumerism and ads there are tons of DIY articles and advice on making due without the commercial influence. There are articles on raising your kid in different religions, split religions, and without a religion at all. There are articles that embrace attachment parenting, and articles against it. There is just so much honest, applicable opinion. I feel at home whenever I read Offbeat Families. 

It makes me wonder, really, how many people relate to these mainstream pregnancy sites. Does mainstream media reflect the mainstream life, or is it just another case of the Beaver's and Kinsey, where no one ACTUALLY follows that model, but we all support it because it is the only socially acceptable model that we have? Is the average pregnant woman really most worried about weight gain, being attractive, remaining fashionable, keeping her job for as long as possible, and buying things? Do parents really WANT to fill their houses with baby swings and monitors and rockers and everything else that we "need" to raise babies? I can't believe that. I just can't relate to a world where the primary concern is looking like you are 18 three months after having a baby. Where babies "get in the way" of your social life and work life, and basically your life in general. I don't get it. 

So thankfully there is Offbeat Families, where I can take at least a little hope that there are people like me in the world, or people who are very different from me, but who care about more than their appearance and consumerism. Well, er, there WAS Offbeat families. But as I said, they stopped their new publications last month. Tragic. At least there is plenty of archived content for me to peruse, and there is still Offbeat Home, which has some similar content. But, the more time I spend on the internet the more I find what I once thought of as a great way to share thoughts and ideas has become nothing more than content mills of mainstream ideology and not-so-subtle advertising. I am disheartened. 

The Defense of Marijuana

First of all, I am pro-choice when it comes to a lot of things. I think women should be able to decide whether they want to have babies and whether they want to have sex. I think people should be able to decide what they want to put in their bodies, as long as they are not harming anyone else. I also believe that employers should be able to choose to not hire someone who comes to work intoxicated: even on caffeine, if that is against their wishes. So it stands to reason that I am for the legalization of not only "medical" usage of currently controlled substances, but also recreational usage. Just because I am for it, does not mean it is the "right" thing to do. I don't think there is a clear-cut right or wrong (and by right or wrong I mean socially beneficial vs. least socially harmful) in the drug debate. While I believe in educated, responsible usage of various substances, I admit that many people have no concern for others when it comes to their habits, and although legalizing many controlled substances would reduce some of the risks in their usage, it would not prevent people from becoming jerks to their loved ones, or from becoming a social burden eventually.

However, what I think is absolutely insane, is the way most marijuana activists argue for the broad legalization of marijuana. After reading a few medical marijuana websites, and following link after link to various arguments for using marijuana for this and for that, I find it to be completely contradictory and blindly passionate. Go to any medical marijuana page, and look at the list of ailments that it claims to "treat."  Here, check this one out. Basically, there is a list a page long of various ailments that MM can be used to treat. In reality, MM is more often used to treat the side-effects of these ailments, not the actual disease. For example, it is used to treat nausea, headaches, depression and lack of appetite. Not enough studies have been done to conclusively decide whether it actually "treats" major diseases. (Except maybe cancer.) Calling for more studies is great, but telling people that marijuana is some complete cure-all is irresponsible.

Secondly, people are fighting for marijuana because it is, "all-natural." Sure, it comes from a plant, but the naturalness of it stops there. Medical marijuana (and recreational strands) have been cross-bred specifically to enhance specific aspects of the plant, the hallucinogenic properties are emphasized or stagnated, certain chemicals in the plant that people THINK are medically useful are encouraged or discouraged etc. Then, the plant is processed in so many different ways, including extractions of the various components, that it is not exactly natural. I mean, on the website I linked above I was reading about how MM helps oxygenate the brain to deal with certain issues. The article began by saying that in the East people concentrate on breathing and oxygen supply so they don't have to put the foreign substances (current traditional medicine) that we depend on in the west into their bodies. It goes on to say the answer is not learning how to meditate and breathe deeply, but to use the "natural" method of MM. Huh? It is still putting a foreign substance in your body to do the work that deep breath-work and meditation can accomplish. Sure, it still came from a plant, but these are often the same people that wont put gluten in their bodies because dwarf wheat has become too "unnatural"  through selective breeding for humans to process. (No offense to people who have actually found that they have an allergy or intolerance to gluten, or that their life is better without gluten, I believe that is your choice. It just seems a bit hypocritical in this case.)

Thirdly, people misuse the term, "medical." Getting a medical marijuana card seems to be easy enough. Maybe I am wrong, but I know several people who had legitimate reasons for having a card, but had plenty of extra MM to give away to their friends who didn't have cards. This means that the dosage is not being regulated, by any doctor-patient relationship. But it is something more than that. I know too many people who constantly say they need to medicate.

