She Wants The Z

I have to quit saying that I’m tired. I say that phrase on a daily basis. It gets to the point that it honestly doesn’t have any meaning. I usually am actually tired. I don’t get the qualified amount of sleep hours. Personally, ten hours would be perfect, but I can get by with five hours without looking like a total zombie. My sleeping habits are awful. I watch TV since I had a TV installed directly on the wall across from my bed. We have charter spectrum. My thumb hits the green ON DEMAND button and I’m gone. Lately, I’ve been watching feel good movies. I am a sucker for the ones with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. HBO family was featuring You’ve Got Mail at 1 a.m. one time. And of course the commercials seem to last longer than the actual segments of the movie. Stayed up until 3 a.m. on a school night, absorbing the movie that I have seen countless of times. Makes sense. I usually die a little after one in the morning. Then become alive with the light of my screen beaming on me interrupting my short blackout. I shuffle through my sheets to find the remote wanting to shut off the factor of my disappointing REM sleep. 

I also stay up doing all this school work that I should have done during the day when I have free time. But instead, I spend time watching episodes of the office on Netflix, because of course that is the real pathway to success. The thing is, I don’t have my own set of workers that can forge my homework. So my homework has to get done at some point, and that is usually at around eleven at night. What’s really unfortunate is I can’t remember the last time I went to bed before ten. I know I don’t get to sleep in. I wake up at six every morning during the weekdays. My family likes to have breakfast in the morning, together. Every single morning. I make sure to brew the coffee. Don’t expect me to function if I do not have coffee in my system. I will slowly shut down. So saying that I am tired all the time needs to stop. That means I gotta lay off the television before I go to bed and figure out my schoolwork schedule. Will this happen? Not probable. But it is a goal that has been on mind for quite some time. 

Unraveling the Inner D.O.

Going into college I have had one focus for my profession. I aspire to become a physician. Currently working on achieving my associates in science and will then move on from there. I have dreamed of working in the medical field for a while now. I remember for career day in grade school, I wore my mother’s white lab jacket, which encrypted the words “grey’s anatomy” on the front pocket. I was boss.

I once wrote a paper for an essay contest on why I want to be a physician in my county. The paper included how I wanted to make a difference in the community. I would like to better the health of individuals with my knowledge and expertise. The goal of any physician, hopefully. I specifically would like to become a D.O. (doctor of osteopathic medicine). My family has three generations of earning a degree in Osteopathic medicine. Osteopathic medicine involves a hands on approach of looking at the patient, not just observing a set of percentages or a pathology report. D.O.’s will talk one on one with a patient and will consider the structure of the body a major factor in what may be causing an injury or illness (hence “osteo” meaning for bone).

This small town called Kirksville is located in Missouri, where osteopathic medicine was founded in the late 1800’s. Kirksville is an extremely small town. My family used to travel to Kirksville to visit my nana. The only things that kept us kids intrigued were fishing, eating nana’s cookies, and well that’s about it. Kirksville is such a small town that going to Walmart was a high light. We used to drive by the first institution of Osteopathy when we visited. This is the building where my great grandfather, my grandfather, and my mother all earned their degrees in Osteopathy. How cool would it be if earned this degree, setting a four generation achievement?!

Osteopathic medicine is a major degree which can branch out into all sort of medical fields. I am not exactly sure what specific field I would go into… People always ask me if I am going to take over my mother’s practice, which is dermatology. Of course I have considered this option. The thing is I don’t want to have a narrow focus. I want to keep my options open, because what if I fall in love with a different specialty? There is a process called rotations, where a medical student has the opportunity to practice all sorts of medical fields. I hope I know my calling by then. I hope I make it that far.

AT Still University- Kirksville, MO

Electric Pigments

For my English course, we spent one class participating in the human library. The human library is an event that consists of stations where you meet people who have dealt with some sort of thing in their life. This is very general, but only because this certain thing could be something like being a community organizer to recovering from a deadly car accident. I listened to several stories from my chosen stations. One particular person caught my attention. I met the tattooed professor. 85% of this man’s body is covered with designs, each one meaning something special to him. From my observation, I saw that he had procedures done on his knuckles, arms, neck, and back of the head. I couldn’t get a good look at all of the visible tattoos, but on one arm he had this abstract design. It looks like one section was overlapping the other. I thought the design was cool. I asked him how much money he has spent on all of the procedures. He replied a ball park of $25,000. Quite the investment… It then hit me that this man is extremely passionate about this particular art form. One thing comes to mind immediately about tattoos, pain. Having a needle inject your skin isn’t the most luxurious feeling. He said some were painful, most were not. One time, he had fallen asleep when going under the needle. How is that even possible! It’s as if his body became immune to getting tattoos. I envy his pain tolerance.

