breaking free

2009-03-16T02:12:00.001-04:00

Here are some pics of my students and house...enjoy!

2009-03-16T02:04:00.000-04:00

2009-03-16T01:34:00.001-04:00

2009-03-16T01:27:00.001-04:00

2009-03-15T23:57:00.004-04:00

2009-02-22T23:54:00.003-05:00

Valentine’s Day

They don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day in Turkmenistan, but since I enjoy the holiday I decided to teach all my lessons about this lovely holiday. We started out the class with a spelling bee and the winner got a pack of sweethearts and a butterfly tattoo Valentine’s Day card from America (compliments of my Mamaw). After that, I explained what Valentine’s Day was. Most of them knew, but there were a lot of giggles in the classroom when I told them it was a day of love. Then I told them that they were all going to make cards and I taught them the poem

Roses are red
Violets are blue
You’re the best Mom ever
And I love you.

Bägüller gyzyl
Fialki gök
Sen iň gowy Eje
We men seni söýýän

Since they’re younger (and you’re not supposed to date here) I told them they could write to their Mom or a friend. I pre-cut hearts out and passed out colored pencils. They loved it and even the boys were coloring their hearts out. I was so great. Some of the students even made their cards for me. It was so precious and I practically melted on the spot. I have some really great kids in my classes.
After my last class of the day, two of my advanced students and one of my beginner students surprised me. They made me a poster that said Happy Valentine’s Day Bobbie Jo. In smaller letters there were plenty of XOXO’s, Be my Valentine, and other sentiments. They put a ton of work into it and now it hangs in my bedroom. They also brought me cards, a cake and some Fanta and juice. I am so excited that I am working with such thoughtful students. This Valentine’s Day has been one of the best I’ve ever had.

New Years Pics

2009-02-02T01:00:00.003-05:00

Hey everyone. I'm going try to put up some more pics. The first two are from the carnival musicals. The third picture is my family minus my sister Dilnoza who is away studying. Zohre, Firuza, Me, Aziz, Saida, and Chary (they usually smile more). Chary is in traditional Turkmen dress. The fourth picture is my brother in law Aylik and my brother Aziz playing dutars. I hope you all had a fantastic New Years!

Happy New Year!

2009-01-04T04:27:00.003-05:00

New Years is one of the biggest holidays for the Turkmen people. These last few weeks I’ve been to many celebrations and even stumbled upon some amazing performances. The last week of school, before winter break, I decided to go exploring around my school. I heard some music and ended up finding a children’s musical going on. It was absolutely wonderful. The girls were all wearing white dresses and the boys in black suits. They sang many songs and entertained the crowd with dances. When I woke up that day, I had no idea of the treat that I was going to see. All of the families were there to watch their children and the parents even supplied food for all of the guests. This just further showed me the hospitality that the Turkmen people possess. This was not the only celebration I saw. My little sister Zohre took me to her school a few days later where the 9^th and 10^th graders put on a show themselves. They danced many different styles including traditional Turkmen and Uzbek, slow dancing, and hip hop. In between they held contests in which the winners received gifts from the winter queen and Ayez Baba (Santa Clause). Afterwards they held a dance with just as diverse music. One minute I was dancing to Turkmen music and the next, Usher’s, Yeah.

It was a holiday season full of firsts, but I enjoyed each new experience. I tried to post some pics but the internet wouldn't let me. I hope all of you had a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Bobbie Jo

My First Thanksgiving in Turkmenistan

2008-12-06T07:47:00.004-05:00

For Thanksgiving this year the Americans in my group decided to get together and have our own Thanksgiving dinner. It was absolutely delicious and a ton of fun. We ate way too much, sang many songs ranging from bon jovi to the eagles to outkast. After that, we headed out to the stadium for some soccer and ultimate frisbee. It wasn't quite the Fryman Family Thanksgiving with basketball, but it did make me feel at home. Overall, my first holiday here was a sucess. The first picture is my friend Nancy dancing with one of the host fathers, the next is bon jovi sing along time and the other two are just of dinner. I love you and miss you all! HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

New Pics

2008-11-29T00:00:00.003-05:00

Hey Everyone!!! Here are some more pics. These are the school children in T-stan. It is the standard uniform and everyone must wear it. The other picture is of my new room. It's not very roomy, but it has a great view. Well, maybe it's where the people who pick cotton take their break.

