I'm not what you think I am.
This is the point in the story you tell yourself where it makes sense to check your premises. All your favorite stereotypes about masochistic, subservient homeschooling moms should be left at the door when reading this quiddity. If we can agree that everyone has their own contribution to make to the revolution, then accept this as mine.
If you don't like it or it upsets your cozy mental categories, that's okay. As Benjamin Franklin pointed out, "When everyone is thinking alike, no one is thinking."
Alina came to Alabama from communist Romania with a banjo on her knee at the all-knowing age of three.
While her friends were learning how to slobber out the correct “cain’t”, she wore red jeans to Catholic school and learned from the nuns that communism was thick as blood and showed up in the color of your genes. Or jeans. It wasn't quite as clear as the glass windows of the Popemobile.
So she wrote speeches for her next door neighbor to deliver to the local chapter of the D.A.R.- long, windbagged proclamations of hot and heavy patriotic ardor, stories of generals and saints who hated all the right people for all the godly reasons. She studied foreign policy, and found herself working a foreign policy internship on September 11, 2011. Needless to say, she learned alot about how little Americans know about Islam and the Middle East. And she tried to take a Sikh cab whenever possible- because many DC residents confused Sikhs with Salafis.
She started blogging to stop a war. Obviously, the generals had better plans. But none of these plans included an exit plan for Iraq. So Alina's country continues to fight wars without end and she keeps right on typing. What started as a protest floundered its way into a habit.
Eventually, the foreign policy arena grew too small for Alina's diplomacy-oriented proposals. Like any self-respecting post-second wave feminist, she married a man whom she prefers to call a "partner". Then she hitched up a horse and carriage and moved back to the dis-integrated state known to many as Alabama.
These days, Alina practices the fine southern art of sauntering around aimlessly with her three unschooled children hoping to attract the eye of that handsome city slicker she married. She also tries to steer clear of plastic surgeons, football, and self-help books, which deprives her of much-needed common ground.
Photo taken by Constantino Diaz-Duran.
As a stay-at-home feminist, she refuses to keep more than one room of the house tidy at a time and maintains a strict “no cleaning on weekdays” policy. This explains why the family often camps out in the backyard at night.
Alina hopes Wendell Berry will forgive her for this one transgression against her otherwise impeccable Berry-ness. Her American dream lacks a slot for career or Protestant work ethic. This is only a problem when it comes to conversing with fellow Americans or aspiring immigrants.
She tries to make up for many things by serving on the board of a local waterkeeper group and leading a local F.O.R. chapter. Because peace and reconciliation are good things, no matter what political parties one prefers to frequent. Since nonprofiteering remains low on the list of American aspirations, Alina sometimes tries to make a "profit" from selling things she sews from other old things she has torn apart. A repugnance for patterns and assembly-line procedures prevents her from producing "products" which others might find worthy of consumption.
Being a dilettante does not receive the respect it deserves in Alina’s hometown of Tuscaloosa, Alabama. That’s why Alina plans to join the Green Party this year.
When she isn’t admiring the sublime curvature of her rather buxom nose, Alina likes to force her children to dress as early American settlers and scream “slow down” at old men in cars inching through the neighborhood.
If you'd like to contact Alina for none of the reasons above, email her at rainscented (at) gmail (dot) com. For some reason, she really likes most homo sapiens sapiens and delights in the individuals as opposed to the rather destructive species.
