Mid-February:

It's late, and when I'm not listening to Turkish radio, sometimes I sing the blues in my apartment. Tonight I forgot the lyrics to my favorite song.

Working, Writing...

This was very nearly to be my last blog post.

Then I received an incredible letter from one Christopher Robison, and I've decided that what I can do to keep up with those of you who show me such good love (aside from letter-writing back to you), is keep up this blog in as faithful and entertaining a manner as possible.

I am going to say this: writing a good post takes me a long time. So, in the next months, as my schedule changes slightly at work, I hope to balance the quality and quantity of the writing.

Erich and I talked, and I am going to apply to renew my grant so that I can stay in Turkey another year and work on exam-writing and planning a conference in Bolu for the fall. I love it here, and I love the work that I get to do, and Erich loves me so generously that he can appreciate how much the work and language-learning mean to me.

We had an incredible time during his visit here. That said, we were so busy traveling and having adventures that I didn't take the time to train for running a half marathon. I am going to contact the race organization to have my registration changed to the 10km, which is a run I know I can do already. So I'll be in Antalya the weekend of that race, but I'm going to take it easy instead of punish myself.

I hope all of you have a lovely Valentine's Day, and I hope you know that I am thinking of you!

Erich is here! (And has been, for almost a week!)

Yep! I could hardly believe it myself.

And what with my new haircut, the man barely recognized me at the airport.

On the ferry between Kadikoy and Kabatas in Istanbul.

Safranbolu.

But he's here now, seeing some of what my life has looked like these past few months!

So! You  may not hear much over the next few weeks, but I'm sure he'll come home with stories of tasty food, good long walks, and making friends with blacksmiths in Safranbolu.

You Didn't Peak in College (or High School) Unless You Want for It To Be That Way.

"They were the best four years of my life!"

Somebody told me this about high school, some other body later told me this about college, and even later a bunch of people like these two (or more) tried to impress upon me the difference between places like high school and college and the real world. You're out in the real world now, kid: hold onto your memories of the Glory Days, and watch out for piranhas.

Sure, sometimes I miss the trust I had in the world before I hit twenty-one. But I don't miss having a curfew or getting caught (by my brother!) sneaking out of my parents' house! Those certainly weren't the best four years of my life. Not that they weren't great: some of my best friends come from that time in my life.

And shoot, the metabolism of a fifteen-year-old isn't something to scoff at. But I'm going to be running a half marathon in seven weeks, and at twenty-eight I'll be in the best shape of my life to date.

It's nice not to pay bills, but it's more satisfying when you can be self-sufficient.

Really, what they're saying when they say, "they were the best four years of my life!" is "I'd like to go back to being irresponsible and selfish." Because it's true: at few other times in your life (and here I'm just looking at norms) are you

• un-tethered enough to be totally self-involved (no kids or grandkids, no partner, possibly no full-time job to be on time to, or community to be accountable to)
• yet old enough to realize how luxurious it is to be so self-involved. But we don't live on luxury.

You only peaked in high school or college if you plan to do nothing more satisfying with your life than be self-involved. But I hear that finding work, a community, or a hobby you love; being independent enough to pay bills; or, if you don't want to pay bills or taxes, being a dumpster diver; even having kids to love unconditionally can be satisfying pursuits. Satisfying in ways different from self-involvement.

So, may my Glory Days be those from now until I expire.

Who Doesn't Want To Live By The Ocean?

Do you know anyone who, if ze had the means and choice, wouldn't want to live by the ocean? Or sea?

If your life could remain mostly the same but for geography-- even your job and loved ones would re-locate near to you-- of course you would live near the sea. This isn't a question; it's the great secret of humanity.

We all want to live by the ocean.

We want a view of the ocean every morning and evening.

We want the option of walking to it when there's a little extra time in the day.

We want to stand near it to realize simultaneously that we are small and that we are significant. That our bodies are made up of this stuff and that our souls-- well, of something completely different. We want to be reminded that a steady rhythm lies under the beastly chaos that rushes up to our bodies.

We want to know a horizon.

Mountains are important, and so are deserts, and many other geographical formations-- but I am not willing to accept others' claims of bias here: it's objectively true that we'd all live near the sea.

Ask (or, I'm asking now). Find me someone for whom this is not the case.

Always, Mail Helps!

I am lucky to have such friends and family!

Thank you, loves in Walla Walla, Portland, and Seattle,

for keeping me in your minds and hearts.

You're in mine.

I'm going to get everyone with the finger-trap.

A Letter from the Fourth Grade

Last week, thanks to Connie Fraser, Mom and Dad received a letter I'd written myself when I was ten: "I really don't agree with math."