how does one find time for spirituality when one doesn't even find time to eat? how does one find spirituality when one can't really find a place in organized religion (i.e. spirituality) - personally this refers to my dilemma of having been brought up islamic in a country with a population construed of 98% catholics. Can't do the Catholic thing, can't do the Christian thing, period, for do not believe in Jesus being son of God...or trinity and such...thus -> problem being Christian (i.e. commit to going to church every Sunday for an hour or two). Can't do the islamic thing, for have no community I fit in (community -> very important when practicing any kind of religion). Can't do the Bhudda thing, for cannot suddenly change Gods altogether. Darn faith thing all drilled in my mind, so I had to take religion out of the equation altogether. But really, the equation that brought me to my agnostic standpoint is much more complicated than that.
Doesn't matter. Point is that I am having a huge void of spirituality and sense of balance in my life. If one doesn't have religion one at least needs nature, I believe. Nature is a very powerful thing to make us feel closer to God. So, one thing I haven't lost is my believe in God, although I think maybe he might be losing his belief in me...
After all, I'm not giving him/her much to work with lately. Sometimes I'm so out of touch (i.e. take everything in my life for granted) I forget what this is all about. Not that I know what the meaning of life is...... but .... well, one thing I know and that is....we're supposed to live. Live a life. Have a life. Make a good one out of it. And with good, I don't mean get oneself hooked up with all kinds of material shit but good in the sense of ...happiness...generosity...kindness etc.....
Then again, I look at the general human (with all his greed, basic instincts, and need to hate and kill and whatnot ...<-is that a word?) and I wonder,... maybe we're just supposed to live and that's it. That can't be it. It just can't.
Ohmygosh, I just wanted to figure out where to find spirituality in the daily mess that is my life right now and here I go again,.... beginning to philosophize about the question whether mankind is good or evil. This is not blog-material, sis... too complex ...
Anyway, I know where I can get spirituality from ... it is nature. Unfortunately, I haven't sat on a rock and looked at the sky in years so I'm pretty much shot there.
Let's see...what else. I've tried a couple of books. Problem is they have to be pragmatic enough for me to accept them as serious reading material (and that's hard to find or evaluate from cover-judging). Can't do that whole new-age kinda crap.
Last good book I bought in that genre... Letters to a Spiritual Seeker by Henry David Thoureau.
Note how I wrote "bought".... as opposed to "read". One would need time to read as much as one would need time to sit on a darn rock. So I might as well just give up or make some serious time to fill this void. HA, but how?
Not possible. Just not possible. I barely get to sit down to write this blog. So many things I would have liked to jot down, didn't have the time, and then forgot about... it's sad.
oh, well. gotta go.
10,000 things to do.
and it's 11:30pm...
sigh.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Thursday, October 21, 2004
got 5 minutes
quick thoughts I can jot down in 5 minutes... then my crazy day continues..no time to write
came to conclusion that I really have bad service karma. after spa breakdown drama 2 weeks ago (see previous blog somewhere..."bad day anyone") I have now figured out where my excruciating sudden neckpain is coming from. I've traced it back to pre-haircut shampoo-girl, who gave me 2 minute shampoo with head-neck massage from hell (she had iron-clamp-fingers, I swear...so skinny but beware of those freakishly strong hands...well, I guess if you shampoo all day you get to exercise those muscles.). Damn, and they made me tip her 5 bucks, too. ...geez, I remember the days when I wasn't willing to pay much more than that for my haircut itself.
I'm really getting old.
hope that neck thing isn't a permanent injury.
I'm not the suing (sueing, sue-ing?) type. If I were, I should have sued my dentist, who was supposed to change the fillings in my front teeth and instead changed my front teeth for caps without telling me. I kept on wondering what the hell he was doing and then one day I took the mirror while he stepped out and realized he had taken out my teeth. I almost went into shock.
Haven't been to the dentist in 4 years now. Traumatized....
shoot. gotta go.
write later.
came to conclusion that I really have bad service karma. after spa breakdown drama 2 weeks ago (see previous blog somewhere..."bad day anyone") I have now figured out where my excruciating sudden neckpain is coming from. I've traced it back to pre-haircut shampoo-girl, who gave me 2 minute shampoo with head-neck massage from hell (she had iron-clamp-fingers, I swear...so skinny but beware of those freakishly strong hands...well, I guess if you shampoo all day you get to exercise those muscles.). Damn, and they made me tip her 5 bucks, too. ...geez, I remember the days when I wasn't willing to pay much more than that for my haircut itself.