 Most first impressions of a person with that numerous permanent designs is one thing. Bad ass. He also wore ear gauges, so that adds to the assumption. When getting to know him, my assumption lead further and further away from the original. His profession is an economics professor. He said that most people want to take his class because they think he is a cool, laid back kind of guy. In reality, he considers his course to be one of the hardest courses that is offered where he teaches. Another fact sadly surprised me. This man had worked at another place for several years. He had gotten more and more tattoos that were visible. His work place changed their description for the job and had fired him. They fired him because of his tattoos. This was bothersome because his credentials were more than qualified for the job. I guess tattoos come with a price, not only does it hurt, for most people at least. It also has a discriminatory factor. This man is normal like everyone else, he was easy to talk to. He wore a nice suit and tie and was a genuinely pleasant person to get to know. It is too bad that appearances have such a heavy impact in society. I wish I wouldn’t have made assumptions when sitting at his station. He wasn’t this bad ass guy holding an impressive backstory. He is a man teaching economics for college students; enjoying life with just a bit more color. 

Roughin' It in the Grand Canyon

I think anyone who has graduated high school should be really proud of themselves. It is a big accomplishment. My goal was to finish strong. Ever since I was a kid, my mother said that if you keep your grades up, you can choose anywhere in the United States to travel to after you finish high school. If anyone knows my mother, she keeps her word. So of course I kept up my grades, for the most part. Taking AP classes my senior year was probably not the best decision I have ever made. If I were to do it over again, I would have enjoyed my last year without the overload of my school work. But I pulled myself together and graduated with a pretty decent GPA.

So before my graduation, my mother presented me two options:

1) Throw a big grad party  

2) Plan a trip anywhere in the U.S.

I am no fool. I chose to travel. Duh. So we researched some of my desired destinations, but both decided that the Grand Canyon was the place to go. I had never been to the Grand Canyon and wanted to do something active. We booked a hot air balloon ride for the first day. It wasn’t as scary as I imagined it would be. It was very peaceful, and of course the view was incredible. Then for the next three days, we would be hiking the Grand Canyon with the AOA tour group. The trip included camping near the Havasupai Village at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, the oldest Native American civilization located in the US. Neat right?

The first day of hiking, our tour guide told us that the level of hiking wouldn’t be too extraneous. My definition of extraneous was on a different level than his. I seriously was not expecting the difficultly of the hike. My mother and I did not train for the hiking, which was a poor choice. I don’t know what we were thinking when we signed up for the tour. I was feeling it within the first twenty minutes and that was only going downhill. The scorching sun also felt really great when we had to hike for ten miles out in the open. If we didn’t stay hydrated, we would have died. There is no question about it. We were really happy to reach our campsite at the end of the first day.

There was one slight problem for my mother and me though. Our bags had been kept in the trailer... at the top of the freaking Grand Canyon! Our bags that contained all our clothes, toothbrush, socks, etc. We had none of it. All I can say is that we got a true camping experience. In all of our pictures, we are in the same disgusting clothing. We visited three waterfalls and got to go in the water, which was refreshing for our consecutive three day filth. I jumped off this one waterfall, which was exhilarating. The cliff was slippery and I almost decided not to jump off. I was really proud of myself for taking a leap of faith, literally.

The last day, there was an option to be taken up to the top via helicopter. My mom told me I could either take the helicopter or hike to the top. Although the helicopter would have been cool, I wanted to hike. I wanted to be able to say that I hiked to top of the Grand Canyon. Also we got to go at our own pace, which meant we could take as many pictures and rest stops as we pleased. We were really happy to see our bags once we reached the top, but by then it didn’t really matter. I was just happy to have had an adventure with my mom, celebrating my graduation. 

Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 4

The sky is the limit. Reach for the stars. The world is your oyster. Sound familiar? Well I’ve got a fat challenge for these expressions. Let’s change the Russian Government.

I am dead serious. Let’s just do it. Now the corrupted government might not get fixed entirely by me. I could try, because I’ve have been taught that “can’t” is not a word. This is the overly optimistic ego speaking. We should all have one. My core focus on making a universal difference is based on reversing the ban on adoption from foreign countries in Russia. Let’s look at the facts. In 2012, the U.S. Congress passed the Magnistky Act, which is basically a bill that proclaimed the corruption of Russian officials. The ban was a response to this Act. This law that banned this once beautiful opportunity is known as the Dima Yakovelv Law, passed by Vladimir Putin in 2013. Dima was an adopted child by an American family. His parents left him in car at a parking lot. He had tragically died in the car in 2008, only after three months of living in America. Another tragic case spiked attention in Russia. A child had been brought to America. The mother decided to send him back to Russia. The child was sent on an airplane all on his own. Devastating.

There is no justification for the actions of these irresponsible parents. Zero. But how about we look at the effects of this ban. Nearly two dozen children in Russian orphanages were denied the right to be brought to America after families had made legal plans to do so. An estimation of 200-250 children had actually met with American families, created a connection, but then were not given the right to go through the adoption process. There was a case where a family had adopted a boy previously to the ban, and had hoped to adopt his brother. The ban revoked the family’s plan and now the boy is without his biological brother. This is absolutely heartbreaking. The boy had anticipated his brother coming home, and now the parents have to explain to the child that it is impossible.

