Friday, September 02, 2005

my last blog entry

I knew it; I shouldn't have shared my blog with people I know, for I feel inhibited writing about them. It's just indiscreet. Specially since some of the people who read this blog know the people I would be talking about. So, I leave it at this.

In the past week I have been accused of spoiling my child rotten (and I can't vent over this accusation on my blog, for it is being read by said person), I've been accused of sleeping with my friend's husband (WHAT??!! - we need to talk, girl...I'm deeply insulted.), someone I consider a very dear friend was commited to the hospital because he didn't sleep or eat for about 6 days or so (stress-related) and then became paranoid, thinking everyone is out to get him. This was horrible. I felt totally powerless in extending my help.
However, I can't write about any of this in detail, for I don't want to be indiscreet.

So, I think I am moving on and will open a new blog somewhere where nobody knows me (and the only people I will actually share it with will be some of my close friends in Austria - i.e. across the ocean ... no foreseeable discretion dilemmas.)

so long m'dear readers.
thanks for reading. and feel free to browse the blog for previous entries. they're rather time-less anyway. I kinda always tried to make each entry stand on its own.
If you want to see where I'm at you can look at my profile.
So, as a last entry I am posting this e-mail from my friend on the situation in New Orleans.

Hello everyone,

Well, here we are again with another disaster situation. I am here in Alabama watching the horrific toll that Katrina has taken on the Gulf coast. If this were a disaster movie, the plot would focus not on the East coast being decimated by some kind of rogue tidal wave, or the West coast being taken out by an earthquake that causes the entire state of California to drop into the Pacific, but instead the third coast of the US (that being the Gulf coast) being destroyed by a hurricane and a great American city being wiped out by flooding.

This is the United States of America and we have never had to deal with a refugee evacuation/shelter scenario before of hundreds of thousands of people. How is it that reporters from CNN, MSN and probably the foreign press are able to get to victims, when the relief agencies that should be doing that have not as yet done so? How is it that people are dying as I write this because they have had no food or water in days or they have not had adequate ventilation? How are corpses being placed in stairwells in hospitals becuase there is no place to put them? Why is it that the images of vicitms are nearly all black and elderly folk? Why is it still going to take till Monday for the military ships with supplies get to the gulf? Why was the priority shifted from evacuating people from New Orleans to taking care of the looters? WHERE ARE THE LOOTERS GOING WITH THE LOOT? Really!!!! People are despearate. If food, water and supplies are being taken...so what. I would probably do the same to save my family. No one is going to airlift them with a plasma tv....and if a person chooses to hold onto the plasma tv over being rescued...well they either choose life or not.

I do not know if I will be able to get back home easily. Gas prices in Atlanta are now $5 per gallon...and I hear that the tank needs to get filled up now for there is no guarantee the there will be any gas available in the next few days.

I hear that New Orleans knew that the levee system was in need of repair two years ago...apparently it was reported in the local papers there that funding from the federal gov't had been approved, unfortunately, the federal aid got re-routed to Iraq...for I guess a more important security issue. I can not confirm what was reported in the local papers...but wait till I email CNN to look into substantiating that rumor. How dare the director of FEMA imply that people chose to stay because they were stubborn. Yes, there was a mandatory evacuation order that he regrets not everybody followed and that he is not one to judge...but he did not understand why people were still there. Hello poverty!!! Most poor people can not drive to safe places and put themselves up into hotels till the storm passes.

Again and again I keep hearing that one of the biggest obstacles to coordinating rescue and relief is communication lines being non-existent. How can that be? 9/11 showed how important communication lines are. How can that be an issue again?

Any way...there are people dying right now....they are not in a third world country...they are here in the "greatest " country in the world. This is more fuel for my doom amd gloom scenarios that fire me up into working in the public health/disaster arena. I still can not sign up to help (they are now begging for medical personnel from other states) physically yet. My first responsibility are my sons. BUT...I can again give monetarily.

Till we meet again...God bless us all.
Mo

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

mama goes clubbing

so I went out to the Supper Club the other night..with Rosa, my very good friend Nadine and two of her girlfriends. I have been to all black clubs before(in fact, that's usually my kind of thing) but I think this was the first time that I was the only white girl in the place. Try not to be self-conscious about that. In addition to me paling in the shadow of my girlfriends I wasn't exactly dressed too stylishly. While everyone around me seemed to be wearing glittery shirts, jewelry and pumps, I couldn't find anything else in my closet than a combination of clothes which made me look like I'm heading to the beach and didn't want to mess up the good skirt. Good thing I started drinking, so this wasn't anything one drink couldn't fix (for those of you who don't know me...I never ever drank any alcohol until about a year ago). One diluted Pineapple Malibu, a couple of anonymous gropings later and I felt much better about myself. I remember the days when I used to swing at anyone who even tried to touch me without permission. After 10 years with the same man these days are over. ;) Now, someone touches me and I'm like "mhm...look I've been touched by ANOTHER man! :D." You go for the ass or the boobs (which really doesn't happen) I still will pop you in the eye, of course, but I've become much more lenient. After all, it looks like that's all I'm gonna get...since I find myself unable to cheat. But let's see...there is always room for growth. ;)

So, after a while I loosened up and started shakin' that booty (i.e. danced some..or lots).
When I finally took a break and sat down on the stairs around the dance floor, some guy holds his blackberry in front of me.
I: "what?"
he: "your number is missing."
I: "ah..of course. ..and what is your name?"
he: "Tony."
I: "Tony, there are two reasons I can't put my number in your phone.
1.) You are wayy too young for me. You are like a baby-boy."
he: "I'm 30 years old."
I: "no, you're not!"
he: "yes, I am"
I:"no, you're not."
he: "yes, I am."
I: "lemme see some i.d."
He pulls out his i.d. and it turns out he really is 30 years old. It also turns out that his name isn't Tony, it's Bruce.
I: "ehm,...Tony....if you are giving me your id you should probably try to remember that this will reveal the fact that you're lying about your name. Not a good way to start out."
he: "I was gonna give you my real name, if we would have started talking over the phone."
I: "if you're gonna pick a false name, at least pick something less corny. Tony....that's a bad player's name."
he: "...really? ...then.... Tyrone maybe?"
I:"ehww... no. worse. ...maybe something like Troy. That's a cool name."
he: (pondering) "Troy. ...like the movie."
I: "...ya ...the movie... (sigh)"
he: "so, can I have your number."
I: "no. and here goes reason number 2 (I should have probably prioritized differently;) : I'm married."
he: (pause) "I'm married, too."
I: "And you're rappin' to me? I should slap you upside down the head on behalf of your wife."
he: "hey, you're rappin' back."
I: (thinking: I think, I am.) saying: "no, I'm just responding to you as not to be rude."
he: "mhmm........ so can I have your number.... we could just be friends."
I: "yeah, right. ...thanks, but I have enough friends. And I'm sure your wife wouldn't appreciate me very much."
he: "I'm not really married. I just switched my ring over to this finger."
I: "I didn't want to say anything...but your ring looks like a pimp's ring...all flashy like that."
he: "ok, I'm going to try one more time...cuz I really enjoy talking to you. can I please have your number."
I: "ehm, no. ...besides our relationship already lacks in trust big time ;) ."
he: (sighs)
to which I gave him a big smile good-bye and made my way back to the dancefloor.

