<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568</id><updated>2011-07-08T03:01:42.765-07:00</updated><title type='text'>што сега кучки</title><subtitle type='html'>a bit of my brain on Macedonia</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-6685139418732581215</id><published>2009-06-04T14:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T14:26:47.718-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mexican Salad</title><content type='html'>Hello everyone as usual its been awhile. Things have been pretty slow here in Skopje. From what I hear most of the people leave Skopje and travel to Ohrid during the summer to enjoy the beautiful lake and cooler temperatures. This of course leaves me with a problem of having no students. I enjoy having some free time but too much free time and no income can be a very bad combination. Thankfully there are some things coming up in the next month to take my mind off of having nothing to do. One of these is a friends wedding. His wedding is going to be in one of the regions of Macedonia that is known for making wine and rakija, obviously this will be an enjoyable time. As usual though I do have some complaints.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sonja just recently had her wisdom teeth out. During the operation the the dentist injected her nerve with the anesthesia. This did make the side of her mouth numb while the surgery was happening but it also has left her tongue numb for the last few weeks. It was originally supposed to wear off after a day or two and since it has continued she has had to go back to ask about it. The first time the doctor just laughed at her and told her it will be fine in a few more days. It did not. So they had her sit in front of what can be best described as a red light at a house party. This light may actually help people out but it looks just like something I have seem many times in college. The dentist then told her that it will still be ok and if that doesnt work then it may be a little more serious than he thought, with a laugh. She has gone a few more times and still nothing so they moved her on to laser treatment. I have no clue what this is actually and when she asked the person working the machine three different times the best answer she said she got was "it does something and helps" The person working this machine also mentioned to her that this numbness could last a few months or even be permanent. This pissed her off. She confronted her doctor and asked him why he did not tell her this originally and thanked him for his craftsmanship. He again laughed at her and told her to relax. If any of you have met Sonja, this was not a good idea. So after all this time her tongue is still numb and waiting for feeling to come back. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just a little of what has been going on this last month&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-6685139418732581215?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/6685139418732581215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=6685139418732581215' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/6685139418732581215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/6685139418732581215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2009/06/mexican-salad.html' title='Mexican Salad'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-3124562448168189648</id><published>2009-05-17T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T10:49:08.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drinking Beer with a 5 yr old</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/ShBNqHly9II/AAAAAAAAAA4/9D7WPM_7MrU/s1600-h/n22103971_31838032_6214348.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/ShBNqHly9II/AAAAAAAAAA4/9D7WPM_7MrU/s320/n22103971_31838032_6214348.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336850944421459074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey party peoples, as usual I have not written on here and I am sorry for that. (from the bottom of my heart) but I want to correct that and show you some things that I actually have been doing these last few months here. I write for a local magazine and have even had two of my writings "published" I will say published because it makes me sound much cooler than I am. Really these are just my idea on the subject of sex which they asked me to write about. Now I will take this time to apologize to my family.... ok I feel better now. On with the show.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is my observation on relationships in Macedonia. They are for the most part fucked up, not everyones just a lot of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;Relationships&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;“Its not cheating if you are fucking, its only cheating if you are making love.” “I get bored of her and need to find a new girl, but in the morning I still love my girlfriend.” These are things men have told me here in Skopje. Guys who I considered good and who I respected them as my friend. Most people who are in relationships love their boyfriend or girlfriend very much, so much that they want to have sex with other people on a regular basis. It seems that in most relationships, there is something missing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;To be in a relationship means you can make that person feel like the only one in the world or it means you can make them feel hurt more than anyone else in the world. Basically you have that power.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;To love is to trust, to care and to want. Most of the same people who told me these things about cheating on their girl also told me that if their girl cheated on them it would crush them. This is the power that love has over people and when people play with love they tarnish the things they say. To say you love and to be in love are two different things. Ask someone who is truly in love and they can tell you this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;This is not about telling you to not have sex. Sex is fun, it is better than any day to day activity in comparison. There is a reason why we all enjoy it so much and a reason why the people who are not getting it, want it so bad. But the truth is, with sex comes responsibility. The responsibility to be safe, I will not even mention STD’s because anyone with common sense knows about them. It is the responsibility to think about who and why you are having sex. I will say again, sex is fun. But is sex really fun with someone who is just using you? Someone who only cares about you for that one night or a few nights out of a month? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;A lot of people use the words sex and love together, but they are two different things. All of this comes down to respect. Not respecting others, but having respect for yourself to think about why you are in this reverse cowgirl position. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Now this was another one that I did just recently. It is about open relationships, the magazine asked me to write about open relationships so I went with the most stereotypical ideas that I could&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:21px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Open Relationships &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;What is a relationship status? According to facebook, it is what and how you are connected to another person you may be in a relationship with. This seems like a difficult concept or maybe its something easy, that networking sites like facebook are making complicated. Maybe facebook has tried to simplify it all by adding the “its complicated” option to their list of choices. However being in an “open relationship” brings up more questions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;In the most basic way, an open relationship can be defined as caring about someone enough that if you HAD to be with one person and one person only, they would be that person. This does not mean that they don’t care about each or love each other. Remember this is a complicated subject. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Some people are in regular relationships that are forced into open relationships because of distance, ideals or a hyperactive sex drive that one person alone cannot satisfy. Because of this there may be an understanding between the couple that they do care about each other, but they are still not ready to settle down completely. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Open relationships that are created because of distance are some of the hardest to maintain. Usually these are the kind that if the two were living nearer, they would be exclusive to the other. Since there is such a distance however, they are secure in their feelings enough to allow the other to bang whomever they would like. It’s the understanding that making each other hold back from enjoying some sexual gratification isn’t fair that makes these relationships so special. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Some people really just don’t feel that they need to be tied down to a boyfriend or girlfriend. I wont classify this group as a swinger because that will be addressed next. This type of relationship usually has one of the partners want a real relationship and the other isn’t ready. A friend once said to me that he was in an open relationship and he can be with whomever he wants, but his girlfriend is going to get pissed at him. A lot of times these kinds of relationships deteriorate or finally become “regular” relationships after the final few flings have happened. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;The final kind of open relationship is the “swinger” open relationship. This is not a bad thing at all. The couple knows that they care about each other. They know that they want to sleep with the other person and what the hell, why not sleep with a few other people along the way. These sorts of relationships require a lot of feelings and a lot of understand. Some people may think that the couple doesn’t really care about each other, but why then would they care enough to say they are in a relationship. If they didn’t have an emotional attachment they would just be fuck buddies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;These are not all the reasons people are in open relationships because as mentioned earlier, this topic is just too complicated to explain. However these are some very stereotypical, extremely vague and possibly biased reasons why people are in open relationships. When all is said and done though, the bottom line is that the couple have enough emotional attachment that they care enough to change their information in their profile from single to an open relationship and they don’t have to explain that to anyone. They seem happy enough. (and this is probably because they can get some ass whenever they want)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;To conclude, that is me at a friends roaring 20's birthday party. I looked very much like a little german boy. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-3124562448168189648?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/3124562448168189648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=3124562448168189648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/3124562448168189648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/3124562448168189648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2009/05/drinking-beer-with-5-yr-old.html' title='Drinking Beer with a 5 yr old'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/ShBNqHly9II/AAAAAAAAAA4/9D7WPM_7MrU/s72-c/n22103971_31838032_6214348.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-648336275837857858</id><published>2009-04-30T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T09:26:38.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cao Family</title><content type='html'>My mom and uncle came to visit me this past 10 days. I have to say before they came I made myself extremely stressed without actually realizing it. It could be because I chose to live in this place instead of back home nearer to my family. Once they got here everything went away and I had an amazing time. The first night consisted of a lot of grilled meat and alcohol. Actually this can sum up the entire trip that we had. Skara and Skopso... I want to open up a restaurant under this name. Anyways, I miss my family more than I thought I could. Skype is such a beautiful tool that I think I have even given it props in an earlier post. With Skype I get to see my family but that never makes up for being able to cheers with them or give them a hug when I want. There was a strange feeling when my mom and uncle were here. The term being in a cloud has been used by many people but when they were here I felt like I was in a dream world. Macedonia, my life now and where I have lived for the past 8 months and my family who I havent seen for just as long. It was strange watching my mom buy stuff from the local kiosk that I go to. To see my uncle say fala to the waitress after we get a beer. It just never seemed real the whole time. Im looking back at these pics and already missing you guys, I havent heard if you made the plane but I am sure you did. By the way welcome to Macedonia for the flight cancelation. I just figured it had to happen eventually but I hope it all turned out. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now on to some stories about what happened while you were here. We got lost in Pelister National Park. Like really lost. Sure we could have been fine after a few more hours but we were on a little used path no where near where we needed to be. If we continued like that we would have ended up bloodier than we already were and then we would have had to hunt for food sooner than later. It was awkward walking into a 5 star hotel where everyone was wearing 3 piece suits and you are bloody, sweaty and very muddy. The nice thing about Macedonia is that they still gave us free drinks and welcomed us like we were honored guests.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got invited into a random families house for homemade rakija. They did not know us, they did not speak english at all. This is a normal occurrence here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ohrid is beautiful. You can walk around the cobblestone roads and find a church anywhere. I enjoyed watching people stair at my mom like she is crazy because she was wearing sandals. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While walking the streets and passing older people, the look on their faces when the stare past us because we are speaking english and then to say dobar den to them and they actually jump from not expecting it is priceless. I loved watching how peoples faces change from indifference to pure joy so quickly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The kids that try and steal money from you love my uncle, so much they have swarmed him twice now. He didnt like it and made sure they knew it the 2nd time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The trail along Matka does not lead you to the cave, but it is a beautiful hike with some tricky places to navigate. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I miss my family and want to be with you all very much. I will be there soon enough but I know for my mom and dad this will still not be that soon. I love you all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-648336275837857858?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/648336275837857858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=648336275837857858' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/648336275837857858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/648336275837857858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2009/04/cao-family.html' title='Cao Family'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-3933777792371688367</id><published>2009-04-14T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T07:20:01.084-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Riding on borrowed time</title><content type='html'>I have just bought a bike. This excites me very much because riding a bike is not only fun, but it makes my commute much shorter... or so I thought. In the trip from my apartment to my work I have to hop at least 5 curbs before I even make it to the halfway point, which is the city center. Once I get here things tend to slow down because I have to navigate through the previously mentioned "drunk walking people" that move all over the place except for a straight line. After I find my way out of the center then I encounter the parking lots. Now I do not actually mean there are parking lots that I have to cut through. What I mean is that the sidewalks here are just used as parking lots. I have always noticed this but eventually it became second nature as I am walking to go past them, it was easy. On a bike when you are trying to get from one side to the other and 4 cars are parked in a way and the only way to get past them is going around the entire thing, it sucks. Cars park in a weird maze kind of way that usually blocks at least one of the drivers in but as long as you can get out who cares &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;neli&lt;/span&gt;? It is very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;dissappointing&lt;/span&gt; that in most cases I have to actually get out onto the street to find any room to ride my bike and because of this I then have to deal with Macedonian drivers. Macedonian drivers are fucking horrible. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Im&lt;/span&gt; sorry for the foul language but you can ask any Macedonian and that is one of the first things they will agree with. If any of you can remember seeing the very first fast and the furious movie? Do you remember coming out of the theater and how every single person felt they needed to drive as fast as they can and swerve back and forth? That will give you a very good representation of how the drivers are here. They swerve back and forth through lanes at pretty high speeds for no other reason than they think its fun. This leads me to another point. Yesterday while walking around a government official and his police convoy drove past me. This happens quite often actually. Some tinted out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Benz's&lt;/span&gt; or BMW's will have their sirens blaring and go speeding past you and what can only be said an extremely dangerous speed in the city of Skopje. If any Des &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Moines&lt;/span&gt; Police officer was caught going this speed for any other reason than an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; emergency, they would be fired. