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frozen things.

I can't believe I forgot about this quirk. I think you'll understand why I decided to post it...it might even deserve the lone post. You be the judge.

7. A few times this week I've had the pleasure of getting to go to a Mongolian bathroom. If you're confused about what this means, see picture:



That is an outhouse. It is below freezing in Mongolia every day. People use out houses for tinkling and pooping. Imagine this: mounds of frozen poop.

Comments

  1. Aaah, but frozen mounds of poop are better than 100 degree day stinking mounds of poop. Think about it and you might just agree.

    ReplyDelete
  2. whoever you are, anonymous, i totally agree. i wasn't complaining about the poop...marveling at it really.

    ReplyDelete
  3. baaaahahaha! poop is my nephew's new favorite word and answer to any question. such a fun word.

    ReplyDelete

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An ode to my wiser self

I've been thinking about blogging a lot lately. Well, writing, rather. I used to write a lot. It was therapeutic and life giving for me. It helped me to be in a constant state of process where I was not just taking in life but searching for and digging for meaning. It kept me grounded and real, for lack of better word.

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Welcome to The Chronicles of a Confused Citizen.

Here I am, residing in the country I was born in, living the life I knew from my birth to year 22.

It doesn't quite feel right, though.

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bring it on, world.

October 26, 2011.

That is the day I last wrote a blog. That's not the day when my life changed but it is a day that I can recognize as one of the last ones when I knew who I was and what my purpose was.

I'm not generally a quitter. Sure, sometimes I quit on books or I quit on small projects but in life, nope. I  try hard at most things, usually right until the end. I won't say that quitting is not a thought that meanders through my being when something gets tough but I have come to learn that when I stick things out I come out having learned a thing or two.

But I did quit. I quit a big commitment. I said I would live in Washington, DC and I would do my best.

I tried. I also had my very first panic attack, too.

It was too much. I couldn't think or breathe. I couldn't cope with the devastation I felt for leaving Mongolia early that March morning. I couldn't cope with no one understanding what Mongolia had meant to me and how it had changed me right down to my bo…