Unfortunately, the DJs of the night were quite annoying. They just couldn't shut up. Not a single song did they let play without them interrupting every 5 seconds (and I am NOT exxagerating here). As the night went on, they became more and more daring and at the end they were just playing songs like "lick that p*ssy, lick that cr*ck" ...and telling guys to shout out if any women "ever did some stupid sh*t" to them and "you just wanted to beat her up" to which they then played some song which had a chorus going something like this "f*ck that trick. f*ck that trick".
I was in shock that women were still dancing to this completely disrespectful sh*t. I mean, I like rap and hiphop, so I obviously can take a fair share of women-bashing, but there are some limits, no? At one point, I just can't take it with humour anymore. Were is your self-respect, ladies?
Speaking of which, ... what is happening to the FCC regulations? Not that I am a supporter but it's all kind of weird. This morning I'm driving in to work, my car-radio tuned to 105.1 (Rap, HipHop, R&B), and a commercial for some event comes on that ends with the sentence: "Get your a** over there ni**er" (hmm, how do I bleep out the word 'nigger'...shit, now I wrote it down...I just hate that word...and I'm not even black.... so I'm thinking...if I -- non-black, maybe still a bit old-fashioned -- take offense in this commercial, then what about every black person my age or older? ...well, I'm gonna ask some of my friends what they think...I'm curious.)

Thursday, August 18, 2005

undercover come-on

so, I 'm walking the dog and this car pulls over next to me. some guy trying to talk to me sort of cruises at my speed of walking.
guy: can I just tell you ...you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
me: (internal hysterical laugh about stupid come-on line) ...- looking at him with a frown
guy: (probably sensing my discomfort of being hit on from someone inside a car) don't worry...I am a police-man...
me: is this your idea of under-cover work? You disclose your identity to talk to a woman?
guy: can I ask you if I could give you my number?
me: thanks, but no thanks. I'm married. (to which he just bowed his head, blabbered something into his walkie-talkie and sped off).

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

is my writing that bad?

so, I'm writing a mail from my g-mail account...and you know how google has those ads that show up on the side with information pertaining to what you're writing?
So, today I look over this is what I got:

Sponsored Links
English Grammar
Get Help with English—
Find Answers to English
Homework Questions Here.
reference.aol.com
The perfect grammar tool
Fix all writing problems
Analyze the entire text
whitesmoke.com


I'm insulted. By an automated ad.
(technically, I should be saying "I've been insulted." ...so maybe I need the damn grammar check tool after all).

Monday, August 15, 2005

I love daddy more

good thing I am not taking this too seriously, yet...or maybe I'm just in denial but this morning Maia woke up, climbed on top of her father and said: Daddy I love you soooo much.
Still half-asleep I tapped her on the shoulder: Excuse me, ...and how about mommy? Do you love mommy, too?
Yes, she said, but I love daddy more.
ouch. After picking up the pieces of my broken heart (just kidding), I asked and why is it that you love daddy more?
Because Daddy makes me all these nice things and you never cook anything, she responded.
(O-U-C-H.)
I do, too, I said, I cook for you. I make spaghetti and egg-omelette, and turkey & rice, and ...macaroni and cheese... Just not lately.
I want macaroni and cheese for breakfast, she said.
I'm not making mac and cheese now. It's too early, I said.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

my 3-year-old's idea of a perfect moment

My 3-year old is turning into an indoor child and I can't handle it. More than once did she now tell me she doesn't want to go outside. In the morning she sounds like her dad when she tells me to close the curtains because the sun is bothering her. But the moment I realized she is becoming a city kid snuck up on me yesterday at the end of her bedtime routine. Her latest excuse for getting up again after the lights have been turned off is that she is scared. Sometimes she is honest and you just hear a loud sigh and her groaning out of the darkness of her room "aarghhh. ....Mooom!...sleeping is boooring!"
Anyway, so yesterday while tucking her into bed I tried to get ahead of her I'm-scared-excuse and told her to close her eyes and imagine something beautiful.
me: imagine a beautiful thing. what's something really beautiful for you?
maia: (thinks) ... "TV," she finally says smiling happily, "and milk."
me: (country girl in shock) TV??!!
maia: yes, ...TV with milk...and pancakes on top of the TV (to make it even more better).
me: we gotta get you outside more often.
maia: I don't wanna go outside.
me: sigh. (with inner turmoil)

I am from Austria. I basically spent my entire youth outdoors. My favorite place were the woods. I climbed everything - climbable or not. I was dirty most of the time and I think I wore a dress once. ... Rosa keeps on asking me what's so bad about staying inside. ...I can't say. It's a life-style. ...And I truly believe children should be outside everyday.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

do you feel lucky?

A few days ago I read this terrible story in the NY Times about a 16-months-old child in Niger who just died of malnutrition. Nayla is 16 months old. :<
Just thinking about this makes me ache. As much as I wonder why I am so priviledged to be a mother who can give her children what they need, I am also grateful. This one thing I will never understand. The distribution of suffering. The one fight I'd ever pick with God. If I had to pick a fight, that is. ...That, and of course, the whole why does menstruation (and childbirth) have to be so f*in painful. ;)
but seriously, now..... here the letter I just send to as many friends I could fit in that field at the savethechildren website. Here it is to you:
------------------------------------
Guys,
If you have a few bucks to spare it would be really worth its value here. Donating takes 2 minutes and it can save lives.Too many children die. Too many people die. ...This world seems to never be in great shape....But at least we can make a little/big difference by sharing what we have (and how greatful I am for what I have).
www.savethechildren.org

sisi

Monday, August 08, 2005

It's hot in NYC = Open the hydrants


From my photoblog - Open Hydrant (Bronx)
newyork.blogphotography.com

Saturday, August 06, 2005

how to ask this delicate question

So, I've been really trying to avoid asking my downstairs neighbor if she is pregnant even though she totally looks/looked like it. The problem is, the woman is also a heavy-set lady and I didn't want to risk asking her if she is pregnant, when in fact she is still trying to get rid of the pregnancy-fat from her first child. God knows, I sympathize. I've actually been asked if I am pregnant... many many months after giving birth..thank you very much. >:<
It was enough that I had just a few weeks ago asked another neighbor (and..coop-board president...sigh) if she is expecting, when in fact she wasn't. Nice.
Anyway, so I thought, let me just not ask and wait until she is really obviously pregnant...if she is..and then ask her.
Unfortunately, it turns out there is no graceful way out ...or at least, I am not graceful. I got in the elevator with my downstairs neighbor's husband this evening. He was carrying a big aluminium tray so I asked him if they had a barbeque today. No, he says, ...it was a babyshower...for his wife.
Oooh, so she really is expecting! I said
Ehm, yeah, he grunted, very much so. She's due next month. A response which made me realize I might as well have been asking if his wife was pregnant or just very fat. :<
I suck.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

therapy on the horizon

so, Dario agreed (with clenching teeth) to a weekly therapy session. Of course, I would be the one who has to organize this but I can handle that. (Also, this will kill all of our savings...so, bye-bye vacation home.)
He still insists we could do this on our own ..we just need to communicate better....;) aaahh...the unrealistic idealism...

