Last January

Last January: struggling with the Cyrillic alphabet. I mean, alfaveet.

This February: reciting excerpts of Pushkin.

I am immensely grateful for having been able to study Russian this past year. It's the type of gratitude that is so large I could almost fit Russia inside, maybe with the Urals and a few peninsulas sticking out. It's hard for me to explain what Pushkin means, not just to me, but to Russia. Think Shakespeare,  but even more important. And even more lyrical.

It was 10 degrees out

So maybe last night I didn't want to reveal in front of my date that my fingers were too cold and wimpy to open a chocolate bar wrapper so I snuck the pair of tiny scissors out of my pocket and cut it open without him noticing.

The Proof of the Skittles

Sometimes things happen so fast that I doubt they happened at all.

For example, my 12-hour roommate.

I got back to Provo at about eight or nine in the night. My new roommate was cheerily unpacking her belongings, moving in. Said hi. I went to sleep pretty early. And then I left at eight or nine in the morning and she was asleep in the other bed in my--our--room. When I came home at four in the afternoon, she and all of her belongings had evaporated. I was so shocked that I went and found my other roommate and asked if I hadn't had an extremely vivid dream or something.

But no, my other roommate had seen her (but hadn't witnessed her exit), and there were marks in the carpet where her boxes had been, and that was it.

I have not heard or seen her since. Some pretty good theories I have:

• aliens
• witness protection program
• kidnappers who also wanted to stock a college apartment
• she was a ghost the whole time

And then there have been these tiny, explosive[ly powerful] thunderstorms. Maybe it has to do with the ghost theory--can ghosts influence weather? Is ghost-roommate mad that I put bedding on her bed? The storms have at least given us something to talk about in Russian, because a good part of the unit we just finished consisted of complaining about the weather.

When I got hailed on the other day, I thought, Yes! Now I have something to write about on my Russian exam tomorrow! All the thunder, lightning, hail, and rain had started and finished in ten minutes of fierce downpour. The hail was quickly melting into the ground, but I wanted to keep a  dime-sized bead of hail because... of reasons? Hail is cool. In the ten hot, sunny minutes after the storm, the hail completely disappeared from my jacket pocket, much like my erstwhile roommate. Well, she wasn't in my pocket. But you know. 

But I have proof of that storm. Sticky, sticky proof. The rain liquified a cache of skittles in the front pocket of my backpack and it coated everything in the vicinity. I've been wiping the stickiness off of way too many of my belongings the past few days. Most are salvageable. One pen, encrusted in blue sugar substance, no longer writes, but at least it was a cheap pen.

Us into Temptation

I can already tell that Russian choir is going to be interesting. The conductor? instructor? in-charge-guy? doesn't speak Russian. Rather, he speaks music. Which is useful, but also today we were singing the Lord's Prayer and we kept repeating the same line over and over. Not that he knew it, but we were singing "us into temptation, us into temptation, us into temptation, us into temptation." Somewhat  sketchier/darker than the intent of the Lord's Prayer, I feel like.

Also, I love teaching. I've only taught two classes so far (as a TA) but I am in love. I can't wait for next week when I get to incorporate Star Trek: The Next Generation into the lesson. (We use some episodes as examples of bioethical dilemmas and ethical schools of thought. It's wonderful.)

And I'm learning tango. Aaaah it's so great. What else? Oh yeah, campus is SO CROWDED compared to the summer. I kind of forgot how it was. You can tell who attended summer term because they mutter things like "we need a plague" as they shove through crowds walking between classes. Not that I would ever say something awful like that. :)

Men of Worth

Recently, I got obsessed with the song "Men of Worth," a Scottish song written in the 1970s about the new oil industry. I want to collect and post everything that I could find out about the song here, for... humanity I guess. Here is Mary Black singing it. Scroll down to see my interpretation of the lyrics:

"Men of Worth" by Archie Fisher:

Leave the land behind, laddie, better days to find 

The companies have the money and they'll soon teach you the skills 

Green fields far away, lads, the Forties and the Brae

Be a madman or a roustabout, they'll soon teach you to drill 

But who will tend me sheep when I'm far o'er the deep? 

On the Neptune or the Sea Quest when the snow comes to the hill 

Leave the fishing trade, lads, there's money to be made 

The hand-line and the Shetland yoal are of a bygone day [alternate: hard life and the Shetlands] 

Come to Aberdeen, lads; sights you've never seen! 

Be a welder on the pipeline or a fitter at Nigg Bay [alternate: McVeigh] 

But when the job is o'er and your boat rots on the shore
How will you feed your family when the companies go away?