"I am going through a breakup and can't sleep, I need to medicate."

"My friend died, I need to medicate to deal with the depression."

"I have to medicate before I go in for a big meeting, or else I will have anxiety."

These self-diagnosis are abusing the use of the word, "medicate," in order to validate using a substance not to deal with situations which are within a person's control to deal with. Again, I am not against using substances for whatever reason. If you are not ready to deal with a traumatic life-event, then go ahead and avoid it for a few days until you think you are ready. But don't use the term, "medicate," to socially validate your desires of escapism. This kinda bleeds into my next point: the people I know supporting the legalization of marijuana actively tend to be unable to control their emotions. Maybe it is just the circles I have ran in, but I find that people who smoke a LOT of marijuana tend to be the ones advocating its legalization (makes sense), and these people, that I have known, have been emotionally immature, prone to throwing tantrums, complaining how life is SO-UNFAIR to them, and also emotionally manipulative. It is as if they are in a completely different reality, where they think everything should be lined up for them, and lack the basic skill of considering other people's emotions, desires, and feelings. It isn't a strong point, but it does make the case for legalization hard to take seriously.

Lastly, people tend to over-state the safety of marijuana. Marijuana is a powerful substance. If it wasn't then how could it be used to "cure" so many diseases? But these advocates continuously state that marijuana has no ill-side-effects, and is not addictive. Well, I can definitely say that I know several people who have made bad decisions while under the influence of marijuana, that they might not have made while sober. I also know people who have severe reactions to inhaled marijuana- including anxiety, vomiting, and depression- the very things it is supposed to treat. Now, apparently with all of the extractions and new-strands being created it is possible to get a pill without THC in it that would lessen these side-effects, but I am still not sold on it. As for the "not-being-addictive," sure, it might not be physically addictive, but it is definitely psychologically addictive. People who get arrested do not stop smoking it, even when they are being tested. I have been on several mothering websites where the discussion of fetus safety comes up and there are hundreds of comments from mothers who do not stop smoking while pregnant or breastfeeding, or who have stopped smoking, but are desperately seeking social permission to start again because they need to "take the edge off." If those are not signs of psychological dependency then I am not sure what is.

Basically, I realize this blog post could be more informed on my part. I am doing the very thing that I don't like advocates doing- ranting about things I haven't actually researched or thought about from every side. But it gets frustrating. People advocating blindly for medical marijuana and recreational marijuana, while not clearly stating their reasons for either and blurring the two. People using weak "evidence," and scientific terms to support their own selfish habits... <sigh> No wonder substances are still strictly controlled in the US. 

Baby Clothes: Making vs. Buying

I am taking a break from finishing the second in a pair of booties for my unborn baby. The first one was a little large and lopsided. The second one is a little smaller than the first and still too big for a newborn, but it looks like it will turn out a little less lopsided. That little bootie is the last piece in the first, "set," I am crocheting for my baby, and although the hat might be too big, the diaper cover too small (Or too itchy since I did it all in wool) and the booties a bit lopsided, I am rather proud of them. They are my first crochet-project (and a step up in complexity from the simple pouches I tend to knit for cell-phones and passports), and I feel like I am learning a critical skill.

Am I really, though?

It is a bit disheartening to go to the store and see baby clothes stacked to the ceiling for under ten lev. (About $7). Onesies, jumpers, sleep sacks, booties and hats, all without the little bumps and holes my homemade set has, and all for the same price or less than I spent on the wool to knit my own. I am ruled by a need to be frugal and the frugal side of me says that it is cheaper to buy mass-produced baby clothes. My frugal side says that unless I want to figure out how to card and spin the wool coming off the sheep every spring (don't think that hasn't crossed my mind... I totally want to do that, someday) it is more cost effective to buy my clothes rather than crochet my own, especially when it comes to tiny baby clothes. Okay, if I was really good at knitting/crocheting/sewing then I could make some stellar clothes for me and my family that couldn't be found in stores, but that is not the case. I am a mediocre handicrafter, and I more than likely will stay that way. So, I should forgo the crochet and just go shopping. That's what my wallet says. My pregnant belly says something very different though.

