Erie thoughts

My desk has a sterile and cold feel to it. It’s not made of wood that is of a smooth grain and varnished to a comforting, almost glass-like sheen; it’s steel and hard, thin and sharp around the edges. When I grab a drawer I feel a stinging pressure, as the metal creases into my skin. My work place is nothing but a cheap, imitation top that is “plasticky” and swings between phases of cold restrictedness where papers slide as if they’re on ice, to sticky, full-blooded warmth that makes one feel stuffy and uncomfortable like after a humid rain that makes hands ‘clamy.’

My hands on the first day of work were perpetually cold, which made me conscious around the big, robust black women with large smiles, thick lips and white teeth. They all seemed so full of breast-driven womanliness and human passion, that it seemed their veins were as thick as a concrete tunnels traversing their way though the belly of a stubborn mountain. And here I am with my thin, restricted blue-like veins of seedy, white-man coldness being placed into their fatty palms. “Hi, I’m Jeremy. I’ll be working in the place of Brooke.” I said. “I’m open to talk, so come in and ask me a question when you want.” Ha! Like that will happen; I’m sure the entire time I had their hand gripped, they were wondering about whether my miniscule heart was pumping enough blood to my freezing-cold finger tips. What life could I bring into such a vibrant place with a heart beat (literally) not strong enough to get my phalanges ‘veiny’ and hot.

I don’t know Erie well. The preposterous amount of stop lights pisses me off as I am continually being impeded on my way to work. Drive five feet. Stop. Breathe in exhaust. Trucks are larger than Corollas. Listen to the blast of the combustion of the engine as they speed away. “Aha, five minutes closer to work!” I think to myself. Stop. Red light. A change is now proceeding in cascade-like formation towards the horizons, as freedom-loving greens change to frustrating-as-hell reds. Will I ever make it to work!?

Jamie grew up outside the city, so she doesn’t seem to have a good handle on where 12th street lines up with Buffalo, and where Fairview intersects with the Bayfront. What’s on 6th and 8th, you say? A bar? A Dollar General? A Health Clinic, behind a bus stop, where derelicts and obese people congregate and mix genes? What about Upper Peach? No. I’m on East 19th, but my apartment is on East 2nd. No, not west, EAST! You’re thinking of 6th and where it crosses over with 10th. I went down to the diner today on 24th and 12th, but it was on the WEST side of town. Where are you talking about? Oh, YOU DON’T KNOW THE GOD DAMN NUMBERS!?


When I cross the traffic bridge and drive past the dilapidated Erie Mill Co. and ‘round the bend across from the Orthodox Church, I plunge myself into a world of black men on bikes with rusted chains, and houses with big-wheel strewn front yards. Where are these men going? I’m sure none of them want jobs. Why don’t they clean their gutters, and ‘spray wash’ the grime from the peak of the house, where the siding meets the lip of the roof? Maybe they’re immigrants? Essentially, these people are on the wrong side of the tracks. They’re on the East Side—the bad side—"the black side." I don’t know Erie aside from the wilds around G.E., and the neatly-trimmed public houses of John Moran. After all, it’s about people sir, not I.

Each morning I hear languages ringing in my ears—some buzz, while others clang and are sharp. Some mumble and are spoken on tones and rhythms. While my own, my own language, has found new ways to amaze me in its ability to confound my ear. How is it that the English language can continually change and encompass the culture of those who speak it? Too many times I hear people claim they are ‘their language’, but the bastardized, beautiful, warped, dirtied, laughed-at and exquisite tool that is ‘English’, is not its people; its people make it: Each utterance, roll of the tongue, slur of an accent, and disregard for grammar is awash in humanity and in personality. ‘Wat’cha want? I been had that done, is jus’ you is like me.”

Sorry I didn't write sooner

So I haven’t posted since the English Camp…I’m sorry. There are a many changes happening in our lives and I haven’t forgot about all the people who check our blog to see what’s going on in our lives, I just haven’t sat down and written anything.