I'm really getting old.
hope that neck thing isn't a permanent injury.
I'm not the suing (sueing, sue-ing?) type. If I were, I should have sued my dentist, who was supposed to change the fillings in my front teeth and instead changed my front teeth for caps without telling me. I kept on wondering what the hell he was doing and then one day I took the mirror while he stepped out and realized he had taken out my teeth. I almost went into shock.
Haven't been to the dentist in 4 years now. Traumatized....
shoot. gotta go.
write later.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
what I got for my birthday (husband collecting minus points)
thought it couldn't get worse after last "mixed tape" (well CD, actually) D made for me...with "all his heart".... and "with all our songs". I don't know what hoochie he was thinking of but none of those songs were "our songs". Looked more like he just collected all slow-jam summer '95 songs he could find on kazaa, burned them on a CD and tried to pass it off as a project he had put thought into.... just for me. sigh.
However, what my dear husband gave me for my birthday WASN'T FUNNY AT ALL!
No card, no diamonds (not that I want diamonds but I'm just saying), nothing fancy saying you look like a hot 20-year old to me...
Nooo...what does he give me....he gives me a bottle of Menopause Relief tablets.
HA. HA. very funny.
However, what my dear husband gave me for my birthday WASN'T FUNNY AT ALL!
No card, no diamonds (not that I want diamonds but I'm just saying), nothing fancy saying you look like a hot 20-year old to me...
Nooo...what does he give me....he gives me a bottle of Menopause Relief tablets.
HA. HA. very funny.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
15 minutes of being 30
ok. so I just turned 30 years old about 17 minutes ago... aaahhh.
over with the twenties. now I'm officially a grown-up, right? No more excuses.
I've gone from anti-wrinkle-craze-ridiculer to having-found-my-first-wrinkle-panic.
people. it's too late. I was gonna bitch about that show "wife-swap" and the scary extremes of characters (especially in last week's show). I was gonna continue on some relationship philosophies and I was gonna bitch about politics....
unfortunately ... I am too tired to even get out one more sentence that makes sense...
later... i'll try.
over with the twenties. now I'm officially a grown-up, right? No more excuses.
I've gone from anti-wrinkle-craze-ridiculer to having-found-my-first-wrinkle-panic.
people. it's too late. I was gonna bitch about that show "wife-swap" and the scary extremes of characters (especially in last week's show). I was gonna continue on some relationship philosophies and I was gonna bitch about politics....
unfortunately ... I am too tired to even get out one more sentence that makes sense...
later... i'll try.
Sunday, October 10, 2004
relationships. what for?
can someone explain to me what relationships are good for? Is it me or aren't they just mostly a pain in the ass for all involved parties ... most of the time? I hope it's me, cause if not then that's one triste outlook for any potential future relationships (i.e why waste time in a relationship ever again?).
Isn't your partner supposed to be the person you're supposed to be able to count on when you need to and when there is nobody else to count on anymore?
A vague memory of my old - much more independent and purer - self reminds me of the fact that this is a very bad expectation to have of your partner, for it will inevitably lead to disappointment (at least, in most cases).
In the beginning (and with beginning I mean, a couple of years...for it's been 9 years this past Summer since D and I first started going out) I never expected anything of him. I was my own person and that was that. No bitterness attached to this perception.... just life as I saw it. I always paid for my own way (didn't like when a man paid for my food/drink/etc.) and never expected help in whatever I planned, thus never was in for any disappointments.
Once again, ... living here has changed me.
I've begun to expect certain things of certain people (not because they fulfill them but because the mere presence of the expectation is a given by surroundings. ... I remember, the first time someone asked me why my husband isn't doing this or that for me...and then "good thing you have a husband to help you out with that" ... etc. etc. etc. I never realized that the expectation of help didn't change anything in the actual situation but my attitude. And that wasn't a good thing. I became dependent. I begun to wait for stuff to happen I would have done on my own in a minute. And then... when they wouldn't get done I became frustrated and resentful. It's been a vicious cycle. ... Dario's "Honey-please-do-list" I once compiled is a complete waste of paper. The items on that list are sometimes over a year old and certain things I didn't even bother putting on the reworked (i.e. edited) list anymore (e.g. things I can't wait for... floors need to be mopped, bathrooms need cleaning, no matter who's turn it is...as a result, Dario hasn't cleaned a toilet in like a year and a half).
