Vika

Art In Progress
Vika, from City of Thieves

Let the book blogging resume with: City Of Thieves!

I bought this book a few years ago when my neighborhood Borders Bookstore (r.i.p.) was closing.  Back then, I was working at my first post graduate job and rarely bought books because $15 was too hefty for me.  When I found out that Border was parting with all their books for like $3 EACH, boy did I haul on over!! And now a bunch of these poor suckers are sitting in my TBR pile.

Kept the Borders sticker on for feels :'(

The premise of the book also the $3 price made me snatch this one off the almost barren shelf: looter Lev Beniov is arrested and isolated in a cell with "handsome deserter" Kolya.  Really? "Handsome"?  Actually, his handsomeness/charm becomes super significant.  Lev is convinced that they're going to be executed, except the Soviet colonel in charge gives them a crazy impossible mission in the dead of winter, in a very starved Russia: obtain a dozen eggs for his daughter's wedding cake.  Or DIE.

I expected the book to start off with Lev's dilemma, but it surprisingly starts off with the author's perspective, and it is revealed that Lev is his grandfather and David is asking him about the War.  The first thing you notice about "grandfather Lev" is his missing left index finger, so spoilers right there.  Lev most likely accomplishes his mission (maybe?) but at great cost.

Loving the book so far!  The setting is grim, but Kolya (whose handsomeness is described in great detail) is indeed very charming when he's not obsessing over his lack of bowel movements and has great chemistry with Lev.  He's exactly what Lev isn't: tall, aryan, fit, extroverted, confident, a scholar; as opposed to Lev, who is scrawny, clearly Jewish, introverted, socially awkward and the timid son of a famous (most likely executed) poet.  Yet it's their shared passion for literature and common mission/doom that chains them together.

"You're spitting on me"

"Well, you deserved to be spat on."

I continued walking south and Kolya, irritated as he was, soon fell into stride.  Fate had shoved us together, that seemed beyond argument.  Until Thursday, we were married.

To be continued...

My Favorite Things - In Photos

If you've been following my blog at all, you've probably guessed that I've been emotionally going through a very rough patch.  From my smiles in class, down the street, and during meetings, even on Facebook, you'd think I was a chipper person.  The facade eventually cracked, crumbling and leaving behind messy debris that I personally felt like no one was around to help me sweep up.

Scratch that, it's not that people weren't around... I just didn't ask for help.

I think I've "snapped out of it", but don't feel like I've quite addressed the source.  I'm still not ready.

For now, I'll focus on Julie Andrews and her radiant voice:

Here are some of my favorite things to remind me that life has been good to me this year:

Wandering through Jerusalem's ancient courtyards, enjoying the warm middle eastern breeze, and admiring the Judas trees (I kid you not, that's what they're called)

Celebrating diversity through colors at this year's Holi festival

Making (and eating) macarons

  

There.  I feel a bit better now... back on track and back to book blogging!

Convergence

I didn't think I'd ever understand my mom.  

Her "depression" bewildered me.
Her "pseudo-maladies" annoyed me.
Her penchant for copious amounts of sleep angered me.

She would lay in bed for days on end, hair unwashed, empty eyes wet with tears, dry streaks of tears crusting on her cheeks.

"What do you have to cry for?!  We have a roof over heads, food on the table, money in the bank!  What could you possibly be so sad about?!"

It would piss me off, seeing her in bed while the rest of us went to work/school, cooked dinner, ate in silence, washed the dishes, and tried to take care of the chores the best we could.  The bills from her emergency hospitalization and therapy piled and creditors were calling day and night - and no one was there to heal our wounds from what she tried to do that night.  We worked hard to pay off the debt, tried to financially close the gap to forget the consequences of her selfish intentions for that night.

The whole situation left me bitter and angry over her selfishness.

"Get out of bed!  What is your problem?!  You can't check out like this!"

I willed myself to work long hours and late nights to earn a living, but I no longer lived.  I willed myself to work even harder so I can have a better life.  I worked to have a part time job. A scholarship. A roof over my head. Food on the table.

But now the dirty dishes are in the sink, unwashed.  Untouched food rotting in the fridge.  Clothes and books in a messy heap on the floor.  My hair and streaky face matted to the pillow.  I barely left the apartment in 3 days and spent the majority of them in bed.  I am numb and empty one moment, and scared out of my mind the next.

For I have become my mother.

100 Themes Challenge #19: Gray

speed paint, pen sketch

I love rainy days.  The louder the thunder, the better... in fact, I fall asleep soundly when I hear the beginning rumbles of a thunderstorm!

While I love running around and jumping on puddles during a rainstorm, what I hate about the rain is the aftermath.  I hate the worms that escape from the grass and squiggle around on the sidewalk.  When I was in 2nd grade, I accidentally stepped on one when I was on my way to school and bawled my eyes out.  My dad, who was walking me to school, gently picked me up and carried me for the remaining four blocks.

It rained like crazy again today.  It's almost 20 years later and I am still tiptoeing around the worms.  It took me 20 minutes just to walk the short distance to my apartment.  I called my dad as soon as I got home, told him about the worms and only heard laughter on the other side.

The rest of the themes can be found here.

Harboring a grudge for typos

Find the typo - seriously hoped that my eyes were playing an April Fool's joke on me but now my OCD won't let me finish my Strategy Class reading!

The Badlands

The gritty rock formations were time-worn, striped with iron and copper rust age lines.  Ancient plateaus wrinkled with erosion, all underneath a tranquil all-seeing sky.  It was such a peaceful experience, being so high up that the only things I heard were the light crunch of dirt underneath my boots and a whisper of wind whistling through the valleys. (the badlands, South Dakota, 3/1/13)