Sometimes riding the bus in the morning is almost more than I can take. The public transport system is really Public. Sometimes its just way too much to cram into a tiny little bus with some man in front of me with his arm in my face and some fat woman leaning heavily against from behind, with her plastic bags scraping against my leg. It was really odd to stand there in the bus this morning and feel the tiny little rip starting in my chest somewhere and holding it, holding it, like some physical tear. Buttons popping off. Odd to be so very near to utter panic and yet so calmly rational about it all.

Spring spring spring spring. Spring.

There are two other American kids here, on a different program and so we don't have classes with them, but they study on our kafedra, and I just ran into one of them on the street. He's just an utter utter mess of a person. He's been robbed 4 times, had a gun pulled on him twice, been beaten up at least 4 times, had his nose broken once, and he gets drunk every day.

Glad to know that there's such a shining example of America running around Voronezh. One of the russian girls in my folklore class mentioned something about running into them in spartak, and I forbid her to meet with them anymore.

My head is jumping about today.