There's harbours to be built, lads, rigs to tow and tilt 

To rest upon the ocean bed, like pylons in the sea 

Pipelines to be laid and a hundred different trades
That'll pay a decent living wage to the likes of you and me

I know you're men of worth; you're the best that's in the north
Not men of greed, but men who need the work that's come your way
From Flotta to Kishorn a new industry is born 

Now Peterhead and Cromarty will never be the same 

I know you're men of worth; you're the best that's in the north
Not men of greed, but men who need the work that's come your way 

My Notes on the Lyrics:

Leave the land behind, laddie, better days to find 

The Scots joining the oil industry were "leaving the land behind" in two ways: first, they left behind their land-based farming, sheepherding, and fishing to go to the middle of the North Sea, and second, they started exploiting the land on a radically bigger scale as part of oil extraction.
The companies have the money and they'll soon teach you the skills 

"The companies" are actually mainly one company, British Petroleum, as this was the 1970s and they had extensive control over the UK's North Sea oil then.
Green fields far away, lads, the Forties and the Brae 

Another double-meaning line! I love these. The "green fields" are the Scots' native pastures and former place of earning a livelihood. The Forties is a far-away kind of field from green fields; it's an oilfield, the largest in the North Sea. It is also literally far away as it is over 100 miles offshore. It was named "The Forties" because it is located 57° 43′ 0″ N, 1° 1′ 0″ E, in "the forties." I thought the Brae must also be an oilfield, but it is not insofar as I can tell. Rather, Brae, formerly a fishing village, is the site of Sullom Voe Terminal, a place for oil to be stored coming in from the North Sea before it is taken away by tanker.
Be a madman or a roustabout, they'll soon teach you to drill 

You have to be a bit crazy to want to live aboard an oil rig. Rough sea conditions, the possibility of being trapped by storms, and risk of fire and explosion, to name a few dangers. "Roustabout" is a general term for an unruly person or several types of manual labor, but here the song refers to the actual oil industry job title "roustabout." Aboard an oil rig, a roustabout is a jack-of-all-trades of sorts and does a lot of dirty and difficult work related to keeping the rig running.

Spot the Forties

But who will tend me sheep when I'm far o'er the deep? 

Good question.
On the Neptune or the Sea Quest when the snow comes to the hill 

Neptune has got to be one of the most outrageously popular names for oil rigs ever. I can't even find which Neptune the song is referring to because it's the name of so many rigs. The Sea Quest was a lot easier to track down. Here you can read about the history of the Sea Quest. The Sea Quest found the first UK territory North Atlantic oil in 1969 (thus giving rise to the Scottish oil industry of the 1970s and everything in this song). In 1977, BP sold the Sea Quest to Sedco and they renamed it Sedco 135C and hauled it south to Nigerian oilfields, where in 1980 it caught fire and it was sunk. 

Semi-submersible rig similar to the Sea Quest

Leave the fishing trade, lads, there's money to be made 

I gather the fishing trade was not all that lucrative.
The hand-line and the Shetland yoal are of a bygone day [alternate: hard life and the Shetlands] 

Hand-line fishing is the oldest and simplest form: the fishing line is in your hand. It was still quite prevalent. The lyrics I found say "Shetland yawl" but I am correcting it here to "Shetland yoal." A yawl is a sleek, two-sailed racing sailboat, and a Shetland yoal is a traditional, simple wooden rowboat that can be outfitted with a square sail. It seems more likely. The alternate line has the men leaving behind the hard life and the Shetland Islands behind.
Come to Aberdeen, lads; sights you've never seen! 

Aberdeen is the jumping-off point for a lot of the North Sea oil fields. If you want to get to the Forties, you will get to it via helicopter from Aberdeen. Men were also needed to work on the extensive oil infrastructure in Aberdeen.
Be a welder on the pipeline or a fitter at Nigg Bay [alternate: McVeigh] 

Nigg Bay contains both an oil depot and an oil rig construction yard. Today the oil rig construction yard is an "energy park" and they make giant wind turbines there. No idea what McVeigh is other than a Scottish surname. I think that Nigg Bay is the correct lyric.

"Shetland" or "Ness" Yoal

But when the job is o'er and your boat rots on the shore
How will you feed your family when the companies go away?
Thoughtful (controversial) lines such as these made the BBC reject this song after originally commissioning a song about the new oil industry. Mary Black sings this song, and the album notes say: "When composer Archie Fisher was commissioned to write a song for a BBC program celebrating the new oil economy of Scotland, he submitted "Men of Worth," a song which points out the pitfalls of trading a way of life for easy company money. Although "Men of Worth" was rejected for its original purpose, it may well become an anthem in this age of multinational corporations."