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Thats&lt;/span&gt; how fast they are going. So my friend told me they have to do this because they work for the government and they need to take care of important things. Skopje is not a large city. To get from the center to the edge of the city may take 10 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;mins&lt;/span&gt; if there is heavy traffic. Usually it takes 5 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;mins&lt;/span&gt; by car and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;thats&lt;/span&gt; it. These guys are just going so fast because they can it seems and its interesting when I tell you this next part. So my friend told me that they have the police escort them everywhere now because driving that fast is dangerous so the escort helps. Another reason why they have the escort now is because the first president of Macedonia was horrible injured in an accident driving those speeds. So to sum up, the drivers are crazy, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;politicians&lt;/span&gt; drive at ridiculous speeds even though the first president was nearly killed doing the same thing and finally all the sidewalks are just parking spots.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-3933777792371688367?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/3933777792371688367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=3933777792371688367' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/3933777792371688367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/3933777792371688367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2009/04/riding-on-borrowed-time.html' title='Riding on borrowed time'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-3821187799272663798</id><published>2009-04-08T03:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T04:06:18.329-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The changing weather...</title><content type='html'>I really believe that Macedonians are a fickle people. A lot of things have happened in the last few days that I will cover briefly but in no great detail, because my friends know more about them than myself. I will say this tho, the weather is changing and it is changing Macedonians. During the winter this place seemed cold and sad. It did not help that Skopje was hit with some very cold and shitty weather. However it just seemed like people were too bundled up in their houses and their clothes when they left. Being outside was still common for people but they hated it and you could see it. Now the weather is beginning to get extremely nice, I am talking 70 degrees for this last week. Because of this there is a huge flux of people getting out and doing something. All the local coffee shops are opening up their outdoor areas. These areas are very different from what we are used to back home and my family will see when they come here. Here it is expected that you sit outside so you can see the people and see how everyone is dressed. If you face your back to the street people may look at you different and most places are actually set up so that no one has to have their back to the street. These outside chairs are very different than the outside chairs we have back home, the atmosphere is just different. People want to be outside now. It is funny too because the nicer the weather gets the more people want to show themselves off. Today while walking to work I noticed a girl that was wearing an outfit that I have only seen girls where on Halloween back home when they are trying to be a sexy nurse. But more than the way people dress, it is the way people act. It seems Macedonians were a people made to be in the sun. People are happier, cherrier and more outgoing now. This is hard to do because Macedonians are some of the nicest people you can meet. Think midwesterners but Macedonians will not only talk and be friendly but then they will invite you in their house to have coffee and maybe offer you their daughter... ok that last part was on rare occassions but seriously it seems to be confectious. (Dont know if thats a real word or correct spelling) The weather seems to be making Macedonia happier and it didnt really need it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-3821187799272663798?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/3821187799272663798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=3821187799272663798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/3821187799272663798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/3821187799272663798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2009/04/changing-weather.html' title='The changing weather...'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-2323686597368122488</id><published>2009-03-13T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T17:34:03.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For my friends</title><content type='html'>Hey everyone, it has been awhile. It's weird to think sometimes how far away I am from all of you. Thanks to the internet I it feels like you are all right down the street and we can hang out whenever we want. I realize though how far the distance really is whenever I do go out and honestly, I miss you. I miss freshman year when our group of friends would get together almost every night and figure out something to do, either being watching a movie in Jay and Bobbys room or drinking and Scott and Tones house. From sophomore year when we would always be partying at Travis and Jeffs house on 2nd street with Rusty in the attic or I would mosey on up to Schmeltz and Dgraffs original place up the ally way. Bobby I miss living with you in that sweet ass apartment that we had together. Seriously I dont know how two college students could find such a sweet location. That year I believe was the most I have ever partied and had so many friends come over in two semesters. To all the people staying over on our couches and the countless games of beerpong played on the table we stole from Kelly and Kayles place. (22 in a row and still champs!- Devin and Myself) To my senior year which we lucked out just as much and fell into Devins place on main. Living with all of you, Kayle, Bob, Mike, Enz, Trent and Cam was a blast. I never may have known as much of you as well as I should have but we had a good time even so. From making forts in the front room and getting scared of ghosts to trying not to get the crazy neighbors to call on us, it was fun. That year we spent a lot of time at Travis, Jay and Tones. You guys had a great place and Jay I am sorry for slapping you in the ear. I couldnt see at the time and swung for the fences, I am sorry. That year I think there was a group of 16 of us that went out together almost every night. If one of us went out it seemed like all of us did. Amanda, Kelsey, Ali, Nikky, Erin, LC, Jay, Tones, Scott, Lyndsy, Bob, Kayle, kelly, Enz, Jason, Dan (We need to talk) Lainey Bug, Kenny, all of you. I know I didnt put all of your names but you are all in my thoughts. Seriously. Brad and Cole, I miss growing up with you B-Rad. We spent a lot of time trying to figure out what exactly the fuck we were going to do and it usually ended up being nothing much. We werent the most creative people but we had fun anyways. Andy, Schmeltz, Tom, Dgraff, Rapp and all the rest of you. I had some of the best times of my life these last few years with you all. The truth is I miss you, I think of that fact that we will never have those moments again. Being able to enjoy each others companies as freely as we did in the past. I want you to know that I miss those times and I miss you all. Thanks for being my friends. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- "one love"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-2323686597368122488?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/2323686597368122488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=2323686597368122488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/2323686597368122488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/2323686597368122488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2009/03/for-my-friends.html' title='For my friends'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-7844376985014762571</id><published>2009-03-11T12:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T12:04:21.581-07:00</updated><title type='text'>11.03.09</title><content type='html'>A roma kid just punched, then kicked me in the back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-7844376985014762571?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/7844376985014762571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=7844376985014762571' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/7844376985014762571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/7844376985014762571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2009/03/110309.html' title='11.03.09'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-6460696046044518832</id><published>2009-02-24T03:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T03:40:15.640-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My first Haircut</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Arial; font-size: 21px; line-height: 19px; "&gt;23.02.09&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Arial; "&gt;I wanted to write about what happened to me when I got my haircut. It was the first time here in MK that I did get it done and it did not disappoint. So I go into the place that is right outside my apartment on the way to the store. When I walk in I realize that I am in trouble because none of them speak English. The girl that is cutting hair is about my age and a 30 something year old is sitting there doing some other ladies nails. Another lady who is obviously their friend is sitting on the couch with her little girl. So I try to explain that I want a haircut and they tell me to come back in a little bit. When I get back the 30 something year old starts speaking some English with me and I speak a few words of Macedonian to explain what I want. My skills are still pretty horrible so it wasn’t pretty. As the girl is washing my hair the lady asks if I like the women here in MK and I respond “Yes of course, they are all beautiful” I figure in this situation the best plan of attack would be flattery. On the trip from the wash to the seat I notice that the girl cutting my hair has undone the bottom button on her uniform, revealing her stomach and bellybutton. I found this kinda odd since I didn’t remember it being undone before. So she begins to cut my hair and I try to explain short on the sides and a bit longer on top. As shes cutting my sides he turns my head to face her chest and that’s when I realize she has undone another button as well. The second button from the top of her uniform is now undone showing off her lacy black undergarment underneath. I was going to chalk the bellybutton button to coincidence, but after this I realize she may be doing it on purpose. So the haircut goes on and she continually forces my face to one side or the other, the side that she happens to be standing on. I get what Bevis and Butthead called “Shoulder Boob” a few times and a even few times on the back of my head for good measure. After she was done I thanked her, paid my money and tried to explain that I didn’t need her to wash my hair again because I was going to take a shower, but she thought I was telling her my name. All in all it was an interesting experience.