Now, why don't I just do all that shit myself?
I used to do stuff myself (put up shelves, hang pictures, troubleshoot my computer, fix the VCR, etc.) why have I become such a hussy? Granted I have no more time to do any such simple task as to brush my own hair sometimes, I stopped being self-sufficient way before my kids entered the picture.
Of course, now that they're here and there is no time for anything AND I am still hoping D would actually take a look at that list one of these days NOTHING gets done anymore.
So tell me again, why are we in relationships then? If not to help each other out on all kinds of levels? Why do we put ourselves through so much emotional shit? For the sake of familiar intimacy? Companionship?? But then that's not what I call companionship. Wouldn't a companion be more like a friend... so ... why struggle through a relationship then?
I mean, not for nothing have I always put as much emphasis on my friendships as on my family relations... if not more so. Friends can last forever ... relationships mostly don't ... and if they do, you're lucky. Isn't it so?
soo tired.
if he could only see how much I need his support now more than ever. this whole situation is killing me. back at work full-time. both kids by myself when I get home from a day often without even so much as a lunch break. D at school every night until almost 10pm. loads of housework and left-over regular work after the kids are finally down (putting down 2 kids under 3 ....at the same time....isn't an easy task.). no life of my own. tense neck, cramped up back, and a chronic stomach ache. It's not fucking easy to then be very diplomatic, although lately I've been making a real effort to actively work on some issues we've been having. D, however, misinterprets my attempts to talk about certain things with resolutions in mind as some sort of nagging and his favorite reply to anything I would like to talk about nowadays is "let it go already." or today the nicer version "shut the fuck up already." ... now see, I can't be talked to that way. Things turn off there. I might have lived in the ghetto for almost 10 years now but I refuse to become that ghetto.
Respect is something you must not lose in a relationship or things will fall apart.
They will.
It's sad because I know we have love. It's just buried somewhere right now and we would have to dig for it (i.e. work on the relationship a bit. do some maintenance. ...but I don't have the energy to be the initiator anymore. the one to pull us out of the deep again. I don't have the energy and I'm afraid of what might happen now...I'm afraid because I have kids now...it's not about me anymore...I can't just say..."oh, I don't need a man to be happy," which honestly I don't ...but my kids need one...and that's their father. D is, after all, a really good dad.)
I know now why drinking is prohibited in Islam. Cause one way or the other we will probably all reach this point where we just wanna be drunk as often as possible to make it through. Good thing I was raised with this very strong resistance towards drinking otherwise, I'd be trying to be drunk at least by noon ;)
And,...since I'm nursing...I can't smoke or ANYTHING.
It sucks to be sober all the time. ;)
Isn't your partner supposed to be the person you're supposed to be able to count on when you need to and when there is nobody else to count on anymore?
A vague memory of my old - much more independent and purer - self reminds me of the fact that this is a very bad expectation to have of your partner, for it will inevitably lead to disappointment (at least, in most cases).
In the beginning (and with beginning I mean, a couple of years...for it's been 9 years this past Summer since D and I first started going out) I never expected anything of him. I was my own person and that was that. No bitterness attached to this perception.... just life as I saw it. I always paid for my own way (didn't like when a man paid for my food/drink/etc.) and never expected help in whatever I planned, thus never was in for any disappointments.
Once again, ... living here has changed me.
I've begun to expect certain things of certain people (not because they fulfill them but because the mere presence of the expectation is a given by surroundings. ... I remember, the first time someone asked me why my husband isn't doing this or that for me...and then "good thing you have a husband to help you out with that" ... etc. etc. etc. I never realized that the expectation of help didn't change anything in the actual situation but my attitude. And that wasn't a good thing. I became dependent. I begun to wait for stuff to happen I would have done on my own in a minute. And then... when they wouldn't get done I became frustrated and resentful. It's been a vicious cycle. ... Dario's "Honey-please-do-list" I once compiled is a complete waste of paper. The items on that list are sometimes over a year old and certain things I didn't even bother putting on the reworked (i.e. edited) list anymore (e.g. things I can't wait for... floors need to be mopped, bathrooms need cleaning, no matter who's turn it is...as a result, Dario hasn't cleaned a toilet in like a year and a half).