I just don't want to become a statistic. I don't want to become yet another divorce story. I saw this program the other day (on PBS "Secrets to a Long Relationship" or something like that) and one of those old ladies said something like: "People separate for the silliest reasons nowadays... a relationship is something you work on...you don't just bud out at the first sign of trouble..."

I also don't want to assimilate to the general trend of messing around. It is hard to keep this rather traditional view in this so unbelievably horny society. Sorry, I couldn't think of a better word than "horny" ... I wanted to say "liberal" but then that would mean I am not liberal, thus conservative, and I just can't bear to claim that. I also thought about describing this society as "open" but that's also not right, for there might be the "girls gone wild" and the south-beach excesses and all that sh*t but really...somebody shows a bare breast on TV and everybody freaks out.

It is weird that I am such a faithful person, for I truly don't believe in monogamy at all. I guess, my faithfulness has more to do with honesty, for that would mean I have to lie...which I (a) hate and (b) suck at.

Monday, August 01, 2005

maia figuring out numbers (or not)

me: maia, you can play 10 more minutes.
maia: no,...how about a little more....how about 6 months and 48.
me: 48?
maia: yes, 48:48
me: oookayy....

****************
maia has a new watch (some plastic thing somebody gave her):
me: what time is it maia darlin'?
maia: it's 10.245. 38:38
me: ...ehm..well, thank you....

husband refusing therapy

sh*t, I wish I had more time to think and blog...but since I don't, here
the letter I just wrote to Dario (I've been trying to convince him to go to a weekend therapy workshop with me, and he refuses with the excuse that he doesn't want to leave the girls behind) - so just in case,...this isn't a humorous blog-entry ..it is a stripped-bare entry:

I just would like to capture for posterity the fact that you refuse to go to therapy with me.
We cannot afford individual sessions and the combined workshops are only on the weekend.

You think all is fine (just like most men do - oblivious to the way their wife feels).
I am very close to moving into dangerous territory (i.e. opening my heart and my mind for new experiences outside of our marriage). I don't mean f*ing around, I mean opening my heart, which I have closed 10 years ago as to keep it with only you.

This is dangerous to our relationship but I have been unhappy for too long and you don't let me undertake my last attempt to improve this marriage -> therapy.
Therapy is a natural step in a long-term relationship. It is vital to this one and it is WAYYY over-due. I love you, truly ... but I am just so frustrated.
You don't hear me...you don't listen to me...you're negative, you're demanding, ...your communication sucks (i.e. you like to play the blame game, you are passive-aggressive...you name it... all detrimental to us and ultimately our family. I am aching inside as I am writing this...but I will not remain in an unhappy relationship forever.
We need to find a way to communicate better, understand each other better, respect each other, etc. etc. .... and we NEED a little help and some instructions.

You think I am doing this for fun? You think I want to sit in an intensive 2-day workshop and talk about relationships? This sucks as much for me as it sucks for you but I find it is inevitable and overdue.
I have faith in us. We have good material to work with. We love each other. We respect each other.
We love ourselves as a family with two wonderful little girls.

Going on a weekend trip with your wife doesn't mean you are leaving your children. Do you think it is easy for me to be separated from them overnight? I can't even sleep in the office (regardless how exhausted), just because it would mean separation. Something I can't say about you. How many times have you slept in the office? What about my trip to Cape Cod last summer? You were without your ladies for days.
And what about this summer? You seem to have no problem with the idea of me taking a vacation with the girls while you stay here. You seem to also be quite excited about any weekend trip you could be doing with John (once again, ...leaving your girls behind.)
So, please don't make them your excuse.
If anything...it will probably be much harder for me, for it will be the first time I am away since my 2-day trip to Cape Cod with Marta to wean Maia when she was 15 mo. old.
They will be in good hands. They are in these hands almost every day of the week.

love,
s.

PS: I know you try, and you are a sweet man, and I love you ...and you love me...and all...but it isn't enough in the long run, Dario. I am so frustrated with our daily life....we NEED a tune-up.
Besides, a weekend trip together will be good for the two of us....as a couple...(and I am not only talking about uninterrupted sex)..... it could be romantic.....that is if we don't rip each other's head off in the day's workshop (just kidding) ;)
xxxoxx

Saturday, July 23, 2005

Imago Therapy Concepts

so, I'm reading this book "Getting the Love You Want" by this star therapist (H.Hendrix), which by the way is possibly the best example for the saying "don't judge a book by it's cover" -> I mean, by giving the book such a desperate title, they already lose the entire male readership, and I must tell you, if my mother (who is a family therapist) wouldn't have strongly recommended this book (and the therapy method it discusses), I would have never even taken it off the shelf.
So, I am going through quite some embarrassing maneuveurs trying to hide the title when I pull out the book in public. People might think I'm reading porn or something ...that's how secretive I take the book out of my bag...always careful to hide the cover.

Anyway, I just wanted to write down a few interesting concepts Hendrix brings up in his apparently very successful therapy method (Imago Relationship Therapy).
One, which I found most intriguing is the analysis that when we avoid our partners (with all kinds of excuses) we unconsciously avoid anxiety. But not just any kind of anxiety. Let me quote, for I am really bad at this whole paraphrasing sh*t:
"The other reason couples avoid intimacy is fear, specifically the fear of pain. On an unconscious level, many people react to their partners as if they were enemies. Any person - whether parent or partner or next-door neighbor - who is perceived by the old brain to be a source of need gratification and then appears to be withholding that gratification is cataloged by the old brain as a source of pain, and that raises the specter of death. If your partner does not nurture you and attend to your fundamental needs, a part of you fears that you will die, and it believes that your partner is the one who is allowing this to happen.
[...] In most cases the fear of the partner is unconscious. All that couples are aware of is a mild feeling of anxiety around each other and a desire to be with other people or to be involved in other activities." (p. 109)

He mentions that we have to train our brains to deal with change. When our relationships change and we are required to adapt and assume new roles we feel like we're losing our personality (i.e. we think we're dying). What we have to realize is that there are different stages in life, which sometimes require us to change our behaviors and habits. Change isn't necessarily negative (it is so subjective and temporary). Change means we are growing...

Thursday, July 14, 2005

bitching just to bitch

so I've been sucked into Dario's house-hunting fever for a few weeks and only recently came back to my senses. what is it with me? this man ...or this relationship...has really had much more influence over my persona than I'd like to admit. our partners hold a not always tangible but quite effective power over us and vice versa, of course.
didn't I only a few months ago despise the idea of having a house? all the extra work, extra costs, and the whole commuting thing... I hate commuting...at least, when there is traffic...and let's face it ...there is always f'ing traffic. why am I so eager to leave the city to start my conservative life.... family with house, two kids and two cars.... I'm 30 years old...am I supposed to be doing this sh*t already? I'll be "old" in two seconds....
and what makes me think that Dario will suddenly change his habits and become super-husband ...or at least traditional-husband, who comes home after work to continue working on and around the house (as opposed to playing videogames online for the rest of the evening ..... can you tell I'm a bit sensitive on the subject at the moment).
It took Dario about a year to put up the curtain rods. The ceiling fan still isn't assembled (and we've moved in 2 years ago)....and just in general - any request I have takes him about 4-52 weeks (on average) to complete. And God forbid, I try to take things into my own hands. For example, the picture shelves I finally put up by the entrance wall. I had been waiting for months and so one day I said "f-it. I'm goin' in". The next day, I catch Dario reinstalling the shelves behind my back. Apparently, I didn't use the level or something.