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-6460696046044518832?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/6460696046044518832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=6460696046044518832' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/6460696046044518832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/6460696046044518832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-first-haircut.html' title='My first Haircut'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-5035522794745399194</id><published>2009-02-08T13:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T14:08:53.885-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow white and the 7 dwarfs</title><content type='html'>Today I went to Veles. It is a little town about a half an hour away from Skopje. There really isnt anything there that people go see except the main street and possibly the river that runs through the center of town. But this is not why I am writing today. As Sonja and I were waiting to come back to Skopje, we sat in the deserted, dirty, creepy, waiting room. Mostly we sat there or looked at the stupid things people have written on the walls over the years. After a bit, in walks this old, old lady with a cane as large as her, dressed all in black. She has on a hood over the top of her head and everything. Sonja turns to me and says "these are the kinds of people that scare me" I just gave the lady a cursory glance at first and after she said this I looked back. If they were ever going to make a live action movie for snow white, this lady would be the perfect evil witch. You know the one who makes the poison apple? Not only did she walk in with the walking stick and the hood, but she was muttering to herself the whole time. Just now I looked this up from the movie on Youtube and she even is muttering in it too! So there we are sitting in this dark, empty room with the evil witch from snow white. The best part has yet to come tho as I keep stealing glances in her direction, getting ready for her to turn me into a frog, when I notice something on her face. As most of you know, I usually have a beard. Sometimes this beard can get to be pretty long and gnarly. This lady had a perfect light grey goatee from one end of her chin to the other. It looked like she shaved the rest of her face and left this bad boy to shine. Truthfully I was a bit jealous. Bobby, if you are reading this I am sorry but you will never be able to grow facial hair like this old lady. I dont think I can even grow a beard as magnificent as this. We sat there a bit longer and then the train finally came and we got out of there quick. I kept trying to figure out how I could have gotten a picture of her but she probably wouldn't have showed up in the photo anyways. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-5035522794745399194?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/5035522794745399194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=5035522794745399194' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/5035522794745399194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/5035522794745399194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2009/02/snow-white-and-7-dwarfs.html' title='Snow white and the 7 dwarfs'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-7482101946824857136</id><published>2009-02-04T13:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T13:42:48.181-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Work</title><content type='html'>So whats new in my life... I just got a job last month and have been working like crazy ever since. Now I have 12 classes a day. My first class is at 8 am. This means I wake up at 7 to shower, brush my teeth and then I start walking for work. Thankfully my first student is a HUGE bundle of energy. Hes this 40 something spanish guy who is very excited about learning english. It really helps. I have class with him until 9:40 then get a 20 min break and have my group at 10:00. My group consists of 5 friends who work for the same company. They are all about 30 something and know english about as well as any other Macedonian I know. Class with these students are basically me having conversation with them and trying to teach them a bit about business. Its hard when business culture here is so vastly different from back home. I like the forwardness and straight to business approach that Macedonians had and I loved the responses that I got from them when I had to explain the "niceties" of asking how the family is our about the sports teams before business. Another thing with the culture is the idea that people who are excited to tackle a job here are considered morons and ass kissers, while back home if you dont show excitement you wont get the job. Needless to say these conversations can lead to some pretty interesting things being said. They are all good friends so talking shit on the other people is not out of the question for them, especially when we had 6 chapters on negotiations. Sometimes it gets difficult to control but for the most part it is a blast. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I have this group until 1:40 and have another 20min break until 2 when I have my last student of the day. She is one of the coworkers of my previous group who is just a little lower level than they are. I feel bad for her because she has to be stuck with me until 5:40. I am pretty tired by this part of the day but I usually drink enough coffee to keep me wired. As some of you know when I have a lot of sugar I can get pretty annoying. Like I said, I feel sorry for her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once I am done at 5:40 I take the 30 min walk home and then eat. Look at the stuff I have to teach for the next day. Check facebook and then sleep. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have gotten to be pretty boring here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-7482101946824857136?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/7482101946824857136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=7482101946824857136' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/7482101946824857136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/7482101946824857136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2009/02/work.html' title='Work'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-445886152517880214</id><published>2009-01-21T11:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T11:30:55.471-08:00</updated><title type='text'>we are better in the midwest?</title><content type='html'>On my 40 min walks to work I have a lot of time to think about random things. A lot of the time it has nothing to do with anything and I just phase in and out, but sometimes my thoughts have something interesting in them. I was thinking about something my friend mentioned to me and then I have confirmed on facebook. Almost every American I know here, Fullbright, Peacecorps or teacher is from the midwest. I know people from Illinois, a few from Indiana, Wisconsin, Minnesota and Michigan. I make up another of the Big Ten (sports reference) being from Iowa. I wonder if there is some correlation to all this, how people from the midwest really do care more? Maybe we actually do more than say we just want to help and we get out there and actually do try. This is probably just me boasting a bit about being from the midwest and having a small sample size to back up my statement, but it feels good. Its humorous that all the people from the coasts are "hip and modern" and usually more "politically involved" I say though, where are you? Are you back home right now working on America? Well I will say this, since I left the place you sure did let it all go to hell. Thats another biased comment with no facts to back it up but you cant say anything about it. Unless you read this, comment on it and then I will delete it... so ha ha I win. Anyways I was just thinking about this on the way to work today and it is very humorous that every American I meet here is almost always from the middle of America.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-445886152517880214?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/445886152517880214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=445886152517880214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/445886152517880214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/445886152517880214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2009/01/we-are-better-in-midwest.html' title='we are better in the midwest?'