We went to the Virginia International Racetrack last week - Kotmish and I, and amazingly, I wasn't bored to death: maybe just a little :) I learned a lot about racing - such as the importance of having clean lines on the track, being consistent, being courteous, no target fixation (this is critical), being fast is not the goal, especially if you are a beginner such as Kotmish is, you need to sacrifice some speed for riding the right way, and if the observer bikers who drive along with you like your performance then you are bumped, i.e. you are promoted to the Intermediate group, and then to the Advanced. Respecting the sport, in other words not being overconfident is paramount, or you may crash. Unfortunately I witnessed at least 5 crashes with my own naked eyes, and there were a dozen others. But Kotmish and his friends told me that this was not normal, they never saw so many crashes before. I noticed just one girl on the track, and she was doing quite well, not the fastest but following all the rules, and she was Intermediate.
We spent two nights at a nearby hotel, we were early birds - waking up at 5:30 a.m., we all (Kotmish, his friends and me) met at 6:00 a.m. at the lobby, where breakfast and coffee was already ready for us. We woke to the first rays of sunshine. The second day - we woke up very early, but there was no sunshine. While we were sleeping that night, we heard thunderstorms and it started to pour down cats and dogs around 4 a.m., so first thing we did when we woke up was to watch the weather channel, and the news was as bad as it could get: %60 of rain, with severe thunderstorms. This meant the day at the race track would be cancelled. In fact, it was raining as we were looking at hotel's beautiful patio with sad eyes. Still, it was a serene summer morning. I could almost feel the grass and greens around me sigh, in the cool of the dawn, I felt for a moment this was the best day of the entire summer, since I never wake up that early and thus miss the chance of seeing drops of dew on the grass. Usually, by the time I wake up the sun is so high up in the sky, it is nothing but yet another freaking hot day.
Anyway, we got lucky that day - eventually it stopped raining and the clouds slowly dispersed by noon. While some bikers left because they felt the day was ruined, most stayed, determined to race - we stayed. As a result, it was one of Kotmish's most productive performances on the track - he almost got bumped from B to I, but this is another story.
Besides that, I am quite busy these days looking for a nice 3 level townhome to rent - hopefully we are finally becoming a large family this year and will stay like that!

This is a poem dedicated to Bozcaada (Tenedos), an Aegean island for which Heredot said: "God created Bozcaada so that we live longer."

Bozcaada. A place of sorrow, a place of joy.
Somewhere far far away, a piece of land where we came together
the three of us, the lonely, the desperate and the hopeless. We came together and the wind was blowing, and just like waves barely touching their mother-land before returning to the sea, we touched each other briefly and for a painful moment our souls were one, three strangers looking into the endless sea, looking for an answer - why and when did we grow strangers to each other,
and when is that distant wave going to come back to us, to touch the sunburnt sand, and this time not with scorn and not with indifference, but with love? Love that only exists in books...and in the heart of a mother.

I am back - not sure how I feel about it, my apartment is a mess and I am not sure I can deal with all the chores by myself. And this time I will try not to be critical (but I can't help it being a student of Bulent Aksoy). I don't even mind the deadly heat wave, tand on the good side, I can say I even missed the order here - order as in normal traffic, lack of chaos and absurdity. I realized being critical is a constant in the lives of people like me, most of my friends do it, and life is too short to try to crticize everything we believe is wrong with this world. So, I dedicate this post to all those light hearted blissful folks who live like squirrels (famous Turkish poet Orhan Veli's recipe of a happy life). I guess if I were a squirrel I would criticize all the same, the tree for not beeing tall enough, the nuts for not being soft enough, my fur for not being furry enough etc. Let's just live. Excuse me for a moment, I am going out to drown my consciousness in the river, and pick a tree to live on, will be back in a sec. The girl who doesn't want to burn anymore.