anyway, I'm just bitching to bitch tonight.
I really just want to go out and get stoned (now that I FINALLY can -> not nursing, not pregnant, free free free:) but none of my friends are to be found. I was just gonna rollerblade around the block but then Dario decided he needed to finally go visit his mother (after many weeks of not doing so).....thus, I am now stuck at home....the usual.
Time to put Maia to sleep. She's a cute one, though. I ought to write down the things she says nowadays.
...later.

stereo-typical husband complaints and attempt to analyze

I'm not feeling well. I don't know how many times I said this sentence this evening but I sure know how many times it was ignored. Every single time.
I mean, what is it? Do I really need to walk in the door and say I am feeling bad and I ain't doing sh*t tonight. So, don't even come ask me? ... well, I suppose, I could make it a bit more diplomatic and still equally direct but WHY? Isn't it enough to say "I am not feeling well" (about 10-15 times)?
Anyway, it was ignored. No why-s, no what-do-you-need, no let-me-take-care-of-the-kids-tonight.

Is it that we are so used to hearing each other complain that we just tune it out... almost like a self-defense-mechanism? Complaining about our daily chores is about just as effective as putting on the guilt-trip or playing the blame-game. It's just destructive.
But I try to control such behavior ... and tonight was a legitimate request for help. Why do I have to spell it out? I don't want to do this.
I want the man on my side to be receptive enough...to be sensitive enough... to take charge....to ....ahhh what am I saying.... there is no perfect man. It's either this or single..... and I must say...single is sounding pretty good to me lately.
I am just getting to a new phase of being annoyed by unorganized, videogames-playing, laundry-producing, buying-crap-on-ebay (1968 MonteCarlo without seats!??!), never-listening-to-anything-I-say husband-behavior.

Monday, July 11, 2005

whatever happened to emancipation?

you know it's a shame that I get back online (after having been cut off) just when I've finally worked through the past few days of being really upset about the London bombings only to bitch about Beyonce's (or Destiny's Child's) new song in which the chorus goes something like this:

baby, let me bring me your slippers, make your dinner, take of your clothes,comb your hair and so much more... baby let me take care of you...my life is in your hands....and so much more..

What kind of bullshit role-modelling is this? Pop-stars need to realize the power they have over the minds of their young audiences.
... listen to me..I must be getting old.... (I still like 50-cent, though...I just ignore the cursing and focus on the sexy ;)

ok. have to get back to work.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

It’s because you’re white

Today I got my daughter signed into a summer program of a pre-school Rosa had been trying to get her son into for months. They have been causing her great pain with all their strict policies and no-exceptions administration. Since the child care center is part of a CUNY college, they usually only accept students within their system. When Maia’s usual daycare center unexpectedly cancelled the summer session, I took a chance and gave them a call. On their website it said that in the summer months they’d maybe make an exception and take students from other CUNY colleges, if there is space.

Rosa is now totally pissed. She had been on the waiting list for a year or more. When she tried to register for a class at the school they were giving her hell because she couldn’t produce every transcript from every single school she ever went to. The fact that she graduated from Fordham (i.e. has transcripts and degree) didn't seem to matter. They wanted everything before they’d let her sign up for a class… and policy at the daycare center is that the child’s parent is a student at the college.

She was so mad that it took me only a phone call and a few easy documents that she swore they let me in because I’m white. And that comment just really pissed me off. First of all, I might look white but I don’t like to be thrown into a pot. I’m a half Arab raised Muslim in a country which is 98% Catholic (Austria), moved from there straight to the Bronx where I once again was the only outsider in a sea of Latinos. So, don’t tell me about discrimination or privilege. I know it when it hits me. I’ve been discriminated against many times. The reason I dyed my hair from blonde to black after moving here, was so that I could finally fit in better. And I can tell you, the way people treated me improved tremendously.
I hate fucking racism. I hate getting or not getting anything because of what I might look like. Of course, I’ve also experienced the other side of this story, where I had a strong feeling I got a break because I look/am Caucasian and the other person is, too.

This is a loaded argument and so it was for us fighting it out all evening but Rosa sounds more White-American (and she is Puerto Rican) than I do. She grew up here, went to Fordham, …her pronunciation is accent-free, …. As opposed to mine; People often think I am Latino (over the phone) because that’s the accent I picked up after coming here. I moved straight into the Bronx… and for a long time I sounded really freakin’ street. I can control this better now… mostly because I have broadened my circle of friends and am more aware of my diction but before I used to always fool people over the phone. I could see the surprise in their faces when they’d meet me after only having spoken to me on the phone.
This is what happened in this situation. I called them (the child care center) first. So, if anything, she might have given me a break because I sounded like a fellow-Latino…. But, truly, I don’t think any of this racial crap was an issue. Yes, I often am too idealistic but not everything is an issue of discrimination… especially not in New York City.
I am not trying to say there is no discrimination here. I have plenty of black friends who can sing me a song of this but you can’t throw this explanation at every situation which you find irrational or unfair. Sometimes it is just that. Irrational or unfair. Like my temporary admission to the summer session. The girl I spoke to seemed scatter-brained and somehow I got lucky. It is only the summer and they even say on their website that things are a bit more lenient during those sessions.
Rosa telling me this, was like telling a black person that they only got the job they applied for because they’re black (->Affirmative Action). That sh*t pisses me off, too. I just think, this just doesn’t apply anymore….OK, maybe elsewhere in this country ...but not in NYC…... or does it??

Tuesday, July 05, 2005


july 4th - van cortland park (bronx)

you know you're tired when...

know you're tired when...

- you put hairgel on your toothbrush instead of toothpaste (I now keep those tubes separate...who uses hairgel anymore, anyway.).

- you put two plates on the table because you've toasted two pieces of bread.

- you talk into your walkie-talkie without pressing the button and then wonder for like a minute or two why the other person doesn't respond to you.

- you can't respond to simple question with answers related to the topic:
e.g.: question: Are you done with the sub-pages of the webreport?
answer: yeah, I press this button over here.

..to be continued when have more sleep

Friday, July 01, 2005

where am I?

In case you've been wondering where the hell I've been ... I have been working on my photoblog(s). I'm only in the beginning phases but feel free to take a peek :)
http://newyork.blogphotography.com

Besides that, I've been working, and going to movies (well...really, ...only 1 movie since my last blog entry ...-> War of The Worlds ... very entertaining [if you can call the destruction of earth and all human life just that], adrenaline high at all times, and sickenigly but much needed happy ending. I dreamt all night of trying to evacuate my family from my building. Dario kept on going back because he forgot to put on pants or some sh*t like that and I kept on yelling at him...is this worth your potential death?)
I just got stuck in parentheses up there...so I wanted to get out of it before I sign off for today.