Now, why don't I just do all that shit myself?
I used to do stuff myself (put up shelves, hang pictures, troubleshoot my computer, fix the VCR, etc.) why have I become such a hussy? Granted I have no more time to do any such simple task as to brush my own hair sometimes, I stopped being self-sufficient way before my kids entered the picture.
Of course, now that they're here and there is no time for anything AND I am still hoping D would actually take a look at that list one of these days NOTHING gets done anymore.
So tell me again, why are we in relationships then? If not to help each other out on all kinds of levels? Why do we put ourselves through so much emotional shit? For the sake of familiar intimacy? Companionship?? But then that's not what I call companionship. Wouldn't a companion be more like a friend... so ... why struggle through a relationship then?
I mean, not for nothing have I always put as much emphasis on my friendships as on my family relations... if not more so. Friends can last forever ... relationships mostly don't ... and if they do, you're lucky. Isn't it so?
soo tired.
if he could only see how much I need his support now more than ever. this whole situation is killing me. back at work full-time. both kids by myself when I get home from a day often without even so much as a lunch break. D at school every night until almost 10pm. loads of housework and left-over regular work after the kids are finally down (putting down 2 kids under 3 ....at the same time....isn't an easy task.). no life of my own. tense neck, cramped up back, and a chronic stomach ache. It's not fucking easy to then be very diplomatic, although lately I've been making a real effort to actively work on some issues we've been having. D, however, misinterprets my attempts to talk about certain things with resolutions in mind as some sort of nagging and his favorite reply to anything I would like to talk about nowadays is "let it go already." or today the nicer version "shut the fuck up already." ... now see, I can't be talked to that way. Things turn off there. I might have lived in the ghetto for almost 10 years now but I refuse to become that ghetto.
Respect is something you must not lose in a relationship or things will fall apart.
They will.
It's sad because I know we have love. It's just buried somewhere right now and we would have to dig for it (i.e. work on the relationship a bit. do some maintenance. ...but I don't have the energy to be the initiator anymore. the one to pull us out of the deep again. I don't have the energy and I'm afraid of what might happen now...I'm afraid because I have kids now...it's not about me anymore...I can't just say..."oh, I don't need a man to be happy," which honestly I don't ...but my kids need one...and that's their father. D is, after all, a really good dad.)
I know now why drinking is prohibited in Islam. Cause one way or the other we will probably all reach this point where we just wanna be drunk as often as possible to make it through. Good thing I was raised with this very strong resistance towards drinking otherwise, I'd be trying to be drunk at least by noon ;)
And,...since I'm nursing...I can't smoke or ANYTHING.
It sucks to be sober all the time. ;)
Saturday, October 02, 2004
are urbanites doomed to become antisocial?
the antisocial act I pulled today bordered on pathetic.
maybe I acted the way I did because I was getting myself through the day with barely 2 or 3 hours of (INTERRUPTED) sleep but my old - austrian&well-mannered self would have pulled me to the side for some serious scolding (if it weren't buried so deep in my new ego-centric been-in-nyc-too-long self).
So, anyway... as the day passed by (me mostly being an uproductive crank-head) I had repeatedly expressed my reluctance to have any "guests" over tonight, for Dario kept on mentioning that an old roomate of ours (who somehow keeps herself in the picture...no comment here. it's a story in itself.) was going to maybe pass by with her husband and kid, both of whom are actually really nice. daugther - nice kid & husband - TV-addicted but otherwise very nice dude.
Anyway, when the bell rang in the late afternoon I began to panic. Oh no, D didn't make up any excuses on why today wasn't a good day for visiting. So I ran. Literally. I grabbed my bag, a book, a netflix movie, and dashed out the door shouting, "ok, D. I'll be upstairs then (at R.s house)". Maia in anticipation of visitors tried to follow me into the hallway but since I hadn't had the time to grab a key I couldn't just lock the door assuring her safety.
So, there I am in the hallway, my eyes frantically oscillating between elevator floor status display and Maia at door, threatening her like I would Trouble (with stomping my foot on the floor and instructing with deep, authoritative voice to go and stay inside. Close the door in front of her, again and run back to the emergency stairs. Stay there until elevator hits our floor and peek back to make sure Maia who, of course, has opened the door again isn't letting in strangers but in fact our unexpected guests. I hear familiar voices and silently close the emergency exit stair door.