Before the ban, about 60,000 children had been adopted by American families from the past twenty years. Three of those children happen to live in my household. My older brother Demetrios had been adopted a year before me. In Russia, we lived in the same orphanage, located in Krasnodar, Russia. Demetrios and I were best friends at the orphanage. When he had been adopted, he had missed me terribly. He would cry “Anya” to his mother in America. She did everything she could to find out who Anya was. I was the girl of my mother’s aspiration. I had reunited with my best friend a year later at the age of five. My best friend became my brother. In 2005, we adopted a four year old boy named Illushka or for short Illiya. He had been located at a different orphanage in Siberia, Russia. I have so much gratitude for my privilege to live in America with a loving and supportive family. The common good out ways the cases of the shameful tragedies. I am not sure how exactly I can change this law, but I think the first step is awareness. My heart aches for the families and children that could be united in a safe and loving home. 

(Demetri and I on our way to land in America)

(Demetri and I leaving the orphange)

(We greet Illiya at the airport) 

sources:
http://www.csmonitor.com/The-Culture/2014/0118/Russian-adoption-ban-One-year-
later http://www.huffingtonpost.com/shai-baitel/russias-adoption-ban-two_b_6399064.html
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/worldviews/wp/2012/12/28/the-real-reason-russia-wants-to-ban-adoptions-by-dangerous-american-families/

Elevated Window Of Opportunities

The love to traveling was set in stone for me at young age. I was five years old.

Departure: Krasnodar, Russia. Arrival: Michigan, USA.

I remember sitting with my Baboushka on the airplane on the way to America. I can see myself sitting next to the window. She sat to my right. A hockey game was playing on the small screen above. I can picture my Baboushka wearing headphones, trying to tell me to pick up mine and put them on. I looked up at the screen and then saw a man in a uniform with skates make a goal. I don’t know why my brain decided to remember this memory for the rest of my life. It is such a small moment. I didn’t even know how to speak English, and yet I knew exactly what she was trying to tell me. My mom only remembers me throwing up the food they had served me on the plane. Lucky her. 

(My older brother  has had to put up with me for a long time)

My mother has included me and my brother in trips all over the world. Costa Rica. Galápagos Islands. A trip from the needle point in Seattle to the Redwoods in Cali. Some of these trips were guided by National Geographic Expeditions. I have been one lucky girl. The best time I had was zip lining in the rain forest of Costa Rica. I will never forget how close I had gotten to a tree, thinking I was going to crash right into it. My family tries to plan an annual trip, usually around the winter time. So for winter break, I have gone to the Bahamas, Cayman Islands, and of course cannot forget to mention Disney World.

   

 (us kids behaving well, anticipating a fun vacation)    

(little brother playing in the sand while I gear up, Cayman Islands)

(myself, brother, and cousins having a blast in Islas Mujeres)  

(riding horseback along the Coast Rica shorelines)

Growing up with the opportunity of physically discovering the world, I aspire to keep the hobby last. As a college student, I want to study abroad. My dream destination is Barcelona, Spain. I have studied Spanish all four years of high school and am currently enrolled in a Spanish course. Three months of learning Spanish culture would be such an opportunity. My previous trips have more like vacations, but getting to live in Spain independently with cultural people is a different story. I also want to travel to Machu Picchu once in my life, and also bring my mother along. Her dream has been to go there ever since she was in grade school. I want take her to Machu Picchu. I am grateful for all the trips I have experienced, so I’d like to do the same for her one day.

 

 (posing in the Redwood National and State Parks)

(up close and personal in the Galápagos Islands) 

Talking to the Moon

Okay, this is where I am currently figuring myself out. I am a hopeless romantic. I believe in soul mates. I believe in the stars aligning. I believe in all that mumbo jumbo. But here is my present goal dealing with my love status: stop looking for the one. I think the problem with having a person be “the one” is the expectations I place for this perfect trophy guy. Has to be taller than me. Has to be funny. Has to have brown hair with blue eyes. Charming. Intelligent. Genuine smile. Not lazy, but also not overly active. Mysterious. Passionate about music. The list goes on. I raise my expectations to such a high standard that it is impossible to ever have a guy be the one. But it’s not entirely my fault (I like to think this, so let me). In high school, there was this boy. I thought about him none stop. Butterflies, uncontrollable smirks, you name it. I had them. I thought this guy was so charming and funny. Anyways, I got to know him, but then he became the boy that got away. Touchy subject so I will not go into detail. I resent myself for being so picky with every guy that has comes my way. I am so unbelievably hooked on a certain type because of this boy. I blame him.

Okay that’s not fair. I don’t actually blame him. I blame those deceptive Nicholas Sparks books/movies. Media ruins everything. It cements all these qualities that women need to look for in a guy. Men don't have a chance. I have gotten to the point where I give up. And you know what, I think it’s a good thing. I shouldn’t be caught up in boy drama. I should focus on my studies and my friends. I don’t need a guy in my life at this moment. But I can’t help to hope for a happily ever after. I want to find a person that brings out the best of me. A family is definitely in my wishes. The thing is, I don’t want to keep searching for the right one. God has a plan for my life and I need to trust Him. It won’t mean I’ll sit back and expect someone to miraculously appear. I won’t be afraid to take chances.  I have mentally shredded the list and have made a self-pact to be accepting of fate taking its course.