D and I are off today ... so we're hitting the MoMa. They're back in midtown. 20 bucks to enter...but as CUNY students (well, in posession of student i.d.s) we get in for free. :)

oh shoot, and I need to get some tranquilizers for the dog (July 4th is nearing...and he's already freaking out about all the pre-fireworks). I called the vet and they are making it mighty difficult for me to get just a few pills.... geez, it's easier to buy weed on the corner and get him to relax that way. But after last year's episode I'm not inclined towards any such adventures again.
Did I blog that? ...no, I wasn't even online, yet...was I? ... well, that's another story anyway.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

movies movies movies

so, yesterday I "played hookie" (for the first time in a very very long time) to go see Batman Begins for the second time. I left work at 1:30 and met up with Rosa, who also ditched work for the day. We had seen the same movie the night before from the first row of the IMAX; something I definitely do not recommend; so we wanted to see it again, from a less neck-wrenching, pore-magnifying place in the theater. After Batman we snuck (sneak snuk snuck?) into Mr. and Mrs. Smith and that really wasn't what I've heard it would be. First of all they looked unreal as a couple. They are just too perfect looking and it is annoying ..and I love Angelina Jolie (Bratt Pitt isn't bad either). Maybe it was the plot...maybe the fact that they beat each other bloody as man and wife (and it is supposed to be funny)...or maybe just the fact that the characters seemed so 2-dimensional.Oh, well...maybe it is because I saw Batman beforehand...and M&M Smith just couldn't compare.
When I came home and finished putting the kids to bed I sat down for another movie (netflix, baby). In Good Company. My friends, who had already seen it months ago, told me they didn't like the movie. I, however, thought it was very well acted and well told. It also made me really appreciate my job. I don't know how I would survive this cut-throat corporate world out there, where people mean nothing. Well, I guess this is the sacrifice of capitalism. It's either business & profit or people. This is why I will never be rich.

Monday, June 20, 2005

tree-house hotel

Germany's first tree-house hotel (for about 280 bucks/night!?!). Nevertheless, preeetty cool. :)
http://www.kulturinsel.de/indexa.htm

superficial issues

So, yesterday- for the first time in many many many months - I saw a guy I could describe as somewhat hot. Dario, of course, thinks he is in constant competition with basically any well-built black man or anything remotely attractive. I really don't know why. It's not like I am particularily good looking. In fact, compared to most New York women I am quite a hunch-back, so my worries about D getting swept off his feet by a foxy lady should be exponentially higher than his fears of handsome men with any interests in my humble self.

I wonder, why it is that it makes us feel good when we are desired? Is it a socially conditioned thing?

Personally, I find men most attractive when I don't know them very well, yet. Of course, they have to first fulfill the initial criteria of fitting my attractive-male description, which most of them just don't. This is why Dario has absolutely no worries, for the only men I really find hot are one or two movie-stars, thus basically an illusion.

This blog entry is so bad, I want to put a stickie on my back with the note "former blonde but still dumb". And this joke was so bad I shouldn't be allowed to blog. But hey, everybody can have a bad blogging day, right? ... I am still getting used to the American keyboard and the English language...after 3 weeks on vacation in Austria.
What I really want to do is photograph, anyway... so I should probably get started on figuring out how to set up a photoblog.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

reporting from Austria

so, here I am ...in Austria ...visiting my friends and family. it is beautiful here right now...beautiful and deceiving or so I wonder. Deceiving, for I am being lured in; so much that I actually answered a job posting in the newspaper yesterday. I really don`t know what my plan is. I have been thinking about moving back to Austria for a few years now but when people ask me about it I´d always refer to a non-specific near future (a couple of years). I love New York and I love the people I have met and become friends with there. One of my great passions is street photography and one of my main on-going projects are the streets of the Bronx. However, fact is that my children would have a better life here where I grew up. There are so many reasons .. or so I think.
So, just for the heck of it I looked at the newspaper classifieds with the intention to just get a rough idea what kind of jobs are out there in this little small a** state. Interestingly enough, the first ad I looked at seemed like the perfect job for me. Everything they listed on their list of job duties appeared exciting to me. So, I thought, let me apply. If I don´t do it now...when am I going to do it? Will I ever jump that hurdle? And if they take me..then I suppose that´s an omen.
So I wrote my 2-page application letter describing my unsual circumstances (applying while being on vacation; still got a home and job in NY, etc.), patched together my CV and off I went to personally hand in my application. It so happened that the contact person (the HR guy, I suppose) was still in the office when I arrived 10 minutes to 5 and I actually got a brief interview (in my shabby pants and my americanized -i.e. fresh - attitude). Before I left, I asked him what kind of person they had in mind for the job and he told me that I would be such a person (my resume covering almost all criteria) but they had just published the ad two days ago and were already flooded by applications. So, I´ll hear back from them.
Secretly, I am afraid of getting the position, for it would mean such a drastic change in my life, which I am not sure I am prepared for. Also, I love New York...and this decision would be solely for my children. Last but not least, I wouldn`t know how to tell my boss. When I left, he actually said to me "You better come back!",) well, let's see where life takes me (us).

Ironically, I just started reading Paul Auster`s "Oracle Night". It`s a story within a story within a story. Pretty cool. One of the stories (first tier down) is about a guy who radically changes his life from one day to the other. Actually...I`m going to read now, although it is past 2 a.m. here.

this european keyboard is driving me nuts. all the letters are switched around and if I wanna type an @ sign I have to press CTRL+ALT+Q .ugh.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

and so the air-travel panicking begins

so, we're flying out to Austria tomorrow...and it seems like there are way too many plane-crash stories coming to my attention. Sunday I walked into the living room and got caught up in the beginning of Final Destination, which Carla had just switched to on the TV. If you know the movie it has one of the most intense scenes I have ever seen. It's just very freaggin' scary. In the beginning of the movie, the main character has a preminition/dream that the plane he is sitting on is going to crash...he basically lives the moment....thinks it's real..every detail...until he wakes up and finds himself sitting on the plane (still on the run-way). So, he panics and gets off, drags a couple of pissed-off people with him, and then the plane really explodes, only a moment after it takes off.
Then, yesterday... I hear this story on the news...of this girl in Coney Island who just didn't feel well being in the plane, made the pilot land, got off and then watched it crash. (I'm not sure if she watched it crash...but the point is ...the damn thing went down and everyone died).
http://www.nydailynews.com/front/story/312535p-267388c.html

WHY? Why do I have to hear sh*t like this a day before I'm supposed to step on a plane, which I already hate by default. In addition to this all, I would never be the person who actually gets off the plane because I have a bad dream or I am scared it might crash. If I did that I'd never fly home again. I'm way too rational for that.
Anyway, in case I die, ... well...that would suck....cause my whole little family is with me...so I can't even write a quick will or anything. Which reminds me, I did by the Willmaker Pro (software to write your own will)...I should get that done sometime soon.... this is what you have to do when you have kids.
ok. enough about the scary stuff. I will now move on to "repression"-mode.

stress relief realization

There's one thing I've come to realize.... my best stress buster is to care less. Now, this is difficult, for you don't want to become someone who just doesn't care, so I should probably be more specific about this strategy.Care less about the little things. Care less about things said or done to you by others, regardless on how they've affected you personally (i.e. how much stress something would usually cause you). See the big picture. How does something relate to the big picture? Does it make sense to let something emotionally upset you if it isn't relevant to what is really important. If you can "let it go" let it go as quickly as you can. It's wasted energy to stress about something that has already happened. Just modify future behavior.Now, I should probably say that my realization of this stress relief strategy doesn't mean I can just pull it off like that. It takes constant self-reminding and inner peace doesn't just happen from one day to the other. But I did notice how well it works when I actually am able to apply this kind of trouble tackling. The tension just fades away and I refocus on what is more important in my life.