Knock on R's door with request to accept refugee status of mine. She accepts and I get to plomp myself on the couch with my book.
20 minutes later the phone rings.
Turns out, Dario and our guests thought I am in the bedroom with screaming baby (trying the cry-out method or something) until D finally goes to check why the baby is so unusually hysterical. Finds Maia by herself in bedroom with baby (on bed), applying lotion all over her little sister. Eyes and everything.
I drop everything and run downstairs.
Baby seems ok. Her hair is quite funky looking and her eyes a bit reddened and she still seems to be recovering from traumatic Maia-balming but otherwise all is fine.
Maia is crying on her time-out chair. Poor thing. Didn't mean bad but explains that she just wanted baby to be "all cleean and beauutiful".
I run down "things-not-to-do-with-the-baby" with her again and let her go.
So much for my pretend-I'm working on co-op board stuff with Rosa. Have to stay now and watch super-loud cops, america's most wanted and the apprentice, for tv-addicted hubby cannot and must not miss any show, never mind the fact that he's engaging in supposed social event ... visit at our place. but who am I to judge, right ;)
maybe I acted the way I did because I was getting myself through the day with barely 2 or 3 hours of (INTERRUPTED) sleep but my old - austrian&well-mannered self would have pulled me to the side for some serious scolding (if it weren't buried so deep in my new ego-centric been-in-nyc-too-long self).
So, anyway... as the day passed by (me mostly being an uproductive crank-head) I had repeatedly expressed my reluctance to have any "guests" over tonight, for Dario kept on mentioning that an old roomate of ours (who somehow keeps herself in the picture...no comment here. it's a story in itself.) was going to maybe pass by with her husband and kid, both of whom are actually really nice. daugther - nice kid & husband - TV-addicted but otherwise very nice dude.
Anyway, when the bell rang in the late afternoon I began to panic. Oh no, D didn't make up any excuses on why today wasn't a good day for visiting. So I ran. Literally. I grabbed my bag, a book, a netflix movie, and dashed out the door shouting, "ok, D. I'll be upstairs then (at R.s house)". Maia in anticipation of visitors tried to follow me into the hallway but since I hadn't had the time to grab a key I couldn't just lock the door assuring her safety.
So, there I am in the hallway, my eyes frantically oscillating between elevator floor status display and Maia at door, threatening her like I would Trouble (with stomping my foot on the floor and instructing with deep, authoritative voice to go and stay inside. Close the door in front of her, again and run back to the emergency stairs. Stay there until elevator hits our floor and peek back to make sure Maia who, of course, has opened the door again isn't letting in strangers but in fact our unexpected guests. I hear familiar voices and silently close the emergency exit stair door.
Knock on R's door with request to accept refugee status of mine. She accepts and I get to plomp myself on the couch with my book.
20 minutes later the phone rings.
Turns out, Dario and our guests thought I am in the bedroom with screaming baby (trying the cry-out method or something) until D finally goes to check why the baby is so unusually hysterical. Finds Maia by herself in bedroom with baby (on bed), applying lotion all over her little sister. Eyes and everything.
I drop everything and run downstairs.
Baby seems ok. Her hair is quite funky looking and her eyes a bit reddened and she still seems to be recovering from traumatic Maia-balming but otherwise all is fine.
Maia is crying on her time-out chair. Poor thing. Didn't mean bad but explains that she just wanted baby to be "all cleean and beauutiful".
I run down "things-not-to-do-with-the-baby" with her again and let her go.
So much for my pretend-I'm working on co-op board stuff with Rosa. Have to stay now and watch super-loud cops, america's most wanted and the apprentice, for tv-addicted hubby cannot and must not miss any show, never mind the fact that he's engaging in supposed social event ... visit at our place. but who am I to judge, right ;)
Friday, October 01, 2004
bad day anyone?
my bad days aren't your average bad days... they are usually a succession of unlucky accidents, which ultimately turn the day into a self-fulfilling prophecy, or so I theorize, for I just cannot believe the way things go when I have a "bad" day.
Generally, I am laughing out loud my mid-afternoon because the turn of things are just too ridiculous to be really happening.
