iamwearingpants: (Default)
"This letter is mostly to warn you of the following: I will probably be unable to call or email, at all, during training, that is to say, FOR THE NEXT 3 MONTHS. It is imperative you know that, so you don't think I don't care. Actually, could you post it to my lj, so the world doesn't think I don't care. Just a quick, 'hey, this is emily. liz says in a letter that she can't call or email for at least 3 months, but she loves you all and wants to hear from you, so write her a damn letter.'"

US Peace Corps/Turkmenistan
P.O. Box 258, Krugozor
Central Post Office
Ashgabat, 744000
(Volunteer name in English)

Türkmenistan Aşgabat, 744000
Merkezi poçta
abonent 258, Krugozor
Parahatçylyk Korpusy, Türkmenistan
(Volunteer name in English)

The Peace Corps says putting the Turkmen address alongside might help expedite delivery. ALSO: "I get my own personal stalker! AKA: KGB-type 'minder' who folows me around, listens to my phone calls, reads my mail, etc. Yeehaw, former Soviet Republic. Probably you should not talk about that, or gay stuff, or the government when you write back."

This is Emily. Liz loves you, but can't talk to you for 3 months. Please write her a damn letter.
iamwearingpants: (orange)
Today I feel very plugged in, and not in good ways. I've been poring over books and the internet and more books all day, and I just want to look someone in the eyes, to dance around at parties, to draw in crayon and take a lot of pictures, to have an I-You encounter instead of the I-It that this paper writing bullshit business seems to bring. (And yes, that business with the hyphens is from said paper writing business. I am forcing Martin Buber's philosophy on you AND not explaining it in full.) I was reading over some old livejournal posts from May and June of last year just now, and it made me sort of wish that I was still the person I was then, but not in the fucked up ways. I was a lot more idealistic then, I still thought I could save the world single handedly, I thought things were more beautiful than I do lately.

There's a paragraph writing itself in my head that I won't type in full about how people have brought out different things in me at different points in my life, and I want some of the ways I used to be and the people who used to make me them back. Yes, there is one person in particular, and it won't take you much to figure out who. I'm not typing it out loud, though.

I think I watch too much TV.


Wrote this last Wednesday: )


iamwearingpants: (Default)

November 2009

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