It's not all about the money. Some parents spend thousands of dollars on their first baby. I somehow doubt it is about the money for them, either, but I know that it is definitely not about saving a few dollars on homemade booties for me. It is about nesting. Nesting can take many different forms. Some people can shop to nest, others clean to nest. I have always been more of a literal nester. My room as a child/teenager/young adult tended to resemble a chinchilla nest rather than a "respectable" human abode. Bed on the floor surrounded with twenty pillows? Yes please. More blankets? Of course I'll take them. Books at arms reach? Check. Since I can remember I was the type of person who preferred comfort over style, and always had to have a safe space of my own. Forts turned into rooms, turned into apartments. You can imagine with that strong of a baseline nesting urge I am going a little insane during pregnancy.

What causes that increase in the urge to nest? I have no idea. Maybe it is all hormonal. Maybe it is the stress of thinking about bringing another life into the world that is dependent on me. Maybe it is some combination. Whatever it is, nesting-syndrome has already hit me hard, and I am only starting my sixth month. If I was to purchase my way through these nesting cravings then our house would be full and our bank account empty by the time I hit the seventh month. (Have I mentioned that these urges to nest are strong?) So, I took up crochet. I find it relaxing to sit, listening to music and counting stitches, and watch something adorable and tiny take shape from my hands. The one time I went to a baby store I was overwhelmed and a little sickened by the time I left. I am pretty sure inducing a panic-attack through the endless consumer-choice in the realm of baby, "stuff," isn't doing nearly as much to help these nesting urges as taking that nervous energy and making stuff.

So, that's why I am making my diapers, and diaper covers, and sleep sacks, and whatever else I can find within my skill level by the time the baby is born (and after, if I find time and energy). Sure, it is a little about money. It is a little about my desire to recycle old clothes, and to start our family off with a respect for natural materials and knowing the source of things in our lives. It is a little about labor and not trusting the "fair-trade" label. But really, ultimately, it is about me satisfying a deep, driving desire to have control over something for an hour a day, when I am terrified of what the future might hold. (Terrified and SO VERY excited).

Managing Image Vs. Creating Self

I am going through what seems like a never-ending-debate within myself: Do I purchase a new camera? Most of the time the answer is a simple, "No." I have a camera in my phone that does an okay job of capturing basic photos. I like it because it is part of what I carry on me every day, it is small, and it is not too distracting to pull out on occasion. However, I have to admit that if I want good pictures it doesn't do the job. It is crap in low-light conditions, and forget about any zoom or candid motion shots. So, even though the phone camera is not supposed to be distracting, it ultimately is because I have to get my "subjects," to stay still long enough to get a picture. From experience I know that I can do a lot more with a basic point-and-shoot than I can with my phone, and I suspect that I could take some really excellent photos with a DSLR. The question becomes: Do I want to?

Well, yes, of course I want to have better pictures. But should I want pictures at all? The hippie in me doesn't want to spend time taking photos. Recording moments. I am of the belief that photos distract from the actual act of experiencing. Especially now, with the world of Facebook crunching down on top of us, people spend so much time editing and managing an image of themselves that I really wonder if they have enough time to create the self that they are trying to display.

Here is a picture of the sushi I ate the other day. It took me half an hour to eat, and half an hour to edit the pictures so that they had the correct, socially acceptable, "sushi-feel," about them. Here is a picture of me posing with a statue in the park. Aren't I sexy? Except, the way I walk and the way I talk is not sexy. It all just leads up to that one, false moment... It goes beyond our pictures. What are we choosing to share? Yes, let's share all of the Democrat clips about the government shutdown, but do we take the time to read them, and read more than that, and then really understand the government shutdown and form our own opinions and create action based on those opinions? No, we spend our time clicking "like," to create an image of a socially concerned citizen that "doesn't have time," to exist. We post about peace and meditation when we could be meditating. Oh facebook, how have you overtaken me!?! I get rather fed up with it.

So today I went through some of my old photos. I spent a solid three hours deleting albums, and condensing photos together. Deleting the ones that weren't worthwhile. Because my experience has taught me that I will not go back and look through these photos after they have been posted. I do not spend my days reminiscing about these times. If I do go back and look at them I do not want to be bothered with more than 10-15 pictures of a single event. I am definitely over-snapping and over-archiving. I have found some solutions to this: one is photo-collages, which give an overall feeling of an experience, and the other is video-collage. I don't mind watching a 3-4 minute video of photos as long as the photos are engaging, relevant, beautiful, and the song choice is creative. Watching these things I realized that I still do want to archive my life, especially with the coming child. I want to be able to look back on certain moments, and I want to be able to share those moments with my friends and family across the pond.