Today...so far...a quick run-down on what's been happening.
wake up late. get kids ready for babysitter and school, respectively. by the time D is ready to leave the house (and take Maia with him to school), Maia has fully undressed herself again and sits happily on her bed announcing she isn't going. don't have time to argue. tell D to leave and I'll take her in. remind myself, not to forget family-day at her school today. go check flyer for event details. notice was supposed to make home-cooked dish as contribution to event. check fridge for any kind of left-overs not more than three days old. no luck. make mental note: throw out spaghetti from last week just sighted in back of fridge.
get on computer quickly to check workload and mail to give impression I'm starting early as opposed to real-time estimate of serious settlement in front of PC probably way past 11a.m.
have to get Maia to school, engage in family-event a bit, AND make it to 12 o'clock appointment I secured the day before at 57th St. super-haute-couture-can't-afford-services-but-have-giftcertificate-spa. (note: had left-over balance on gift-certificate dating back to pregnancy. $35.- remaining. looked through spa-booklet and realized have to add about 60.- to these $35 to be able to pay for any kind of service at this nyc upper east side place. would love to have booked "count-down to butter-massage" but can only afford "30.min.rapid.rub" <- actual names of bliss spa massages. decide I deserve...and actually need massage, for knot in my back is now the size of small state.)
Anyway, let me change this telegram-kinda writing style cause I'm losing track of the beginning of my sentences.
So, at 11 a.m. I shut down computer, realizing I'll be late if I don't get my butt out the house. Of course, it's too late now to get Maia to school and wait until she's ready to be peeled off my leg (still adjusting to preK), so I drop her off at the beloved babysitter instead.
Jump into the elevator, which goes up and down a couple of times first, before finally leaving me in the lobby. Run into Rosa, who has almost as many bags as I do (don't know why I have so many bags..let's see. handbag. plasticbag with stuff that doesn't fit in handbag. babybjoern baby carrier, which has been recalled and needs to be returned, outgoing mail, and a cup of coffee I dream of drinking at some point during this hectic morning - don't know at that point, of course, that I won't.) I manage to free up two fingers to help Rosa carry one of her bags. Pick super heavy and super-thin plastic bag which, with all the other things in my hands, I cannot keep off the floor. So, I make it down the hallway, bag semi-touching the floor but then it rips and all insides are now strewn in front of exit door. bag of sugar, mayonnaise, ketchup, etc. I try to find replacement bag in my car, Rosa urges me to get out already as not to miss appointment.
So, I am racing to the train-station. Planning to leave car somewhere parked around there. No parking. Alternate Side Parking rules in effect? ... Continue driving south to find parking along the way. Decide to get off very traffic-heavy Jerome Ave. and take a parallel route. Of course, I end up somewhere elevated, full of dead-ends ghetto-looking kind of area. See the 4 train at bottom of hill. Call D at office, to look up Alternate Side Parking rules, for I notice people have still not moved their cars. Dude pulls up next to me with music blasting SO loud, my van is vibrating and I cannot hear a thing Dario or even I am saying. Have to wait 'til ghetto-brotha moves. D announces "no ASP rules in effect today". Wish I had known earlier. Park car next to drug-dealer guy standing at top of stairs leading down to Jerome. Run down eight hundred steps to 176 St. station. Turns out the station I picked to enter subway is closed for very active, fire-sparks flying maintenance. Run back up eight hundred steps, now feeling like a thousand; creating new curse-word with every step I climb; drug-dealer guy actually makes me feel better by giving me sympathetic smile, but not good enough to hold up my cool, for when I then finally give up and call spa to cancel I am being reminded of policy and enforcement of policy that I still have to pay for full service. I break into tears and hang up. Mad at myself for crying about missed spa-date. Remind myself, crying about whole bunch of shit -> over-exhaustion. irony of me stressing to get to appointment for relaxation. 1/2 relaxation with 1 hour stressfull commute each way. wonder why I'm so stupid. want to call spa back and tell them that I'm no 5th-ave-got-too-much-money kinda costumer but will actually be quite hurt by losing 60.-, or in this case 100.- for a service I never actually received. What kind of costumer service is that? Isn't it the spa's sole function to get rid of the physical stress build-up in my life as opposed to adding to it?