New Pics

2008-11-16T06:46:00.003-05:00

Hey Guys, I don't have much time, but here are some pics of T-stan. Hopefully more will come soon. I love you all! The spider/kid is my little brother Kerim. The next pic is with me and my first host fam (I get a new one in December). We're in normal clothes b/c we're going to Ashgabat. The third is the first camel I saw and the last pic is with me and my friend Nancy in our Koyneks. I have to wear dresses that long where I am, but soon, I'll be able to wear more western clothes in Lebap.

Exceptional

2007-02-12T01:53:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine asked me what I thought was exceptional. Tonight I went to Wal-Mart to pick up a few odds and ends that I needed for my room. I get to the cash register only to find that I do not have my credit card and therefore, no way to pay for my items. I start to leave, thoroughly irritated and embarrassed. I see Adam Brown. “Guess who lost their credit card?” So I tell Adam about my predicament and then head out to my car. I get to the car when he calls my phone and tells me that he’ll go ahead and pay for me and I can just pay him back later. Now, Adam and I are friends and we say hi to one another when we pass but we do not really hang out. I would not call him one of my best friends. Yet he still helped and turned around my entire night. I had had a long day, and that act of kindness put me in the best mood. That is what I deem exceptional. One human helping another. He did not have to help me and, if he had not, I wouldn’t have thought ant less of him. But he did anyway and that is what makes him and his deed exceptional. There needs to be more people in the world like Adam Brown.

I Just Don't Understand

2006-11-03T18:39:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I just don’t understand

What on earth causes people to do something completely out of character

Is it just arrogance

Do they believe that they are better than others

And can act however they please

I just need to get away

Away from the pettiness and self involvement

The negativity

Judgment

Thievery

Lies

Backstabbing

I need to get away from those who think they are outwitting me

When all along, I am just being the bigger person

By not pointing out their obvious deeds of deceitfulness

Sometimes I think we take each other for granted

We don’t realize how much we actually mean to each other

Until after we have said/done hurtful things

We are good at hiding it though

After days of stewing

Conversation will randomly start as if we had never done anything cruel to one another

I am scared that this will not always be the case

What if the day comes when the conversation is never restarted?

Fire Drills

2005-10-25T11:04:00.000-04:00

I used to love fire drills in elementary school. I can still remember the adrenaline that rushed through my veins when I heard the siren, the excitement of seeing that flashing little fire box, and, of course, the excuse of getting out of class to go outside. Now, fast-forward about ten years to present day.
I hate fire drills with a passion. At this very moment I could be snuggled up in my blankets, all warm and cozy, but no. Instead I am at the Library, after having been ruthlessly torn from my bed, and pushed out into the cold, cruel, weather. Now you may say that I’m being dramatic, but after, o say, a dozen fire drills (Normally ranging from midnight to 8 a.m.) in two months (no exaggeration) I think I have a right to hate fire drills. Often one drill will occur a mere hour after the previous one, right after I have fallen asleep again.
AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! That is the sound you will hear from a couple hundred girls after the fire alarm goes off. It’s not the “oh, I’m scared” scream, but “why the heck does this have to happen to me” scream. I must admit that I myself have participated in this new ritual more than once.
Well, I can no longer see the fire trucks outside of Knight so I wish you all a wonderful day as I go back and dream about the inexistence of fire drills.

Mad Cow Disease

2005-05-05T10:25:00.000-04:00

Everyone loves those cute little Chick-fil-A commercials. You know, the ones where the cows hold up signs that say Eat More Chikin. This paints a cute little image of cows. However, I am here to tell you that this could not be further from the truth.

Over Christmas Break I had my tonsils removed and therefore I had to stay inside for a couple of weeks. Near the end of break, Dr. Whitaker decided I was well enough to venture into the outside world and that a nice walk around the farm was just what I needed. I couldn’t wait to get outside and soak up that Vitamin D. I pull on my purple sweatpants, a T-Shirt, Long T-Shirt, and one of Dad’s old flannel coats, and head out the door. The cool brisk air is invigorating as I climb the fence that connects to our farm. As I approach the first hill I can see the cows in the distance. I decided to stay to the fence line just in case the cows decided to attack.

Now you might think that this is a little extreme, but you will soon see that my life was saved because of this well thought-out plan.

I finally come to a place where the woods stick out beyond the fence line. I decide that it is still safe to walk along the tree line since the cows wouldn’t be able to run as fast in the woods (And don’t kid yourself, those cows are fast.)

