how does she know who I am?

The radio is playing that "teenage dirtbag" song from a few years ago, I don't remember who sang it.

Massive headache this morning, between not sleeping, waking Gene up in the middle of the night with a weird phone call, and class being frustration incarnate. Sometimes I feel as though I am doing well, but am beginning to think it unrealistic to have serviceable Czech within a few weeks. Svůj is going to be the end of me, I fear. How I hate grammar. A pity we don't live in the future, with implants and tape learning and all those things I spent my childhood reading about.

David, the British fellow, has been sharing wildly entertaining stories about his time in Kazakhstan and Russia. I am learning a few new solid Russian insults to use when the mood strikes.

It is really quite horrifying, the extent of poverty and misery present in that part of the world. Have come to the conclusion that the Soviets were the worst builders ever. This cheap concrete crumbles with a few decades.