Sit in my car wondering who I could call to calm me down. Want to call Rosa. Tell myself:
"don't you dare call Rosa...she has a son with leukemia who just got back from yet another stay at the hospital...she has a full-time job, is a single-mom and at the moment probably just as stressed as you are." boom. I'm back to reality. Stupid little problems of mine. Get over it.
"Don't see you crying when you receive $100 parking ticket" (although, I must say that's not true, ...if the day has been really bad I might crack at that moment of ticket issuance. $100 bucks is a LOT of money to be throwing around, dammit...I better be getting some kind of pleasure out of it).
So, I decide... let me just hop into the post-office and return that baby-bjoern carrier, which has been recalled by the manufacturer. had been contemplating for a while, whether I shouldn't just keep using it and save myself the hassle but then reminded myself that if Nayla does fall out I won't be able to live with the guilt. Parking meter swallows my quarter, but of course, doesn't show the receipt of money and keeps blinking "0:00" time left straight into my face. decide I won't take it up with the meter but do kick and punch it a couple of times, just in case. no luck. no "FAIL" annoucement, so it'll just continue appearing like an expired meter (mentally prepare for ticket).
At post-office I stand in line for 20 minutes and realize at last moment I don't know which address to send baby carrier to. Call company. automated message: "go to blah.blah.com and request self-addressed envelope. blah blah blah." Step out of line, which I have now been waiting on FOR NOTHING...like so many things during this morning.
Return home, now no time for lunch, for have wasted time driving around throwing fits, and such. Eat bowl of left-over chicken-rice with no chicken left inside. Dig for ketchup and BBQ sauce in fridge door to add some flavor. Maple Syrup glass bottle slides through shelf holder and shatters into a hundred pieces on my kitchen floor. Syrup and glass everywhere.
I give up. Day ... you have beaten me. I am going back to bed.
Of course, can't because have double-workload on me (-> colleague on 1-month wedding/honeymoon vacation) and need to sit my ass in front of computer already.
Clean up syrup and sit into office. Take a sip of cold, watered down morning coffee, eat ketchup rice and begin weeding through e-mail. 2 minutes later, Rosa knocks on my door to emergency baby-sit her 2-year old son. No problem, bring it on. ;)
Generally, I am laughing out loud my mid-afternoon because the turn of things are just too ridiculous to be really happening.
Today...so far...a quick run-down on what's been happening.
wake up late. get kids ready for babysitter and school, respectively. by the time D is ready to leave the house (and take Maia with him to school), Maia has fully undressed herself again and sits happily on her bed announcing she isn't going. don't have time to argue. tell D to leave and I'll take her in. remind myself, not to forget family-day at her school today. go check flyer for event details. notice was supposed to make home-cooked dish as contribution to event. check fridge for any kind of left-overs not more than three days old. no luck. make mental note: throw out spaghetti from last week just sighted in back of fridge.
get on computer quickly to check workload and mail to give impression I'm starting early as opposed to real-time estimate of serious settlement in front of PC probably way past 11a.m.
have to get Maia to school, engage in family-event a bit, AND make it to 12 o'clock appointment I secured the day before at 57th St. super-haute-couture-can't-afford-services-but-have-giftcertificate-spa. (note: had left-over balance on gift-certificate dating back to pregnancy. $35.- remaining. looked through spa-booklet and realized have to add about 60.- to these $35 to be able to pay for any kind of service at this nyc upper east side place. would love to have booked "count-down to butter-massage" but can only afford "30.min.rapid.rub" <- actual names of bliss spa massages. decide I deserve...and actually need massage, for knot in my back is now the size of small state.)
Anyway, let me change this telegram-kinda writing style cause I'm losing track of the beginning of my sentences.
So, at 11 a.m. I shut down computer, realizing I'll be late if I don't get my butt out the house. Of course, it's too late now to get Maia to school and wait until she's ready to be peeled off my leg (still adjusting to preK), so I drop her off at the beloved babysitter instead.
Jump into the elevator, which goes up and down a couple of times first, before finally leaving me in the lobby. Run into Rosa, who has almost as many bags as I do (don't know why I have so many bags..let's see. handbag. plasticbag with stuff that doesn't fit in handbag. babybjoern baby carrier, which has been recalled and needs to be returned, outgoing mail, and a cup of coffee I dream of drinking at some point during this hectic morning - don't know at that point, of course, that I won't.) I manage to free up two fingers to help Rosa carry one of her bags. Pick super heavy and super-thin plastic bag which, with all the other things in my hands, I cannot keep off the floor. So, I make it down the hallway, bag semi-touching the floor but then it rips and all insides are now strewn in front of exit door. bag of sugar, mayonnaise, ketchup, etc. I try to find replacement bag in my car, Rosa urges me to get out already as not to miss appointment.