The only way I can really justify the taking of pictures within my belief against social media (I know, I use it, and I use it often. I am using it now) is to turn the photography into its artform instead of an interruption of life. An actual event of the technology rather than the technology becoming a distraction from events. It is all sort of confusing these days, and I know that I am going to have to turn off this double-monitor set-up and get outside, and remind myself of what life really is. It's just so difficult. 

What's in a name?

I oscillate within a spectrum of emotion regarding the task of naming our baby. I have always had difficulties naming things. I struggle to name characters in short stories, for whom I am responsible for only five pages. If it takes me a night to write a story, it probably took me three days to imagine the names of the characters within the story. This goes back further. Stuffed animals. I was never satisfied with their names. They went through a process over the years, the names changing- morphing into nicknames- until the beginning was unrecognizable.

Perhaps this stems from a confusion identifying with my own name. My given name is: Lorraine. For some reason the sound of the name reminded me of walnuts when I was little. Walnuts, and old ladies. No one in my generation was named Lorraine, besides me. But very few people called me Lorraine. I got Rainie, Rainie-pooh, and pooh-bear. As I grew up I did some research into what, "Lorraine," meant. I learned that it was French, which I wasn't, and one book said that it meant, "One who weeps." I was a big believer into confessing things into existence and actually believed that my name acted as some kind of prophecy, causing me to be depressed and emotional. Strangely enough I have never found that book again, and all of the websites I look at now claim that Lorraine is a derivative of, "Laurel,"  which means crowned- as in holy or royal. I have never identified with that definition though. Eventually, after years of nicknames, I settled on Kojishi, which isn't even related to Lorraine. It is the Japanese constellation of the little lion, and it fit me much better. I never officially changed my name, and I doubt that I ever will, but I definitely feel like I am Koji more than Lorraine.

So, the first issue with baby-naming is that I don't want our child to go through that period of dissonance. I also still believe strongly in the power of prophecy and am hesitant to give our child a name that will not be positive later in life, while at the same time not giving it a name that will be too much, or is irrelevant in today's world. Also, not being a Christian, any saints names are out, which means most Bulgarian names are not going to work for it.

Which brings me to the second issue in naming: Bulgarian law. I don't know why I thought that just because I am American I would get to name my kid according to American law when we are having it in Bulgaria. American law = anything you want that isn't offensive. Bulgarian law = highly patriarchal. Since the father and I are married the baby is required to take the father's first name as his middle name and either the father's last name or grandfather's last name as a family name. This leaves one name that we are allowed to choose (the first), and even that could be denied as being not Bulgarian. Now, last names aren't something that I worry about too much, usually. I didn't change mine during our wedding simply because Nikola and I wanted the SAME hyphenated last name (Nikolov(a)-Daggett) and they would not allow that. One of us could have Nikolov-Daggett, the other would be Daggett-Nikolova, which made no sense to us considering we wanted to share a last name. We figured that, for the next few years at least, I would keep my last name, he would keep his, and we would just hyphenate the kids. Turns out that Bulgaria has such patriarchal traditions that they will in no way allow a mother's first or last name to appear in the father-family slots UNLESS the child is born out of wedlock. I suppose that we could get divorced in order to get the hyphen, but is it really that big of a deal? So, the baby will be either Something Nikolov(a) Nikolov(a) or Something Nikolov(a) Ivanov(a). Apparently the world is still ruled by the barbaric custom of bloodline decent, which doesn't sit well with me, but our only other option is to birth the baby in the US, where Nikola cannot get a visa on such short notice, so that is out. Generally this wouldn't be a huge deal, except there is a fierce feminist-mother in me that doesn't like the idea of the baby I carry for 9 months suddenly "belonging" to my husband's family and not OUR family. Honestly, if I could just do away with the last name altogether, I would.

But all of this still leaves the problem of the first name. Unfortunately I had to study Walter Benjamin last year, which is not the philosopher to study before you have to name someone. Benjamin examines how we repeat history through the act of naming, constantly recycling names allows us to recycle and redefine our hopes and dreams of the past and subconsciously try to atone for historical wrongs. Being Jewish he was also concerned with the concept of Adamic naming, and finding the true name of things, including the true name of God. According to Benjamin the day that history will begin is the day when everything is called by its true name, and in that act of naming, is able to take its true form. So this gets me thinking about recycling names, and putting all of the previous hopes, dreams, and also failures of a name into a child. It makes it absolutely intimidating to get it right. I think that I would like to be one of those parents who just doesn't name their kid and lets them choose their own name as they grow. Of course, that is not about to happen in Bulgaria. Ultimately that leaves combinations of letters that form sounds that have not been used as names (or at least not to our knowledge), unless I want to saddle my son or daughter with the whole weight of human "history."

