April Fools Passes Without Incident

Last semester I had a rule – every day I had to have at least one English conversation that involved a real person. It’s probably a healthy rule to obey; I mandated it because when I studied in Rome and would go stretches without talking to anyone, I would get lonely. However, I’m better now because I’ve made a lot more imaginary friends.

Yesterday I broke my rule for the first time in Turkey, unless you count the high school students who kept asking me what kind of alcohol I liked (“Americans drink. You like drink? What you like drink?”). However, it was time well spent. Now that spring is upon us and the smoke from burning trash obscures the mountains in the distance, I’ve decided to spend more time in Van, because if it’s this polluted here, how is it going to be in a touristy city?

Anyway, you know what they say: if life gives you lemons, say, “I’m not paying for these lemons.” And if life doesn’t respond, quietly tuck the lemons into an inside jacket pocket and walk out of the store.

I’ve spent most of my free time this weekend finishing the a season of Alias that I bought when I was home. The neighborhood Blockbuster was going out of business, so I got the first three seasons. It’s quite spectacular, actually – it really surprised me, as I knew nothing about it – but now that I’m on the third season (after a marathon session on Saturday – I also wrote an email to my mom on that day), it’s kind of a disappointment, a) because my two favorite characters have been unceremoniously written out, and b) because there is no discernible villain. And c) because I’ve run out of kiwis and I’m too lazy to go to the city center to get more.

This afternoon, while taking an Alias break (my computer got so hot that it couldn’t recognize the DVD I put in) I packed one of my two suitcases. I’ll be handing it off to a friend who’s visiting Izmir next weekend. He’ll take it home for me and also bring me peanut butter. In the suitcase I put all my winter clothes, as well as all my dress shirts and ties because, although I was told they were mandatory, I still haven’t worn them. And I also counted the weeks I have left – 8. That means 16 more conversation topics. If you have any ideas, feel free to suggest, because at this point I’m out.

Advertisements

November 1st

Stick Stickly said once that if the first words out of your mouth on the first of the month were, “Rabbit Rabbit,” you would have good luck. Stick Stickly was also a tongue depressant which googlie eyes Elmer’s glued on, so I’m not sure why I gave him such credence. Maybe because he reminded me of popsicles, and at eleven, popsicles are the reason you dream about a shopping spree in a grocery store.

I have never managed to say this. Every first of the month I fail, saying all sorts of things, from, “What time is it?” to “Where is the captain?” and “Never again!” On probability alone, given all the first of the months between the age of eleven and twenty one, I think I should have said it by now, even if I didn’t mean to. I mean, I’ve said, “Who are you?” multiple times.
Last night I said it walking home from Common Grounds after midnight. I don’t believe it worked. It makes since that you would have to say it as you woke up to the new month; also, with all the evil spirits, called Trevor, roaming around between midnight and midnight fifteen, it’s logical to assume they intercepted my appeal to the benevolent spirits, called Master Friend, for good luck. This all comes from a belief system called Solar Inferno I invented when I was eleven to account for the existence of Stick Stickly and all the other puppets on Nick in the Afternoon, among other things.
Also, it could be that it was Daylight Savings Time, and what I thought was after midnight was only after eleven. All the clocks were set back (and I was still late to church). However, after some intensive internet research, I’ve found a hypothesis that if you say, “Tabbir, Tabbir” before falling asleep on the first of the month, you will secure yourself good fortune. O Master Friend, hear my prayer.