So, I am racing to the train-station. Planning to leave car somewhere parked around there. No parking. Alternate Side Parking rules in effect? ... Continue driving south to find parking along the way. Decide to get off very traffic-heavy Jerome Ave. and take a parallel route. Of course, I end up somewhere elevated, full of dead-ends ghetto-looking kind of area. See the 4 train at bottom of hill. Call D at office, to look up Alternate Side Parking rules, for I notice people have still not moved their cars. Dude pulls up next to me with music blasting SO loud, my van is vibrating and I cannot hear a thing Dario or even I am saying. Have to wait 'til ghetto-brotha moves. D announces "no ASP rules in effect today". Wish I had known earlier. Park car next to drug-dealer guy standing at top of stairs leading down to Jerome. Run down eight hundred steps to 176 St. station. Turns out the station I picked to enter subway is closed for very active, fire-sparks flying maintenance. Run back up eight hundred steps, now feeling like a thousand; creating new curse-word with every step I climb; drug-dealer guy actually makes me feel better by giving me sympathetic smile, but not good enough to hold up my cool, for when I then finally give up and call spa to cancel I am being reminded of policy and enforcement of policy that I still have to pay for full service. I break into tears and hang up. Mad at myself for crying about missed spa-date. Remind myself, crying about whole bunch of shit -> over-exhaustion. irony of me stressing to get to appointment for relaxation. 1/2 relaxation with 1 hour stressfull commute each way. wonder why I'm so stupid. want to call spa back and tell them that I'm no 5th-ave-got-too-much-money kinda costumer but will actually be quite hurt by losing 60.-, or in this case 100.- for a service I never actually received. What kind of costumer service is that? Isn't it the spa's sole function to get rid of the physical stress build-up in my life as opposed to adding to it?
Sit in my car wondering who I could call to calm me down. Want to call Rosa. Tell myself:
"don't you dare call Rosa...she has a son with leukemia who just got back from yet another stay at the hospital...she has a full-time job, is a single-mom and at the moment probably just as stressed as you are." boom. I'm back to reality. Stupid little problems of mine. Get over it.
"Don't see you crying when you receive $100 parking ticket" (although, I must say that's not true, ...if the day has been really bad I might crack at that moment of ticket issuance. $100 bucks is a LOT of money to be throwing around, dammit...I better be getting some kind of pleasure out of it).
So, I decide... let me just hop into the post-office and return that baby-bjoern carrier, which has been recalled by the manufacturer. had been contemplating for a while, whether I shouldn't just keep using it and save myself the hassle but then reminded myself that if Nayla does fall out I won't be able to live with the guilt. Parking meter swallows my quarter, but of course, doesn't show the receipt of money and keeps blinking "0:00" time left straight into my face. decide I won't take it up with the meter but do kick and punch it a couple of times, just in case. no luck. no "FAIL" annoucement, so it'll just continue appearing like an expired meter (mentally prepare for ticket).
At post-office I stand in line for 20 minutes and realize at last moment I don't know which address to send baby carrier to. Call company. automated message: "go to blah.blah.com and request self-addressed envelope. blah blah blah." Step out of line, which I have now been waiting on FOR NOTHING...like so many things during this morning.
Return home, now no time for lunch, for have wasted time driving around throwing fits, and such. Eat bowl of left-over chicken-rice with no chicken left inside. Dig for ketchup and BBQ sauce in fridge door to add some flavor. Maple Syrup glass bottle slides through shelf holder and shatters into a hundred pieces on my kitchen floor. Syrup and glass everywhere.
I give up. Day ... you have beaten me. I am going back to bed.
Of course, can't because have double-workload on me (-> colleague on 1-month wedding/honeymoon vacation) and need to sit my ass in front of computer already.
Clean up syrup and sit into office. Take a sip of cold, watered down morning coffee, eat ketchup rice and begin weeding through e-mail. 2 minutes later, Rosa knocks on my door to emergency baby-sit her 2-year old son. No problem, bring it on. ;)
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