I begin to walk around when all of the cows stop what they are doing and turn to face me. “Just look forward Bobbie Jo. Don’t acknowledge them and they’ll leave you alone. If you can’t see them, they can’t see you.” No sooner had I thought these words did one particular menacing looking cow start running toward me at break-neck speed. It finally stops about five feet away from me, snorting and rearing its head. I start to back slowly into the woods and the cow begins to follow me. Not only that, but all of the other cows run over to where I am. I make a hasty retreat into the woods and dive for the fence line. I know if I can get there I am saved. As I reach the fence I turn around and see that the cows are still at the edge of the woods.
Since I am not the most graceful person, I decided that it would be best if I could cross at the gate instead of trying to go over barbed-wire. I am about half-way to the gate when all of the cows run towards it. Those diabolical cows are scheming against me and only ran over there to block my escape! I decide that I have to bite the bullet and just climb the fence. I’m at a place where there’s no barbed-wire, so I figure now or never. I place my foot next the post (just like you taught me dad) and begin my ascent. A got one leg over when the rotten log moves and I’m thrown on top of it, cutting up my hand. Afraid that my commotion may have alerted the cows I continue on. I am now in a field where there are no cows, but in order to get back to the house I have to go through another field with more cows. Now these cows were friendly before, but I can now see the evil cows conversing with the nice ones. I knew this was going to have to be an operation of stealth if I wanted to get out still intact. Using my animal-like instincts I manage to elude the cows and make it to the safety of home. I tried to convince my dad of the evil that is hibernating in his cows, and even showed him my scars, but he just laughed at me and told me that they were hungry. Well I already knew that. They thought I was dinner!

So next time you see one of those cute little Chik-fil-A cows, don't be deceived. Under those black and white spots lie an evilness bent on taking over the world, one Bobbie Jo at a time.

Pump It Up

2005-04-21T09:13:00.000-04:00

After reading Alecia’s blog about the horrors of working out in the gym, I was inspired to write. A couple of years ago (although I may have been 8) my sister decided that it would be fun if we had some sister bonding time. Since I idolize my sister and think she is the greatest thing since Walker Texas Ranger, I was all for her grand plan. We decided to go to Gold’s Gym and do a work out called Body Pump. The name should have clued me in on all the pain I was going to endure, but being a work-out rookie I thought I had nothing to fear. “Don’t worry Bobbie Jo. It’s just 45 minutes and you get to listen to music the entire time.” 45 minutes of leisurely exercising at my own pace didn’t seem like such a big deal.
As the music begins, I feel pumped. The first set goes great. I feel revived and energetic like I can tackle anything that this aerobics junkie can dish out. Since I am doing so well, Alecia decides to up my weights. 1-2-3 release, 1--2--3 release 1---2---3 release. I soon come to realize that the words one, two, and three are actually evil words created by the devil himself, while the word release is a gift from God. Pretty soon I begin huffing and puffing. My sit-ups are more of lean-ups and my curls are more like bends. There is one brief moment of hope when the instructor says BREAK! As soon as I sit down to take a breather I hear an all too familiar voice saying ALL RIGHT LADIES! LET’S PUMP IT UP! I look up at my sister as a Jennifer Lopez song starts vibrating off the walls, and she cannot help but laugh at the deer-in-headlights look on my face. Every couple of minutes I ask her what time it is and how much longer I have to endure this suffering. Soon there is only five minutes left and I know that this dark chapter in my life is about to end (yes, 45 minutes can consume a whole chapter). I can see the light at the end of the tunnel when all of a sudden I hear seven little words that strikes fear in my heart. ALLRIGHT LADIES! IT’S TIME FOR SOME LUNGES! I look to Aleica for a little sympathy but she has turned away from me, trying to hide her laughter and the tears that are cascading down her face. So there I am in gray shorts, and a white t-shirt, with my ponytail pulled high, looking in the mirror wondering what I had done to deserve this. Shocks are racing up and down my legs. I can barely stand up let alone participate in the most heinous exercise position ever thought up by man. "Just a few more bars of music," I keep telling myself. "It'll all be over soon."
The music finally stops and my torture comes to an end. I heave a sigh of relief as I lay face up thanking God for not allowing me to keel over those last forty-five minutes. After this terrifying experience, it is safe to say that I have never been back to Gold’s Gym since.