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-1457859897065822973</id><published>2009-01-12T05:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T05:35:23.580-08:00</updated><title type='text'>first day of work</title><content type='html'>Today was my first day of work. It went much better than I anticipated. Admittedly I was assuming that my students would be old business owners who did not want to speak freely and would look at me in contempt. Thankfully my entire class was late 20 to 30 somethings that were all very polite, knew what I was talking about and the entire class was more of a conversation. This put me a little at ease and we ended up having a good time. Hopefully they are learning some of the material that I am trying to teach. The company I work for has its own teaching style and an outline of what I am supposed to teach. We are told to deviate to make the material based more about them and I tried to do that. Anyways all the students skills in english seem a little above what the material is that I am trying to teach, but o well it is still helping them. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;other than that nothing new has been going on here. I have my apartment to myself this last week since my new roommate is out of the country and the old one finally moved out. The funny thing about my old roommate moving out was that the night before he brought a bunch of people over to drink at smoke at like 4 in the morning and then they stayed to 6ish. At the time I was pissed but I kept telling myself that he was leaving and I could handle one more night. Anyways the next morning he wakes me up early and thanks to the girl that stayed over with him, he had a lot of his stuff packed up. Now I found it funny that the girl helping him move his stuff out knew we were moving it to his girlfriends place. I must give the guy credit that he had this girl, who he sleeps with regularly, help him move his stuff to his girlfriends place. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-1457859897065822973?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/1457859897065822973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=1457859897065822973' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/1457859897065822973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/1457859897065822973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2009/01/first-day-of-work.html' title='first day of work'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-1385877540886542706</id><published>2008-12-30T15:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T15:43:19.988-08:00</updated><title type='text'>icup</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Ok and here is some random observations:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Back home people tend to walk with a purpose. While walking behind someone or a group of people you know they will eventually veer off when they come to what they need. Here that is not the case. This culture consists of people wandering from place to place. I don't mean this is any negative way because this is typically what I do anyways. But what I mean is when you are behind someone here, they most likely will stop abruptly or veer off in a direction without looking behind them. If you are moving too quick this may mean you will have to jump out of the way. I have not been able to figure out why people here stop like that. Its like something catches their eyes and they must stop to investigate. Another thing that happens a lot is the small herd mentality. Back home small groups of people move together and again with a purpose. You can skirt past these groups rather easily if you are in a hurry. Here groups of people still follow the wanderer characteristic, and they still do it individually. What I mean is if you come up to a group of 5 people moving slower than you would like, the farthest right person will not walk a straight line. Instead a zig zag has been implemented by he or she and the same is being done by the person on the left. It seems like this has been done to maximize space for the people in the middle so they can do whatever the hell they want (Stop, yell, stare off into space, anything but walk a straight line) To encounter this group and try to get around them WHILE people are doing the same thing coming from the other direction demands a lot of patience and an understanding of your own body. Lastly I will mention elderly people and groups of men. Elderly people I do not chose to pick on you. I love you, one day hopefully I will be you. That being said, I wish that we could have some kind of lane for you (like a carpool lane) where you can enjoy yourselves. Believe me I am usually right there with you, but somedays I fear of me knocking you over by accident. Groups of guys. This accounts for all ages. Not every woman wants you. Not everyone woman needs you to chase them down in the center to harass them. Please wear suites/shirts that are not so shiny, it hurts my eyes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well guys and gals and whomever else. I hope you enjoyed another rant of random shit that may give you some insight on to what my day to day is here. On a side note, I did get an actual paying job to go along with helping out at a local magazine this last week but who cares about that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-1385877540886542706?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/1385877540886542706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=1385877540886542706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/1385877540886542706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/1385877540886542706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/icup.html' title='icup'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-7178028857539776541</id><published>2008-12-20T14:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T14:32:34.881-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Што сега кучки</title><content type='html'>што цега кучки, for all of you who do not speak macedonian means "what now bitch" funny huh?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the reason that I am telling you all this and even bringing up this topic is that I have recently begun trying to learn macedonian at a more accelerated pace. I will be posting words around the apartment to help out and even in the bathroom. Hopefully this means that I will be able to understand every 3 words that people speak here compared to when people say "I am" or "I want" Thankfully my new roommate is here specializing in Balkan languages so if he does not help me out, I will systematically try and kick him out also... jk?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Another thing that I wanted to write about was the alcohol law here. Right before I came back a law was passed making it illegal to sell alcohol after 7 in anywhere except clubs or discos. Of course you can still find places to buy alcohol from but this usually entails the dude looking around for police and charging you a few denari more. Basically the feeling just leaves you dirty and that you have done something morally wrong because you have to keep explaining you wont tell anyone about it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Another somewhat confusing thing here is the amount of money things cost. A typical candy bar or pop will cost anywhere between 35 to 50 denari or $1. Going to the grocery store and stocking up for a decent amount of time can set you back about 700-1000 denari or $20 depending on how you buy. What I am trying to get across is the idea of having things on a 10-1000 scale instead of a 1-10 scale. I have always been someone who thinks simple is easier and being here my first month and learning the numbers 1-10 and then realizing that I will almost never really need to know those numbers is a little disheartening. A friend of mine has written about how you will almost always be using 100 denari bills when you are buying something. This is because typically whatever you buy will of course be in this price range. To compare 100 denari is about $2.50. I know this part of my blog contains a lot of ranting and is a bit confusing seeing as I am completely lost myself right now, but what my general thought is is that for awhile I could not understand the money situation a all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On a side note. Devet and Deset. I hate you   (this is the words for 9 and 10 respectively)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lastly I would like to mention that new years is coming up. I hope that all of you will be enjoying yourselves back home and it is my wish that none of you hit a deer. Here in MK new years is THE holiday. People get dressed up, dolled up, fucked up, any kind of up you can think of. From what has been told to me, we will all get very nicely dressed, go to a very nice place for dinner and then to some club to go dancing and partying. A lot of people even take extended holidays to lake Ohrid, which is still one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited. But the reason I bring up the new year is that kids here will throw fireworks off here at least once every 5 mins. Today I was at a museum with a few friends and I wanted to start a video of us walking around with the fireworks going off in the background and tell everyone it was actually gunshots. Sitting in my apartment now I have heard at least 10 go off in the last hour. The funny thing about all this is I am told it will only get worse as new years gets closer and will reach its peak after. The other funny thing is that the kids using all these fireworks are about 10 years old. Clearly the regulations on fireworks are about as lax as cigarettes here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well sorry that this post consists of mostly random rants and strange topics. Maybe next time I will tell you about the Albanian "mafia" dominoes bar I want us to go to soon or the new wine bar my friend Seth wants to become a local at. But of course those are for future posts. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I leave you with this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Never trust a beautiful linguist with an amazing rack. She will be a ghost.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-7178028857539776541?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/7178028857539776541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=7178028857539776541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/7178028857539776541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/7178028857539776541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/blog-post.html' title='Што сега кучки'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-5629640020568386009</id><published>2008-12-14T16:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T10:08:11.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'>11/30/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);   font-family:'Trebuchet MS';font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:'Book Antiqua';"&gt;&lt;span&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;11/30/08&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="  ;font-family:'Book Antiqua';font-size:12pt;"&gt; So I come up to my building and there is a key left in the entrance door. I look at it and then I smell the faint smell of pot coming from somewhere. I come in, lock the door and place the key on the alarm box right next to the door and start going up the flights of stairs. As I am coming up to my landing I see that my door is wide open with Lulis keys stuck in it. Standing in the living room is my roommate in nothing but his boxers, drunk off his ass with a joint in his hand. This is what I get to come home to. So he tells me that his university is having a party for all the teachers and I should come. I decline and he begins to explain how much he cares about me and how when we moved in together he wanted to take care of me to make sure no one was causing me any problems. I look at the joint in his hand, which causes him to look at the joint in his hand and he says… yeah. Its like he has no common sense. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-5629640020568386009?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/5629640020568386009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=5629640020568386009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/5629640020568386009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/5629640020568386009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/113008.html' title='11/30/08'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-4188210955235320406</id><published>2008-12-14T16:38:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T16:39:51.037-08:00</updated><title type='text'>11/26/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;11/26/08&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;Strange observation I made today. People here do not believe in lines. You can be standing right behind the person talking to the serviceman at the counter and people will come up right beside you and cut in front. This is not the strange thing that I observed though. What I observed is that people do not jaywalk here. I have never seen people cut across a road unless there are a few strips of white paint underneath them. Its kind of humorous really. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-4188210955235320406?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/4188210955235320406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=4188210955235320406' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/4188210955235320406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/4188210955235320406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/112608.html' title='11/26/08'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-4796198744517389509</id><published>2008-12-14T16:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T16:38:50.590-08:00</updated><title type='text'>11/18/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;11/18/08&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;So yesterday when I was talking to Luli two funny things happened. First he threatened to see if I can fly out the window. When I asked him if he was threatening me he said “no no just to see if you can fly” so anyways that was an experience. The other thing that happened was he brought up toilet paper again. He has a very weird idea about toilet paper and has a fascination with it that does not seem healthy. While we were arguing about everything he brought up the point that he bought toilet paper and that I have used four rolls already. He has not used any of it and I started laughing. I told him that if I have used it, it is because I have been taking shits (this is typically what tp is used for) what is crazy though, is that he does not feel this is a correct answer and I am somehow using toilet paper in other ways. When I asked him what else I can be using it for he said he didn’t know but there was no way I can be using tp just for taking shits. I wonder if he thinks I have some kind of toilet paper mummy that I am constructing in my room somewhere. Interesting… very interesting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-4796198744517389509?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/4796198744517389509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=4796198744517389509' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/4796198744517389509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/4796198744517389509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/111808.html' title='11/18/08'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-1714519560416764152</id><published>2008-12-14T16:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T16:38:10.626-08:00</updated><title type='text'>11/17/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;11/17/08&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;So a funny thing just happened. I have been trying to pay my bills to my landlord and after I gave him my money he calls me up and comes back up the stairs. As he walks in he is laughing and telling me that English mathematics are wrong. He starts crunching the numbers with me and as I am watching he keeps scribbling in new numbers and changing them. I point out that water and electricity is split so he splits the water but not the electricity. I go and get my computer and show him again how the numbers are split and how we can figure it out. It was a pretty funny experience and eventually we got back to the original numbers that I gave him earlier. He was all in good nature about it and there was no hostility like I was trying to screw him or he screw me it was just funny. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-1714519560416764152?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/1714519560416764152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=1714519560416764152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/1714519560416764152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/1714519560416764152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/111708.html' title='11/17/08'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-1673042775851056401</id><published>2008-12-14T16:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T16:37:07.666-08:00</updated><title type='text'>11/12/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 3in; line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;11/12/08&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;So last night I heard one of the best quotes I have ever received from my roommate so far. I left for a few days and when I left I know that we were out of toilet paper, like completely out. Well I asked him to pick some up before we left and he said of course he would and got mad at me for asking. Anyways it ended up that he never bought any toilet paper in the last 4 days and I do not want to know how he has been living here without it. Last night when we were talking he asked me to buy the toilet paper because, “I am just too tired after I get off work and I cant” this quote is an exact quote from him and the funny part is, is that he just got back from having coffee for a few hours with some girl (not his girlfriend) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-1673042775851056401?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/1673042775851056401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=1673042775851056401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/1673042775851056401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/1673042775851056401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/111208.html' title='11/12/08'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-7749076555210155712</id><published>2008-12-14T16:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T16:36:11.187-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Some of the crazy shit that has happened in the last week 11/11/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;-&lt;span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;and I went to a small unique coffee shop here called “new age café” the place is pretty cool as it has a literal pond, which is pretty dirty, but still they have a nice outside area that even allows you to sit on top of the water in some nice seating areas. The leaves are dropping now also so it adds another aspect to the place. The funny thing was though that there are 2 geese that seem to live there and they were hungry. They started hissing at me and flapping their wings, Sonja gave them some cookies but instead of throwing them a safe distance away she put them pretty near to us and this made the geese know we would give them food again. So after a bit they came back and started getting closer and closer, there were a table and some small stools to keep them back but that did not mean they would not hiss and quack at us. It was a little unnerving seeing them do this and continue to get angrier and angrier. Finally I had to get up and grab the bill so they started nipping at me but after a quick move of my foot they took off.