I just noticed...this is basically the essence of that quote I recently found (the serenity prayer?)...Accept the things I cannot change.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

what they found on ebay

so, as I sit here for the 4th night in a row..working late on my class project (-taking an "Advanced Digital Photography & Contemporary Art" class this semester-)...I am watching Jay Leno again for the first time in many many months.
So, now they have this new segment in the show called "What we've found on e-bay" and really this makes me wanna quit my job and try to make a living searching for religious memorbilia (hmm..I'm too lazy to look up how to spell this...the Austrian in me turns around in shame)...
Anyway, so here it is.
A dorito chip shaped like the pope's hat (or dome or whatever you call it...NO, I'm not going to look this up either...you know what I'm talking about)... it was sold for $1,500 DOLLARS!
You think this is bad? ... A piece of toast which looked like someone had scratched a smiley face into it and then claimed it to be some appearance of a runaway bride (who the F is Jennifer Wilbanks??) went for 15,400 US DOLLARS!!!
I don't get this. I reeaaaaally don' t get this. Somebody please explain how this is possible.
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&category=1469&item=5577795202&rd=1

And if that isn't enough, there was someone else who sold a toast with a Jennifer Wilbanks "appearance" a few days before that for $4,000. Ok, let's say you actually believe this is just some sort of appearance...wouldn't you wonder about the authenticity of the second toast going up for auction?
Unbelievable. This country is amazing.
;)

Monday, May 16, 2005

does this qualify as blasphemy?


Maia playing with available "dolls" at grandma's house. Gotta use what's there, I suppose. So there's Jesus on the cross, some saint which she is making ride the golden horse.....and a few other figurines that work for her just fine. ...Isn't this a bit blasphemic? Well, I thought it was funny, at first...so here is the image..

maia quotes

I've been trying to explain to Maia (who just turned 3 in January) what it means when words "rhyme". Today we actually did some Pre-K excercises and she began arguing with me that 'train' rhymes with 'truck' and certainly NOT 'plane'. I suppose, she meant they are more similar in looks and they both start with "tr".
So I said, "honey, 'truck' doesn't SOUND like 'train', does it? to which she put her ear onto the picture of the truck and said "the truck doesn't SOUND like anything, mommy."

I guess, she won't be getting that concept for a while. ;)

She's really cute nowadays. So many conclusions and statements that are just hilarious, ...mostly because they are so random.
Friends of ours (John and Carla) are staying with us for a few days after having lost their place (sort of). So, this morning Maia comes in the bedroom and proclaims
"Mom, ..... I like Carla a lot. I like Carla and bunny rabbits."
usually she'll tell you she likes horsies, and giraffes (which she insists on pronouncing /girraffiiees/...emphasis on the last 'e'.)

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Veronica Mars

ok. I have to finally admit it (because I need to rant about it). I am addicted to "Veronica Mars" (UPN9, Tuesdays at 9pm...well, not anymore...since tonight was the season finale).
The last episode of the season was really an All My Children meets Scream kinda flick....but I loved it except for the fact that you do not know who comes to her door at 3 o'clock in the morning at the very end of the show. Why would they end it that way? why? why?

arghh.
well, I would like it to be....hmm..Logan, even though I hated that guy 'til almost right to the end.
(this will mean, of course, nothing to all of you who do not know the series....which probably is everyone over 18. ... yes, I am addicted to a teenie show. AND what?! HA? .... but seriously....Veronica Mars is a pretty well written show.)

the end.
I'm out. good night. (the dog slept on my pillow when I was out...have to go change the damn sheets now.)

Thank God for 'The Breakfast Club'

today I worked from home. bad idea. i got stuck in front of the computer all day. didn't budge except to make coffee and to finally walk the dog around 4pm. my back is killing me. when d got home we decided to take out the girls for a walk. another not too great of an idea. while the trip to the playground wasn't all that bad, the attempt to get food afterwards turned into a nerve-wrenching evening hogger.Dario got the idea to get food at this little Spanish place in the neighborhood we used to live at. In the ghetto, might I add. Probably one of the hottest drug-spots in the area. 183rd Street in the Bronx. But there is a restaurant there which just knocks you off your feet...if you wait long enough for the food, that is.We waited 45 (!) minutes, which seemed like an hour and a half with two small, tired, cranky and hungry children.
"What are they doing in there?", I snapped,"slaughtering the damn cow?"
"You're the one who wanted mashed potatoes", Dario shot back, "and that takes time."
"This is a restaurant. One would assume they have some boiled and ready-to-go potatoes lying around." I added really not trying to have the last word.
When the food finally did arrive, I got to have about a bite and a half until we had reached the kids' utter edge of patience. It was the best bite of mashed potatoes and pepper steak I had in years. Unfortunately, it lay in my stomach like a rock from all the stress I had been eating it with. On the way home, I finally convinced Nayla to shut up (she had been whining continuously for about 20 minutes) by turning up '50-cent' real loud. I'm not sure if she was startled by it or if she enjoyed it but it worked. At home (after the kids were finally put down) I made things all better by watching 'The Breakfast Club' twice in a row (for the 800th time in my life). I can't help it. Everytime I happen to channel-surf and I come across this movie, I get stuck. And tonight, they played it back-to-back, so I got stuck twice.
ok. time to hit the sack.
got a sh**-load of work to do tomorrow.

Monday, May 09, 2005

Maia notices people come in different colors

so, this is Maia talking to Petrina ... our black friend/neighbor from upstairs.
(note: Petrina is wearing a tank-top...not running around naked).

Maia: Petrina, your boobies are brown!
P: yes, I know.
M: why are your boobies brown?
P: because I'm brown.
M: my mommy's boobies aren't brown.
P: that's because your mommy isn't brown.
M: .......do you like being brown?
P: yes, I love being brown.
M: and your baby is brown, too.
P: yes, he is.
M: he's so cute.
;)

I feel better now. Last week one of the teacher's at her Pre-school told me that when the semester started Maia didn't want to go into the block room because the block room teacher "has funny hair." (dread-locks) I was so embarrassed, when they told me this. I wanted to say, ..."I swear, I'm not telling that girl anything. She just comes up with stuff. Although, she is addicted to Barbie and that seems to be her standard of non-funny hair at the moment. (SEE, I knew it ...that damn Barbie was gonna come around and bite me in the ass.)" but that would have sounded incriminating, so I just let it be and hoped they would understand that kids will be kids.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

what moms really want for mother's day

i don't know if this makes me a bad mother, but I just wanted mother's day off. I wanted to abandon everything and go pretend I'm 18 without a worry in the world. At 18, of course, I saw things differently. Back then I thought I'm getting my midlife crisis 10 years early. I just didn't know what to do with my life. Anyway, my mother's day morning was already filled with the routine drama of a household with small children ...and the sleeping-in plan didn't work out whatsoever... unless you count sleeping until 7.45 and then being interrupted every twenty minutes while you're trying to get back to REM until finally giving up at 9.15 am. Boy, was I cranky at that point and let me tell you it's no fun when you can't act upon your crankiness, for everyone is trying to be nice to you. But when you have a 3-year old yell "happyyy Mooother's Dayyy" at you every five minutes when all you want is either a chance to go back to sleep or a double-dose of Red Bull things aren't looking to good on the "I'm-going-to-have-a-swell-day" track. It took me until about noon to accept my fate that I will not get the day off, even though I tried to hint at it repeatedly. My brother-in-law called me "not normal" for wanting to spend Mother's Day" by myself. I told him that I firmly believed all mothers secretly would like to use "mother's day" as an excuse to justify time for themselves, right after their family has let them sleep in, and provided a big breakfast to celebrate and appreciate their year-round dedication.