I guess that I have about 4 more months to worry about this and then it will be done. We will have picked a name, and we will use it, officially, but in the end it is a journey that the baby will go through as they grow and I am sure there will be plenty of nicknames and eventually this child may find their true self, just as I have. As its parent I can just be there to help it explore who and WHAT it is... <sigh> the first in many many MANY steps of surrender as a parent. 

Nothing Fits

I didn't think that I would be upset when none of my clothes fit due to the bump. I am mostly a homebody and so staying in one or two pajama-style outfits suits my lifestyle and comfort level. However, as the things that remain in my closet grow fewer I find myself thoroughly frustrated. I think the frustration really stems from this sudden cold-snap. At the beginning of October I am not prepared to be chilly, and definitely have not given any thought to being pregnant and chilly. Leggings, bodysuits... those lovely things that got me through the last winter so cosily, have mysteriously disappeared. Some of them no longer fit over the belly and butt, others have gotten misplaced in the move and constant restructuring of our room- a side-effect of my early-stage "nesting."

I have gone through my clothing on three separate occasions. Each time I toss aside more summery tank tops along with pants that no longer button and shirts that no longer fit over my ever-expanding milk factories. Some things are easy to pack away while I find myself struggling to part with others. My last pair of jeans, that had always been big on me, was especially difficult to seal up. If I still lived in the U.S. I would be taking this opportunity to purge my closet. The t-shirts and knits that can be made into diapers would be put into a sewing pile while the items that I have outgrown (both in body and in lifestyle) would be cartoned up and taken to the nearest goodwill drop center. It is an easy way to feel like I am recycling instead of filling landfills.

Unfortunately, Bulgaria lacks any easy-drop centers. I found out last year when I ended my Peace Corps life that if I wanted to donate any of my clothing I would have to get it professionally cleaned, and arrange a private drop time with whatever association I donated to. It was too much effort, and honestly it still is. What I ended up doing was filling a couple of suitcases and bags with clothing and leaving them next to my garbage can. They were gone within an hour, but the whole transaction felt somehow dirty. Why make people pick through trash for perfectly good items when I want to give them away anyways? It doesn't make any logical sense to me. Getting the right items to the right people becomes complete luck. Who knows if people are actually using my clothes, which were in good order and could have been worn for many more years if I had not been moving?

I have found that in Bulgaria people do things a bit differently. Last night Nikola's mom brought out children's clothes from her four children. They must have been sitting in her closet for at least 20 years, and are now still perfectly usable. I get so frustrated by the pack-away lifestyle. The room Nikola and I are in is completely filled with things that I would have donated a long time ago. But with no donation centers Bulgarians have the choice to keep them and find a future use for them, or to throw them out- which is wasteful. So they keep them. I get it, now. Toys, electronics, clothes... they all sit aside waiting to be used again. It doesn't fit my lifestyle which is based on donating to and shopping from thrift-stores to renew my "stuff" every season or, at most, a couple of years, but I get it.


Not having an outlet for my "stuff," makes me suddenly more critical of my intake of stuff. If an mp3 player is going to be stuck in my house forever I suddenly make sure I am buying one that I will want to (and be able to) use forever. Because I hate clutter. Knick knacks and collectables? Unnecessary. And now, my downfall... clothing. I have to admit that I can no longer renew my wardrobe every year which makes me much more selective about what I purchase and accept into my home. Great! I have learned a lesson. A hard lesson! But now the question becomes one of style and intention. If I am honest and know that I have to change my binge and purge shopping habits then I have to be critical and thoughtful about only purchasing useful, lasting clothing. Nothing frivolous that I am only going to wear twice a year. Or at least not an entire closet filled with such useless pieces. So? The question becomes: who am I? What do I NEED to make it through this pregnancy and this winter? What do I need to make it through this life?

I have always had a strong interest in minimalist lifestyles. What can I say? I am from the Fight Club generation and I have bought into the idea that what we own ends up owning us. Back in the day I used to have a guilt-free way of running away from those bonds. Now I have to admit that things are a lot more sticky and begin to really live the ideals that I have cultivated. A tough road, for sure. But when better to start then when a new life is coming into my "organization," kicking everything to pieces anyways?

And... an obligatory belly shot because people have asked... excuse the blurryness of the webcam shot... Eventually we might get some real photos. Or not. Whatever :)