It a little weird to think that we have only been back in Pennsylvania for thirty-eight days (somehow it seems longer….). Upon returning we were bombarded with paperwork and trainings for a new Americorps VISTA positions, therefore everything else has been squeezed in around our job preparation. However we have done A LOT of stuff. We got to spend a week with Jeremy’s parents in their new home in Tennessee, which was great. We got to see our good friend from camp get married (Bunny looked SO cute!). We went camping with a bunch of our Beaver County friends. We bought our first bed and we have an apartment what we will be moving into on the 6th. For the time being we have been living with my parents, who have been patient with our stuff sitting in the living room and the different habits we have formed (such as only using one glass during the day and leaving it sit next to the sink rather than putting it in the dishwasher and getting a new one every time.), however there are some habits that have been harder, such as making sure the toilet lid is put down after we go to the bathroom. As much as I appreciate all that my parents have done for use since we have moved in with them - feeding us, letting us wash our cloths, giving us a place to store all our stuff – I am really looking forward to moving into our apartment and having our own space and also being much closer to where we both work.

One thing that has been really challenging is balancing the amount of Czech language in our lives. Jeremy is of course tries to speak as much as he can, write in his Czech journal, listen to Czech radio programs online and read a Czech newspaper online, where I am much lazier and only want to speak for an hour a day. I think this also has to do with our level of the language, as Jeremy is at a MUCH higher level than I am (do to my frustrations and laziness with the language while living in Policka), so he can do more with it. But I’m happy that he continues to write to our friends and set up Skype dates, because I get to communicate with them as well.

This weekend we’ll be going down to Waynesburg, PA to see some friends and give a presentation about our last year in Policka at the church we attended in college. I have looked forward to seeing our Waynesburg friends since returning to Pennsylvania and I’m glad that we finally have a chance to see them.

Oh, and I finally got some more paint I can start painting again :)

Updates from America

I went into my new place of work two days ago and was shocked by the lack of organization that I saw: papers were strewn about the place in stacks as if they were building obelisks; each room seemed to have a purpose that it could be serving, but was currently preoccupied as 'storage'; the computer lab has about 15 'portable' laptops that could be used by the children if they were able to actually take them home, which is greatly inhibited by the fact that almost all of the power cords are missing; and my boss didn't seem to have the time of day to speak with me for more than five minutes. It was, to put it lightly, a very discouraging experience. But, I guess I can't judge it too harshly; people there seemed to be pretty underwhelmed by myself: when I walked in the door the manager's first words were, "Well, I'd expected you to be a bit taller." And when I was introduced to the children who are in the program, all of them took a disinterested/disappointed glance my way and wistfully, almost sad fully, mumbled, 'HE is the one who is going to be here next year?" Yeah, awesome start....


After two weeks of being back in America, I can honestly say that the party has ended: we're both currently living out of Jamie's house and all of our possessions are haphazardly stacked in their living room, pressing into the carpet and spilling onto the couch. I can't find any of my possessions both from the Czech Republic and years previous, and my back is beginning to twitch because the mattress-on-the-floor comfort is just not kicking it anymore. I feel stranded by the fact that I can't walk where I want and when I want, and I'm really sad that I can't leave my peanut butter toast plate on the counter, so I don't have to continually waste water washing it repeatedly when I know that in just another two hours I'm gonna grab for the JIF again. Ugh....the pains of in-law living....


On a brighter note, Jamie and I took a jaunt over to our apartment today (well, our apartment as of August 28th...I hope), and I found it to be really refreshing to know that in less than four weeks I'll be calling that old, clapboard house home. It's wonderfully situated less than a block away from three institutions in my life: the library, the church, and the bar (it's a slight joke ;) ). I plan on regularly making my way to them. We're located about three city blocks up from the bay of Lake Erie, which means we're also in walking distance of a park with benches that over look the steely-gray waters. One night, I'm sure Jamie and I will talk about the future while watching the lights of yachts and sail boats float quietly by. I look forward to that.

This weekend Jamie and I have planned a camping trip in the Allegheny National Forest with about nine of friends coming to partake in the campfires, hiking and fishing that is to be had. I've never really spent anytime near the national forest, so I'm anticipating the hikes through some of the world's richest and densest black-cherry wood forest, and seeing the twisted hulks of contorted oaks left over from the tornadoes of 1985. Pennsylvania, I'm home!