So, the rest of the day was spent according to Maia's plan, which she disclosed to me rather early in my hectic morning. She told me, Mom, I want to go get some banilla ice-cream and then I wanna go ride a pony and go yiiiihaaa and then I wanna go to the park. She didn't even wait for an answer and ignored my comment that this was supposed to be my day, hence the name "mother's day". She just walked into her room, got out a set of clothes and got dressed. When she was done she asked me where her coat was. Mind you I'm still sitting there in my pajamas...quite in awe about her determination and the fact that she just dressed herself entirely when I need to drag her by her ears to get her dressed on an average day.
Since I had nothing better to do and my secret plans seemed to not be working out, I gave in and we went for ice-cream and pony-rides by Orchard Beach.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

other bloggers with too much time on their hands

this is quite funny.

read this first:
http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/nyc/57941224.html

and here the follow up:
http://approachingmidnight.blogspot.com/2005/02/apartment-to-share_04.html

After reading some of Daniel's blog (approaching midnight) I have added him to my "favorite blog list"..or wait, I called it "Blogs worth checking" ...see my sidebar links to the right.

Monday, May 02, 2005

mama goes underground

first of all, I have to once again emphasize on how happy I am to live in New York City. It is something about this place that makes it special. I fell in love with this city the first time I set foot here and that was over 10 years ago, as an au-pair, in the middle of a freezing winter-night (in the spur of a moment, we had jumped on a late train from Philly, where we au-paired, to go find and dance at the "Limelight" in New York. Maybe I'll tell that story another time.).

Anyway, tonight I went out to Brooklyn (Dumbo) to join this music jam party/performance combo (ShareDj something event...veeery cool and kinda avant-garde..but easy-digestible kinda avant-garde). I left the house at almost 11 pm, driven by guilt and loyality at the same time. My good old friend Gammon (from Austria) was in town with his band (Thilges3) to play a few gigs. He had told me about this months ago, and I had been looking forward to this just as long. Of course, the night of the first concert came and went. I didn't make it. The night of the second concert (thursday) I was determined to go and planned to abandon all motherly duties at 6.30pm sharp until the moment I received a phonecall from Dario (around that time) informing me of his running late. (ARHGGGH) ...fine, so momma was back on call...I start bathing the kids, get them ready for bed, etc. etc.
Dario finally shows up shortly before 8. Concert starts at 8.30 in SoHo but, I'm no 21 anymore. Me needs layers of make-up and the like, as well as heavy defrizzing action of appearing-zero-gravity hair due to earlier bathroom-moisture-exposure.
Finally leave house (dragging along friend Marta) at 8.30. Return to house at 8.40. Forgot directions. Traffic horrible. Get to SoHo at 9.30. Pay 5 bucks to get in. See last song of Gammon's band performed. ...
Soo, naturally I felt bad. Gammon was a bit disappointed, too... missing both concerts....mhm mhm mhm. I told him, it wasn't my fault but he accepted no excuses for lateness. I told him we'll talk again when he has kids ;) Then we went to the "Pink Pony" somewhere around there to eat and hang with the rest of his musician-friends. Apparently all of them had some kind of fame to them but ignorant as I am nowadays (concerning the music industry) I didn't know any names. One of them used to be the drummer for Iggy Pop... at least, one name I knew ;). Ask me something easy. (who is Jason Timberlake...wait...ehm...Timberland....ok, I guess, never mind...I can't even keep up with in-your-face-all-the-time pop culture).
Anyway, I promised Gammon I'll be there Sunday. Little did I know the Sunday event was set for 10pm in Brooklyn (gasp). I couldn't skip that one. Tired as I was today (got up 7am), I made myself some strong coffee, called everyone I know to please come join me on the long ride as to not fall asleep behind wheel, and finally got my friend Jessie to volunteer. Introduced (?) some more caffeine to system in form of Red Bull (that's why I'm still freaking up and typing, thank you very much) and hit the road. Getting there wasn't too hard; a bit unsettling (creepy but apparently hip neighborhood....well, maybe by day-light) but not too hard; To get into the building of the party we had to type in a code which we got from a voicemail number I copied from the web. It looked like an old (abandoned) ware-house building but once we stepped into the loft where the event was set, we entered a world of high-tech overload. Everyone was sitting or standing around with laptops, synthesizers, musical instruments, video cameras, projectors, and other gear. There were three screens to project the videos, which were being produced by the guests and the room was filled with music which seemed like a jamming session of electronic frequencies...surprisingly pleasing to the groove-nerves... There were maybe 40 or 50 people. I ran into Gammon and he informed me that I, once again, had missed a very cool performance of Thilges3...but, of course, he was happy I came down, regardless.

So, Jessie and I sat down on the floor and listened to the next group, which started just a few minutes after the general jam-session people where having. I quit smoking years ago but I lit a cigarette to puff on (yes, I still like the taste) just because I could. The performing duo was absolutely fantastic.
It was just a woman singing (adding beats and other sounds with her i-book), accompanied by a guy on an e-guitar (or..shit, was it a bass? this is embarrassing... I don't remember...all I know is that he also manipulated the sound of his instrument.... but I was so captured by this woman's beautiful voice, I barely paid attention to the guy. They call themselves "Gustav" ... and they reminded me a little bit of "Portishead".) .... click here to listen a bit

Anyway, so now it's almost 3 o'clock in the morning and I have so much caffeine in my system I could probably break night. I already walked the dog, cleaned the kitchen, got ready for bed... oh well, I guess I'll be surfing the net for a bit more.
so long ma' peeps. ;)

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

"kids say the darnest things"

Are 8-year-olds really that wise already?? If these "interviews" are real then I'm in for a surprise (maybe I should move out of the city before it's too late)...I didn't know anything about that stuff until I was in my teens, I think...
;) still... funny stuff.

> HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHO TO MARRY?

>>You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming.
* Alan, 10

>> No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry.God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with.
* Kirsten, 10

> WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?

>> Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person forever by then.
* Camille, 10

>> No age is good to get married at. You got to be a fool to get married.
* Freddie, 6

> HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?

>> You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.
* Derrick, 8

> WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?

>> They both don't want any more kids.
* Lori, 8

> WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?

>> Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.
* Lynnette, 8

>> On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date.
* Martin, 10

>WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR?

>> I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns.
* Craig, 9

> WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?

>> When they're rich.
* Pam, 7

> >The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that.
* Curt, 7

> >The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do.
* Howard, 8

> IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?

> >I don't know which is better, but I'll tell you one thing. I'm never going to have sex with my wife. I don't want to be all grossed out.
* Theodore, 8

>> It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them.
* Anita, 9

> HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED?

