Here is how my friend described it:

“That is the picture of one of my closest friends. He was the president of the “students’ union” of our university.The only legal union that we had in our society & one the most effective one. In 1 day they arrested around 30 people of that organization at Sharif University; but now its just Ali in Evin prison still and it’s around 40 days that he is in single cell and no phone call even to his family and no visit even with his lawyer. Ali is just 21 years old, but He is a really strong boy and we are proud of him.
We’ll be glad if in other side of the worlds people also know about this unfair play and against the human rights in Iran to the Students and Political Actives!”

…

I’ve wanted to share my concerns about the situation in Iran, since the green revolution there started two years ago. I have a number of friends who live there, and I contacted them immediately after I heard about the protest and saw the horrific images in the news.

After I got in touch with one of the girls, she started sending me messages from an anonymous email account. She didn’t have access to Facebook, and she was afraid that if they catch her describing what was going on, she would have been prisoned too. What I read then was striking. It was even more startling to hear about the revolution from somebody I know; to read from my own friend how it feels to see people being beaten to death next to you and know that your friends are  disappearing.

…

I leave it to you to check what is going on there. And, please, be  interested and ask questions. We need to help people there as much as we can. Their thinking is just like ours, and they need to be able to live as they wish!

http://web.mac.com/sbussel/sigalbussel/4_NS.html

The movie ends. Carrie Bradshaw is finally happily married. Summoned by the strong wind outside. I leave my warm room and prepare to go out. I drop my three mobile phones, but I take my keys. I don’t want to ever get locked out of my very own place. I put on a jacket, but I leave my feet bare. I love to be cold and yet to feel warm.

I walk down the stairs; then turn off the lights that help me make through the steps. I remove the nylon which keeps the bench covered against the things sleeping cats leave before they get up. I sit down on the hand-woven cover and stretch my cold feet. I hear nothing but bumping windows. I am perfectly alone. No lights, no cars, no other awaken creatures. I am accompanied just by my neighbours’ spooky laundry spread all over their balconies. I wonder if I’ll see such messy terraces and lavish vine trellis in northern Germany where I’m soon going.

A kiss in a Planetarium… A strong flow of wind makes me scared. It wants to blow what is left of that non-exactly love story far away to the east … but this memory is about 31 363 199 seconds old, the place is 1.7 x 10^14 Å away, that boy is flying over 8000 km away from here. This blow will never reach him – he’s now above all clouds. The place is ruined – they are raising a new better building for the observatory. All those seconds but one have passed away in hopes for another kiss. A kiss I for A second thought would never come.

The wind smoothly stops. I am perfectly alone again. Yet I feel happy, happy that I have someone to talk to. I’ve got myself. I’ve got me to discuss myself with. I want to keep it private. Yet I want to share it without revealing it. That is why I think of it in the language I couldn’t help him learn well, and I publish it where hardly anyone opens.

I climb back, I turn on the lights, I enter my room, and count the mice on the walls. It’s funny I had five of them painted on the wallpaper next to my bed, and yet it was just one rat passing over my foot on the street, that made me eventually realize my hopes will never come to real life.

I need to turn another page right now, but I’m not ready. I’ve been stuck to that memory for too long to just turn my back to it like he does. Maybe one more month would help, or my moving to a place a thousand kilometers away from here would work, or not knowing where he is would do…

What a pity! Watching movies about a happily married author makes me neither more loved, nor a writing better.

“What did you go to Berlin for?” asks somebody

I can simply say I went there for the European youth exchange “City Garden”.

“What did you do in Berlin” another one would inquire.

It’s even easier. “I made a short clip. You wanna see?”

“Why did you go to Berlin?” the most perceptive one would put it.

The answer here is more challenging.

- I went there to participate in a youth exchange, and meet new funny people. I wasn’t quite successful in this. I did interact with them, but it wasn’t as much fun as I need to call it fun.

- I went there to make a short movie. I was fond of the idea of creating something. What I did is something esoteric, which can be understood only by people who know a little English, Spanish, German, and a lot about Kreuzberg area in Berlin. However, I am not disappointed with what I did, because it was for the most of it my idea. I was given about 30 photos taken at one spot in that neighborhood together with 5 pages of depressing text describing the area in the heart of the winter, and 5 sounds two of which recording a conversation about Cicciolina in Italian. What I did was to match the pictures in groups until I find proper contrasts. Then I arranged them, so that I tried to make a plot out of the static unrelated images. I was so happy when I first saw it complete in my head. It actually made my day. I was eager to share my idea with everybody, and after I explain my conception five times, it got even clearer, and I felt even more excited. It’s a pity I didn’t do well on Adope Premiere, and the obscure idea doesn’t even look pleasant to the eye.

- I went there to see Berlin and to be together with someone, who, I thought, wanted to be in Berlin together with me. It was disappointing to realize that I had been wrong that it’s not only me who wants to share our time. As a result I was blue for the better part of the time, but happily I saw much more of the city than I had expected. Consequently, don’t regret spending 11 days there, and I don’t think I’ve wasted them – I learned quite a lot about the city, life, city life, and expectations there.