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;-&lt;span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;I went to Bitola on Saturday to meet up with Patrice and see the sights. Sat night I ended up going to a peace corps party and meeting many members who are here in MK and they gave me tons of advice. It was an enjoyable experience. Also I was able to see Hera Claya. This is not the proper spelling but it is the place where Phillip the II built and he is the father of Alexander the Great. It was really interesting to see such a historical sight and Patrice was good friends with the guide working there and allowed me to come in for free and see a lot of the place. O and I just remembered that Patrice captured a Finnish guy who was about my age.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;-&lt;span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;Lastly the thing that just happened tonight. I bought some groceries at the local Vero and was walking back with Sonja. I had one bag and she was carrying the other. As we were coming out of the mall I started to get swarmed by a bunch of gypsy children. These are not nice kids that I met in Bitola. These kids tried to steal stuff from my pockets which later I found out they were able to relieve me of 20 denars so not much. While they were yelling at me Sonja kept laughing because I was being so nice while I was still pulling their hands out of my pockets. One would try and grab my wallet and while I was yanking his hand out of my back pocket the other would reach into my front right&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;pocket and try and grab some cash. Eventually one even grabbed my entire arm and tried to hold me in place while the others were working my pockets. I kept yelling NO at them but of course this did nothing. I would never mind giving these kids money but I know they are the same kids that are huffing paint every day. It is a sad state that they live in, but stealing from me is something that I do not enjoy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-7749076555210155712?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/7749076555210155712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=7749076555210155712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/7749076555210155712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/7749076555210155712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/some-of-crazy-shit-that-has-happened-in.html' title='Some of the crazy shit that has happened in the last week 11/11/08'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-630015692125071565</id><published>2008-12-14T16:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T16:34:00.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>11/4/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; "&gt;Today I sat in on the Macedonians meeting with one of the members of the red cross/crescent. It was kind of funny because I had no idea what was going on the whole time and a few times she just looked at me and I could do nothing back to her except stare. Other than that, today is also the voting day to determine who the new president is in the united states. I can not vote since I am here and was not registered before hand as an absentee voter. That is too bad but I feel that I should not be voting because I am not educated enough on either person to be voting. From what I hear, there is a good chance that Obama will win and with that there will be a definite change in the US. It will be an interesting time the next four years either way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-630015692125071565?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/630015692125071565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=630015692125071565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/630015692125071565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/630015692125071565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/11408.html' title='11/4/08'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-2925738633098238425</id><published>2008-12-14T16:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T16:33:01.250-08:00</updated><title type='text'>11/1/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; "&gt;Last night was Halloween! It was funny because my roommate and I went up to this irish pub owned by this irish guy and all the peace corps people were there. It ended up being a good time and I made a lot of contacts. Anyways I wanted to talk about something else. The cultural difference between Luli and myself has made some things very difficult and makes things hard to adapt. When I ask if I can have something, like some of his bread or use his shoes, he considers it rude that I even ask. When he takes those same kind of things without asking at all, I consider it rude that he doesn’t ask. We do these things trying to be a nice guy but when we do it, it actually comes across rude to the other person. Its somewhat humorous that way. I did have a big discussion with him about all that and hopefully things will get a little better about it. From what I have noticed he likes to bullshit. He has told me that when he was about 17 he would go out every night and do drugs and spend about 100 euros a night. How his family could afford that I have no idea. If I was doing things like that back home I would get my ass kicked and here that just doesn’t seem possible. I may just start writing about all the shit he tells me so I can write my book. Also yesterday he told me that he was one of the biggest DJ’s in all of Macedonia and they wanted him to play all around and he was the person that started the people to dance the way that they do. So I guess he invented rave dancing here in Macedonia… good times &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-2925738633098238425?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/2925738633098238425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=2925738633098238425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/2925738633098238425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/2925738633098238425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/11108.html' title='11/1/08'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-4863294966703280503</id><published>2008-12-14T16:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T09:36:53.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'>10/14/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);   font-family:'Trebuchet MS';font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:'Book Antiqua';"&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;14.10.08&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:'Book Antiqua';"&gt;So there are a lot of people who lie here in MK just like anywhere else. I have been trying to get internet now for over a month and still nothing. I moved to a new place, got a new roommate and the new boss said that we can get internet on the first day. Unfortnately he was also stealing internet at the same time and was lying. So now Luli and I are stuck trying to get internet from any other source and it is still causing problems.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:'Book Antiqua';"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:'Book Antiqua';"&gt;I continue my job search, but without internet it proves to be a bit more difficult than I imagined. Of course the NGO’s here are not just standing around with large billboards on them and I have no proper means of introducing myself or a use of contact to get in with them, except for Ivanna. Of course the day I was supposed to meet with her boss I became sick and I am still sick 4 days later and even worse than before.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'Book Antiqua';"&gt;Yeah sometimes I miss home. I think about the time when I get to come into my front door and bruce will be running at me full speed and wanting to bite me. sure I think of that. I want to see my parents again and give my mom and dad a hug. I think about these things and then I think about what I came here to accomplish. People say “take a year off” and go to Europe and shit. Maybe that is what I have done here in the back of my mind, but I know I don’t want to take this time off. I want to work, I want to help. I keep trying and trying and nobody is here to help me. I should correct that statement. There are people here to help me and I know eventually I will be able to do these things. Unfortunately it just takes a really long time to get the ball rolling here. This place is completely different. I used to think all people were the same. Now I know that all people are the same in some regards and completely different in others. I could go home right now and enjoy my bed with my parents and my dog. I could get a job and move on from this place. I cant leave here yet. I don’t know what I exactly mean by that.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-4863294966703280503?