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December 26th, 2013
04:27 pm
No longer public. Add if you're curious.
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December 15th, 2013
09:35 pm
Rita's Story, by Aaron Morris.
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Hi, I'm Rita and I'm Hungarian.
This is my story.
Growing up on a farm was hard. There was only one cooking pot in my whole village. So you had to wait a really long time to eat.
Plus the pot was made of wood, so it was practically useless as a cooking device.
I grew up on a diet of mostly my own hair and bowls of cold tears.
Then I moved to America, the land of opportunity.
I didn't have to eat my hair anymore.
My family could own more than one cow. And these cows knew how to get home at the end of the day.
Back in Hungary, our one cow had no sense of direction.
Her name was Zirwckrgstn, which is the Hungarian word for "moves with the grace of a drunken serf".
Anyway, when I got to America I noticed many differences between my former culture and my new one. Perhaps this is the genesis of my interest in sociology.
For instance, in America many people would regard "Zoltan" as a poor choice of names for their newborn son.
In Hungary, it is required that you name your first born son Zoltan.
If your first born is a daughter, you are required to stand in the village square while the townspeople throw beets at you.
But you don't get to keep the beets afterwards.
I feel fortunate to now live in a land where I can keep any beets that are thrown at me.
Which is often.
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Current Mood:  chipper
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September 5th, 2005
12:10 am
We'rrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeee Baaaaaaaaack.
Reunited and it feels so goooooood.
Boston, get ready.
Current Mood:  accomplished
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