“Wouldn’t you regret going to Germany in December when you apply to colleges?” is what my brother says, and he makes me think if I would ever know if something is for bad or worse.

My alarm started waking me up at 5:55. I had to be ready till 6:30. My cousin was going to drive me to the SAT Test Center in Plovdiv. However, I wasn’t startled by the sound of my watch. I turned it off and I continued sleeping for 10 more minutes. I didn’t care of being late this time. I was calm!

What?! I was calm?!

Yes, I was. I’d been studying for that exam for only 20 days. I didn’t go to school for the last 10 days in order to study, but I didn’t spend much time focused on Math.

What?!

Yes, too many people told me that the exam was simple, and I tended to believe them. Why?!

Because I wanted to. I didn’t feel like bothering myself studying hard math conceptions that didn’t really catch my interest.

I don’t know how I succeeded in turning off my “Hey, that’s an important exam alarm!”, but I did. And now I was heading for the exam. I wasn’t afraid of it this time. I tried to keep my brain in a cozy state, so that it wouldn’t be tired later.

When we arrived at the Test Center, the Sun was already making everything look cheerful, and so I felt. I met a lot of friends, who were going to test the exam. I laughed all the time, and wondered at my light-heartedness.

Even the endless procedure of filling the Answer Sheet before the exam didn’t exhaust me. Then I took a few deep breaths, and the Supervisor said the “Magic Words”:

“Open your books!”

I controlled myself, and I think I had clear thoughts for most of the time. I had problems with some of the questions, but I had the confidence to try to solve them. I finished with the last question 10 minutes before the end of the exam, so I reviewed the whole test again. Then we all heard:

“Stop working!”

…and I smiled with relief. I felt like having completed a task fine.

Then I spoke on the phone with friends and relatives, I visited my father’s aunt, and told them all how for the first time I am not mad after an exam finished. Later my cousin took me to Metro, where daddy and I bought an inflatable armchair. Oh, I had been dreaming for comfortable furniture for reading for so long! Now I finally found! It was cheap enough for me to invest in it for an year. Then we found notebooks with Van Gogh’s painting on the cover… and we couldn’t restrain from buying them together with a wonderful folder with a World Map on it. I can organize my stuff in it, bring them with me safe all the time, see the World, inquisitively see small countries on the map, and have a clearer view on the US states for my college choosing process.

I don’t know what has happened to me, but I feel so good now. I hope that this different attitude will proof better when I see the results on 23^rd. I had always been dreaming of achieving calmness and cheerfulness, and I really hope this path will lead me to where I’d headed.

‘Do you want popcorn?’ he asked me on our way to his place.

‘Hm… I don’t know… I haven’t had any for so long that I don’t even know if I like them.’

‘You haven’t?!’

‘Yes…’

‘That’s because there’s no nobody to buy you some!’ And he headed for the near popcorn stand.

“Heeeey! I haven’t seen you for ages” I heard him greet somebody. Then he started an hour-long chat with him which ended one kilometer away from the forgotten popcorn idea…

I woke up with the idea of going out today. I desperately needed some physical activity. I found no one to teach me how to ride a bike. Nobody wanted to play badminton or volleyball with me either, so I decided I’m going to visit my classmate in Boliarovo (a neighbourhood of Haskovo which still keeps its rustic spirit, aroma and looks.)

I took the Number 1 bus which was going right there at the end of the town. I sat down on a free sit of the rickety bus, and prepared a coin of 1 lev to pay my ticket to the conductor. A middle-aged plump doltish woman came to me, and took the coin from my hand. She gave me a ticket in return. I was surprised she charged me 1 lv instead of 0.70 as before. That made me read what was written on the ticket. “1 lev” it said, but something else with the ticket wasn’t all right. It had already been used by somebody else! It was crumpled and dirty. What?! It’s as if she gave me no ticket. She’s cheating her company, and she’s going to take the money for herself. “Should I close my eyes to this?” I asked myself. “No! I’m not the same as two months ago. I’m not going to be shy and let her cheat like this. I’ve got the right to defend my rights. I don’t care how she’s going to look at me. She must be the one to be ashamed.”

“Excuse me. Hasn’t that ticket been used before?” I stopped her when she was passing next to me.

“Oh, erm, wait a minute” she replied stunned, and arrived with a brand new ticket in a while.

On my way back I happened to be on the same bus. This time the conductor came to me took one ticket, then looked at me, passed another one to me and said “Erm, this is the one I prepared for the old lady, but she had a card, and it left. Anyway, I’ll give you a new one.” Then she put the old ticked in the other hand on the stack of obviously already used ones.

(Old Man in Sorrow (On the Threshold of Eternity) is
emblematic of Vincent van Gogh’s suffering in his
final months in Auvers-sur-Oise.)