Archie Fisher

There's harbours to be built, lads, rigs to tow and tilt 

Oil rigs are towed out to where they're needed after being built. Semi-submersible rigs such as the Sea Quest have a heavy ballast of water they can take on to control their height in the water. The amount of ballast has effects on the tilt of the rig. Sometimes things go wrong and rigs begin tilting uncontrollably and the occupants have to flee for their lives.
To rest upon the ocean bed, like pylons in the sea 

Pipelines to be laid and a hundred different trades
That'll pay a decent living wage to the likes of you and me 

Nigg Bay

I know you're men of worth; you're the best that's in the north
Not men of greed, but men who need the work that's come your way
From Flotta to Kishorn a new industry is born 

Flotta: a small island in the Orkneys with a major oil terminal. Formerly a quiet farming community, then a WWI and WWII naval base. Kishorn is the collective name of the small settlements around Loch Kishorn. There, Kishorn Yard built oil rigs in a separated community of 2000 workers who had all their supplies ferried in so as to not tax the road and change the surrounding communities. This yard operated until the 1980s when the oil industry was no longer large enough to sustain it.
Now Peterhead and Cromarty will never be the same 

Peterhead: Formerly a fishing town with a good harbor, Peterhead became a locus of the oil industry with the building of the St. Fergus gas terminal. Cromarty: the firth (strait) containing Nigg Bay.

Kishorn

I know you're men of worth; you're the best that's in the north
Not men of greed, but men who need the work that's come your way 

They Would Be Hedgehogs

Today, in class:
(I am A, for answers. Q is questioner, or classmate.)

Q: What would your patronus be?
A: Oh, I don't know, maybe... an eagle?
Q: A hawk? I see you as more of a hawk person. But what would your demons be?
A: (struck by sudden inspiration) They would be hedgehogs, but instead of spines they would have little flames coming out of their backs.

The idea was so perfect that I started drawing one on the board (we were up there for grammar practice). Then my teacher: "Oh, that's so cute! It looks like... a hedgehog... but with fire instead of spines."

= I'm a winner at graphically representing my personal demons (which are apparently adorable).

Xочешь...?

When I got sick, I tried to memorize the lyrics of the song "Xочешь" (pronounced "HO-chesh'" meaning "you want") by Zemfira. It seemed like a reasonable pick because it doesn't have all that many lyrics and a lot of them involve grammar that I'm about to be tested on. Also, the song seemed like a good idea because my brain wasn't computing anything in my textbook.

The day before yesterday, I fell asleep after Trevor left. He brought me movies and gatorade and soup, because he is the best. I chatted with some people on facebook, trying to get entertainment by claiming that I was sick (true) and only funny pictures on the internet could cure me (arguable). And then I fell asleep at 11 p.m., and woke up in an achy fever at 2 a.m.. I tried to fall back asleep, but the fever wouldn't let me, and I had "Xочешь" incessantly stuck in my head.

Even though I was awake from 2-6, during all my hours of contemplation, I completely missed the irony of having "Xочешь" stuck in my head. I mean, come on, it has lyrics like this: "Хочешь, я взорву все звезды что мешают спать?" and "Хочешь, я убью соседей, что мешают спать?" That is, "Do you want me to blow up the stars that interfere with your sleep?" and "Do you want me to kill the neighbors who interfere with your sleep?" No, Zemfira, thanks, that won't be necessary.

So what was I thinking about? I have only to look at the texts I sent my night shift-working friend to tell you. And I quote: "Cats would look weird if they had no eyes don't you think" then, towards dawn, "In Spanish dawn is el alba which means the white, like the white of an egg. Or amanecer but that means sunrise more or morning-ing. I have no idea why I'm going on about this." (It was after I re-read what I'd said about cats that I was like "Look, self, I don't care if you don't want to get up, we are getting up and getting ibuprofen.") After the drugs kicked in I fell asleep and it was great.

The next afternoon, which is to say, yesterday, I went to class because I was done being sick even if my body wasn't. I stepped outside and it was SO. BRIGHT. And so then "Xочешь" started playing in my head again, this time starting with the line "Хочешь cолнце вместо лампы?" ("Do you want the sun instead of a lamp?") Nooooooooo...

But now I'm pretty much almost great. No "Хочешь" and no fever, anyway.