Letters to the Editor
Rumorosa
Published Letters: 3
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it happened to me too
[Read the article: I'm wasting my semester abroad watching TV in my apartment]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]For my semester abroad, I lived in a small Russian town in the middle of nowhere. I had never been out of the US before. The place was not at all what I had expected despite studying Russian history and language for two years beforehand. It was rather hostile and impenetrable (also, I felt, horribly limiting for single women). I was miserable for much of the time and counted down the days to my return. I couldn't understand the TV, but at first I did spend a lot of time indoors reading as many books in English as I could get my hands on.
After a while I realized (as you have) that I was wasting my time, playing it safe. So I started walking around, planning mini-adventures for myself around town. I experienced a lot that was strange and bizarre just by walking down the street for hours toward the nuclear reactor in the distance, or by hopping on a train at the last minute for a weekend in Latvia, a country I knew nothing about. I also lived with an eccentric old Russian lady who was quite a character, if a bit overbearing at times.
About a year after I returned home, I realized that the semester HAD been a turning point in my whole life, just not in the way I had anticipated. I was never quite the same person afterward. I think and compare situations to "when I was living in Russia..." all the time. It took me a while to process the experience and figure out what it meant to me, but now I am translating my massive semester abroad journal into a memoir, collecting all the stories that have amused and horrified my friends.
If language issues are a barrier to friendship (possibly not if you can understand the TV), keep in mind you will improve your skills as time goes on ONLY if you make an effort to speak with others.
Also, if it's cold where you are, remember that spring is right around the corner, and you might feel less like hanging out in your apartment when the weather improves!
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what a bore!
[Read the article: The best-laid plans]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]There's a whole subgenre of articles involving a journalist who tries something "wacky" (like riding a bike to work every day, eating food grown within a 50-mile radius of home, etc.), makes self-deprecating remarks about his or her failures to achieve the goal, then with a happy sigh returns to the previous lifestyle.
This story fits the pattern exactly--yawn. Most of my own acquaintances are more interesting than Sloane Crosley, who I can only assume has a family contact in the publishing industry.
Also, Salon made the unusual choice of posting the writer's photograph alongside this story. I have no idea what the regular Salon writers look like (beyond their caricatures), but as soon as a New England girl in pearls writes a sex story--bam! There she is. Really classy way to attract ad revenue, Salon!
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a good read
[Read the article: "Why do these men want to coach little girls?" ]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]I just finished reading an advance copy of the book.
(1) About 1% of the book is remotely related to sexual abuse (mostly relating to rumors and uncomfortable feelings), and yet this is what screams from the Salon headline.
(2) For people defending gymnastics: Jennifer Sey writes of warm, positive experiences at the gym early on in her career. It's only after she turns totally pro and moves away from home to start training more seriously that the real brutality begins. At this point (for her), the sport stopped being about validation and fun and was all about winning--to the point where Sey herself cannot even stop the train because so many others (her parents and coaches) are counting on it for their own ride to glory.
(3) As she says, this was the 1980's. Eating disorders were not as well-understood back then and the gymnastics scene was much different.
(4) The most painful part of this story is the short time frame available to elite female gymnasts. They train for years only to peak at age 15 or 16, at which point it becomes harder and harder to maintain a little girl's body. Some are lucky enough to have those years coincide with the Olympic Games. The luckiest retire with a fistful of medals, only to have to rebuild their entire identities and deal with sports-related injuries for the rest of their lives.
This is a vivid and educational memoir--very honest without basking in scandalousness. I will never watch gymnastics on TV again without considering the the sacrifices and commitment of each girl.