I see him every day. He has his usual walk on his crunches. Then he sits on the concrete bench in front of his tenement. He sits there for hours and hours until his wife takes him up to their flat.

I’ve known that man for all my life. He and his wife are my neighbors. She used to be quite neurotic when we played under her window. She threw jars on us… However my grandmother has been her friend. That woman was her hairdresser for a long, and now she is often visiting our house. I didn’t know that weak and quiet man was her husband. He seemed totally opposite to her temperament, although I’ve never had any contact with him.

Now when I stare out through the window next to the screen, I see him standing alone with his crunches on one side. I’ve heard he had a car accident last year, which obviously made him much weaker than before.

He reminds me of my late grandfather. He was that weak in his last weeks… and I visited him only about five times for two months. Grandpa always told me to consider school and studying first, but he was so happy when I was with him. In his last weeks he felt so hopeless, he didn’t even want to speak, but he seemed to be pleased when I told him of every little or slightly bigger success I had. That is why I tried to present everything good I’d done. He was the first witness of my success with jumping – I finally reached the ceiling after many years believing that I won’t be able to do it. I was so pleased that I used every opportunity to jump in my grandparents’ flat. The last time I went to visit him, before I looked at him, I casted a glance on the ceiling.

“Keep away from the TV antenna” he murmured. I smiled and didn’t jump.

I can’t watch my neighbor waiting his end like that. I must not switch on Damien Rice and watch the sunset walking in the town this time . I don’t want to do it again. I won’t be able to approach him either. I am so wretched. I write essays about changing and being able to be at ease among unfamiliar people and in different situations. Still, I am not capable of going to talk to an old desperate man. I don’t know what to tell him, I don’t know how to act. I am just going to stay here and timorously watch.

Seeing the different faces of the people in Bulgaria, one can learn about the situation here, because approaching society through different people’s eyes is a great way to explore it. He can hear all kinds of people, and observe their manner of speaking, their way of expressing, and their way of thinking. He can feel close to them and like them, or see how distanced from him they are, but still he will see his society through them.

Do you see the dancer turning clockwise or anti-clockwise?

If clockwise, then you use more of the right side of the brain and vice versa.

Last October when I added this test as an application into my Facebook profile, I decided to hide it. It showed that I was more like right-brained, which made me scared that I’m not proper for doing astronomy.

However, a few days ago, after a month spent mainly with three piles of Physics books, when I opened it again, it was difficult for me to see the dancer turning clockwise. It was difficult to write the previous post, too.

It seems that my left part of the brain is prevailing now.

“… let’s help elect Barack Obama our president!”

I went to the bathroom.

“… let’s help elect Barack Obama our president!”

I walked the way to school.

“… let’s help elect Barack Obama our president!”

That seemed to be the chant of my tired brain that morning. I couldn’t drive it out!

“Let’s help elect Barack Obama our president!” I said to my classmates

“Hey, what’s wrong with you? What was that?”

“Let’s help elect Barack Obama our president!”

“Haven’t you slept at all?”

“Oh, I have. I slept from 2:30 to 6:30.”

“What were you doing last night? Watching presidential campaigns?”

“No, … ugh.., yes!!, I mean, the last thing I saw last night was Barack Obama, but I watched Hillary Clinton on Saturday. I watched her Endorsement Speech, in which, I think, she repeated that phrase for about a thousand times in a couple of minutes “

“So let’s help elect Barack Obama our president!”

“No, don’t say that again! It’s so annoying! It doesn’t sound pleasant from your mouth”

“But that’s exactly what she said… Let me show you this video!”

“Four times in three minutes?! You are as good in repeating that as she is “

However, this slogan seemed harmless compared to the repeating of “energy resources”, “global warming”, “segregation”, “women’s rights”, “Troops in Iraq”, “middle class” and “Stronger America”

I didn’t like the speech. It was trite. Clinton just repeated the main shortcomings of the US throughout the years. The only thing that kept me in front of CNN for half an hour was the fact that her wordes were so simple that I could understand everything. That made me remember the challenging SAT readings based on Martin Luther King’s speeches, and their persuasiveness. The weight of his words came from the significance of his causes as well as from his eloquence which I couldn’t catch in Clinton’s final act. I got a bit disappointed of the presidential campaign, but then a friend of mine told me about this:

This speech is different. Here Senator Obama says “I am reminded every day of my life, if not by events, then by my wife, that I’m not a perfect man. I won’t be a perfect president..”, while Hillary Clinton declares “I was proud to be running as a woman, but I was running because I thought I’d be the best president”. She’s repeating the modern society’s concerns and the causes she’d be glad to work for, while Obama’s retelling a real amusing story which shifts the focus on the ordinary individual and makes him believe that large-scale ideas stem from the smaller events. While Clinton is harping on the key points of her political program, Obama is galvanizing with: “Fired up! Ready to go!”.

This juxtaposition made me realize my brain keeps repeating: “Let’s help elect Barack Obama our president!”, only because I’d rather hear more of “Fired up! Ready to go!” in the future.