My Father Loves to Dance

2005-03-27T14:21:00.000-05:00

My father loves to dance. He might try to escape every time he sees me in the hall with a playful glint in my eye, but I know that he loves it when I give him a “dance lesson.” In fact, he even wrote a blog entry about the joys of dancing (he may not have said it in so many words, but I can read between the lines.) I went home this weekend, and as I was getting ready for bed, my mom came into the room. Since there is a song constantly playing in my head, I take her hands and begin dancing. My dad walks into the room to tell me good night when he instantly turns away and walks down the hall as fast as possible. I race out of the room to try and catch him. Hearing me crash into the hall wall, he looks over his shoulder and sees me barrel out of the room. His fast walk turns into a desperate run. I almost catch him as I try to wedge my foot in his door before he can close it, but he was a tad bit quicker. Therefore, I only do what any other youngest child would do. I began begging. “Please open the door Daddy! I just want a good night hug!” After a couple of minutes, he finally opens the door a few inches, sticks out his arm and pats me on the back. Then he lets me stick my arm in the door to return the “hug.” I knew that deep down he really wanted to dance, but since it was late, and Sonrise Service was the next morning, he didn’t want me to be tired. What a thoughtful dad. I’ll have to return the thoughtfulness today with an extra-long dance lesson.

I was Wrong. Cheaters do Win

2005-03-20T23:27:00.000-05:00

As soon as I wrote my previous blog (I Cannot Cheat), I engaged in a game of Risk with Stephen and four of his friends. After four turns, I was obliterated off the world as all of my countries were invaded and my men crushed. How could this happen to the Cynthiana Baptist Winter Risk Champion, you may ask? I’ll tell you how. Those mischievous Mayfieldians like to make treaties and alliances. Since I just wrote my previous blog, I could not join in on all the corrupt dealings that were happening. Because of my unwillingness to cheat, I finished last. Stephen even beat me, and he usually goes kamikaze after 10 minutes of play.
The moral of the story is, if you’re going to cheat A) don’t get caught B) get your buddies to cheat with you, and C) make sure there’s at least one other person who’s not cheating so they can be the ultimate loser.

I Cannot Cheat

2005-03-19T23:32:00.000-05:00

For 18 years I have been taught that cheaters never win. It doesn’t matter if you’re playing euchre or even a friendly game of croquet. Cheating is not an option.
However, last weekend I felt a change in the winds. My friends and I were headed down to Daytonia (Day-tone-ya) and on the way we stopped by Knoxville to visit Stephen’s family. After eating some pretty darn good bar-b-q, the family decided to break out Phase 10. Since I am a Whitaker, and cannot pass up a game of cards, I immediately jump in on the action. This is when I find out that my boyfriend is an avid cheater, much like those fellows down in Corbin, who sticks Wild Cards down his socks. After somehow getting his phase every hand, the family realizes his dirty plot, and he is forced to return to Phase One. I, of course, was shocked with all of the shenanigans going around. Therefore, the next hand I only did what any normal person would do. I was working on a run of nine and all I needed was a five. I looked down at the cards Stephen had already played, and there was a five just screaming “take me, take me.” I slyly reach down and pick up the card, unnoticed. I thought I was home free until I heard “Stephen! What did you do with that five!” Instantly, the entire room turned on Stephen and was threatening to kick him out. I was nearly rolling on the ground with laughter. The look on his face was priceless. I finally admitted that it was I who stole the five, and the room was stunned. I was forced to go back to phase one and now I cannot be in a conversation without a cheating joke thrown in somewhere in the mix. In fact, there are jokes being said that this very moment. I must say that cheaters do finish last, and it is not just a worn out saying. I will never cheat again in my life. Well, until next time at least.

Growing Up

2005-03-01T23:38:00.000-05:00

There have been many times in my life where I wonder if I will ever grow up. Just two weeks ago this question once again popped into my mind.
That day had the perfect weather. The temperature was in the mid 60s and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was the kind of day that my dad would have gone out to work at dawn and not come back until after sunset.
As I was walking back to Knight Hall, a couple of friends asked me if I wanted to go to the park with them. Ha! As if they even had to ask. I will jump at any chance to go and play. The entire way to Jacobson Park I was giddy and practically jumping out of my seat. When we finally got there, I launched out of the car and raced towards the swings. I, not necessarily being the fastest but having the most enthusiasm, won the race to the swings. Of course, no one else new we were racing, but that’s not the point of the story. For hours I played on the swings, slid down slides, raced across the castle, jumped over steaming hot lava, and I even crawled through tires without ever getting my nearly 6 foot frame stuck. All of the parents were giving us weird looks and wondering what these 5 crazy college kids were doing, but we didn’t care. We were just there to have fun and appreciate the beautiful day that God had given us.
That’s when it hit me. I don’t want to grow up. I want to be able to go to a park and pretend that there are crocodiles in the woodchips. I want to be able to swing as high as I can then jump off at the peak of the swing. I want to be able to feel that pure joy that only a child can have.