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/4863294966703280503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=4863294966703280503' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/4863294966703280503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/4863294966703280503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/101408.html' title='10/14/08'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-5576768267018902761</id><published>2008-12-14T16:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T16:27:39.701-08:00</updated><title type='text'>10/12/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);   line-height: 19px; font-family:'Book Antiqua';font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;10/12/08&lt;/div&gt;I have been neglecting this for a few days. Maybe neglect isn’t the correct word and what I should be saying is that I have been extremely sick the last few days. Also I wouldn’t say that I am extremely sick its just that I have been exhausted from the most minor things possible. Well I have been living with Luli the last week and it has been an interesting time. I have realized that he loves to drink nearly every night. I don’t know if this is because he wants me to have a good time and worries about me or if he really just likes to drink. Last night he showed up at 5ish in the morning with six other people who were all considerably fucked up. At first I just tried to go back to sleep but eventually they started cranking up the music and I forced myself to go out there. Its not that he is not a nice guy but I doubt that if he was the same and back home in America I would not spend as much time with him. The truth is he is an extremely nice guy and always wanting to make sure that I am ok. He looks out for me at all times the only real problem I have with him is that he has slept with 4 different girls in this one week I have been living with him. In some ways that is impressive and in others it is a sad show of how things are around here. From what I have gathered Luli is a well off rich kid whos dad pays for a lot of his things (not unlike myself) and very forward with women. The women here will do things with him for either that reason or because he keeps trying. I felt bad for my old neighbor because he took her virginity only a few nights ago and he told me she cried until 8 that morning. The sad thing is he was not feeling bad about it but what was even worse is that she came back over a few days later to have sex again with him. To me this is another really strange thing is the aspect of relationships here. O yes I forgot to mention that Luli has a girlfriend who works on an oilrig for 3 weeks at a time in the Netherlands. The girls that he sleeps with when they are away know about this too. It makes me wonder if his girlfriend is fucking guys when she goes away also but who knows and truthfully who cares. I just hope that soon I can get a job here and then get internet regularly. When that happens I can spend most of my day time at work and then the nights I will just deal with it. I wont care if he things that I am lame or need to go out. I don’t like spending money on getting fucked up anymore and especially when I go out the girls here try to get with me, not because they like me but because I am an American. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-5576768267018902761?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/5576768267018902761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=5576768267018902761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/5576768267018902761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/5576768267018902761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/101208-i-have-been-neglecting-this-for.html' title='10/12/08'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-4479749136773959160</id><published>2008-12-14T16:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T16:25:50.903-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;so today I moved into my new apartment. I am living with an Albanian named Luli and it is setting up to be something interesting. He is a very, very nice guy and has always been willing to help. It will be a very interesting few months with him as my roommate and im sure we will have some interesting events unfold in the near future.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;7.10.08&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "&gt;so my birthday was an interesting experience. I ended up going to this concert for Tose Proeski. He died about a year ago and there is no understatement when I say that he was the balkins elvis. The entire place was packed with crying people and I would say it was a great time but right when I got there my back started tightening up and my knees started killing me. I think I was dehydrated because my mouth was screaming for water right away also. This did not help and the fact that the entire thing was in Macedonian really made it a bit long after a bit. I will say tho that it was a great experience and something I will never forget. Defiantly one of the most interesting birthdays I have ever experienced. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-4479749136773959160?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/4479749136773959160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=4479749136773959160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/4479749136773959160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/4479749136773959160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-birthday.html' title='my birthday'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-924563269889738845</id><published>2008-12-14T16:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T16:20:53.068-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a promise</title><content type='html'>i have not written on here at all. really i dont care for blogs, i see people write them and they are peoples opinions on how if they were to do something they would do it better or some peoples observations on how things are done in a certain way and how this way is not as good as someone should do things. truthfully when i think of a blog i think of a new term being thrown around now that i am in macedonia much more than i heard before... elitist. i have the idea that people dont really care what i think, sometimes this is for the best so why should i write about it. then i figured that most of the people who will take the time to read this may actually like to hear what i think about here. or the may actually like to hear some day to day things that i do. or they may like run on sentences or bad grammar. well for all you lovers of bad grammar and crazy eastern european stories i will try to write more in this lil page on the vast internet. so now begins the mass posting of things i have already written about... &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-924563269889738845?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/924563269889738845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=924563269889738845' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/924563269889738845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/924563269889738845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/12/promise.html' title='a promise'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4616753652237726568.post-6028861932933462736</id><published>2008-11-06T15:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T16:02:02.828-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A bit of patience</title><content type='html'>Well I have just began this blog after two months of procrastination. Chances are you will not have cared these last two months or have already spoken to me a bit of facebook or possibly even skype. Truthfully I am just too lazy to get back to you. Probably because you are not really my true friend. I will say that the last two months have brought many experiences that I would never have thought about going through before. It sounds a bit narcissistic but for coming to a country with the idea to help and then finding a government and economy so ingrained with a networking philosophy that they only will hire their friends and family it is mind-boggling. I am not the only person that has been trying to do this here. I have encountered more than one americans living here who have repeatedly had doors shut on them. As a matter of fact, one nearly got deported because he tried to file for his visa while in the country. So to sum up, this is an easy way for me to talk to all of you and if you care enough for you to find out what exactly I am doing here. Clearly I am new to blogs and I don't really like the fact of telling people to read your ideas and thoughts, but I figure I'll give it a shot. Also lets hope there is not too much bitching and actual good information for you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4616753652237726568-6028861932933462736?l=secondafterpass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/feeds/6028861932933462736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4616753652237726568&amp;postID=6028861932933462736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/6028861932933462736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4616753652237726568/posts/default/6028861932933462736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondafterpass.blogspot.com/2008/11/bit-of-patience.html' title='A bit of patience'/><author><name>secondafterpass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14741588643572947234</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FnYFGvjQO0g/SUrV_26GwBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/H505qdmtF9c/S220/n62100053_30900217_5024.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