> >There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?
* Kelvin, 8

> HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?

> >Tell your wife that she looks pretty even if she looks like a truck.
* Ricky, 10

Sunday, April 24, 2005

sunday at the reptile show :/

so while other husbands (e.g. my friend Johnny) took their wives to cool spots such as the SoHo Apple store and little pastry shops in the village, my husband dragged me to the Yonkers Annual Reptile show, where I waited an hour and a half in the car only for him to come out with a bunch of geckos that resemble these cats without hair (i.e. disgusting) which he just couldn't resist buying. Granted I did finally do some reading after I got bored looking at the passing excentric show-visitors (leatherpants, wallets on chains, and hair dyes inspired by the colors of the rainbow).

He's put the geckos in a tank on the kitchen counter. Won't be eating there again, thank you very much. He's feeding them crickets now (ieeehhhw.)

Maybe, I'll set them free. freeeee.
Poor animals. ... Dario says I'm a hypocrite and I'd better turn vegan with that attitude. He's right... but you know ... at least, I buy eggs only from cage-free hens...and I don't eat veal. But yeah, I am being a hypocrite.

Friday, April 22, 2005

isn't this discriminatory?

so, I went out with Rosa last night to try and catch a movie. We never made it due to two major accidents on 96th Street (one on the north side and one on the south side). We managed to exit just before everything came to a complete still-stand (north and south). When we drove back up-town 2 hours later, people were still stuck behind the south-side accident scene, sitting on the roofs of their cars, waiting. To think what difference just an instant makes. Had I taken a minute less in the bathroom before leaving, I don't know what part of that accident we would have been in. I wonder what happened to the people in the flipped over car ... or the ones in the completely smashed one on our side...
Moments like this bring me back to my perpetual state of accident paranoia. I think this is why I never have had an accident and I've been driving since I'm 13 (obviously, legally only at 18..in Austria, that is.). I am humble enough to never underestimate life in traffic. I always feel lucky to make it from point A to point B, and never take it for granted (and I'd say I'm not a bad driver, at all). There are other people I know, however, who are so sure of their driving they never seem to travel with this fear in the back of their minds. Take Dario, for example. How this man makes it anywhere the way he drives remains a mystery to me...but I am grateful for whatever it is that keeps that man out of trouble. He is a speed demon, runs red lights, cuts people off, makes u-turns out of this world...it took me years to get used to it and to stop bitching. Sometimes it's even funny to hear the quiet snap of the backseat buckle and passengers' transformation from relaxed to concerned, when they first ride with him.

Anyway, so we didn't make it to the movie and instead strolled around Times Square which was, at 11p.m.(!), still packed with people. This is why I love New York. The city never sleeps.
Rosa's wish was some time in Virgin Records. When it was my turn, I decided we could use a bit of dancing. And so we trooped over to one of my old clubbing-spots - La Escuelita - a gay (men's) club on 39th Street. Thursdays used to be best to go there. It was always packed, pumping and I could dance as dirty as I wanted to without any worries of some dude trying to come rub up from behind. Also, gay men know how to partyyy....so we always had a blast. At 2a.m. they always had a drag-queen show, which was just great. And the whole thing cost us 3 bucks to get in. Now, this isn't too long ago. Maybe 2 years since I went the last time. On Thursday nights, the club was always frequented by mostly gay men but also plenty of straight girls and some straight men.
Yesterday, however, Rosa and I were stopped at the door.
"Boys only, tonight," the bouncer said towering over us.
What? I was in shock. Since when? Why? Can they do that? Come ooon.
"You can come tomorrow," was the bouncer's reply.
"Tomorrow is lesbian night and that defeats the purpose of me coming here. Then it'll just be some girl trying to come on to me," I said, moping.
"You sure are vain," Rosa laughed, probably happy she didn't have to go to a club at midnight. ;)
So, I've been thinking about this. Can they do that? Isn't that discrimination based on the list of those things one's not to discriminate about? ...gender..

hmmm. either way...this sucks. this was a great clubbing spot.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

blogging time

it's been a bit hard to find time to blog lately.
this is an update of what I've been doing... so if you're looking for an semi-interesting anecdote, check back in a few days when I hope to have posted something less boring than my to-do-list.

First of all, I've been taking a class this semester. I graduated in 2000 but taking a class once in a while adds some diversity to my day....HA HA..like I need more shit to do. But seriously, I'm glad I have a different kind of pressure in my daily routine. The pressure of getting stuff done for class. So, this is a digital photography & contemporary art class. The book we're reading is way too avant-garde for me (they call that photography?) but I love the fact that I have projects and critiques and an exhibition to prepare for.
The up-coming exhibit, of course, adds stress. I have decided to do interviews in combination with my photographs and I totally underestimated the work involved when doing interviews about people's life stories. I bought the "Illustrated Guide to Radio" from >This American Life, one of my all-time-favorite radio shows. If you have a few minutes to spare, I highly recommend you listen to one or two of their stories (all archived on their website). They have great (and, of course, real) stories.
If I had the time I'd be stalking Ira Glass to absorb some interview tips. Also, ...I'd have to be in Chicago...so Ira, you're off the hook. ... Look at me, talking to Ira, as if I knew him...or as if he'd read my blog ...HA .. time for some coffee to fix the loose connections in my brain.

ok. I'm back. coffee steaming next to me.
My friend Shelly just told me about this article she read in the Financial Times or something like that. Anyway, they calculated the following:
If you buy ONE grande mocca from Starbucks every day for five years you'd spend about the same amount you'd need for a downpayment on a house in Westchester (nice suburb of NYC). Now, I didn't do the math to double-check this statement but if this is true then I would have had the downpayment for a house in freakin' Fieldston years ago. (non New Yorkers: Fieldston is the mansion part of the Bronx/Riverdale.).
In light of these calculations I then made my way to get coffee at the diner instead of the Starbucks joint. I don't like Starbucks coffee anyway but I'm a sucker for their mocca.
In general, I'm more of a Dunkin' Donuts kinda girl.

ok. I should be working. so, I'll continue blogging later. thanks for stopping by and never lose faith when I haven't written for a while. I'll always be back. I've got way too big of a mouth to keep it shut. (and to the dirty minds in the audience: get your mind out of the gutter!)

Sunday, April 17, 2005

Handling Tantrums

I wrote this in a half hour for Maia's pre-school's newsletter (and since I didn't find time to blog this week I am posting this. If you aren't a parent, don't bother reading it...it's a bit corny, I think) :
----------------------------------------------------------
If there is one thing I hate dealing with it’s when Maia goes into temper tantrum mode. I have to be so adult and collected when really I want to scream right back at her for being so “irrationally angry” about that candy-bar I’m not giving her, or the dress she’s not allowed to wear because it’s 8 degrees outside.

Of course, I know the steps I should be taking when my little one goes into this inaccessibility mode, however, it’s another story to apply these steps. In the past (before having my second child last year), I’ve been obsessive about researching parenting issues but sometimes I need a reminder. Lately I’ve been so exhausted from work, school and two small children, I’ve resorted to watching Super Nanny or Nanny 911 on TV instead of picking up a book. But hey, if they can tame those little monsters on the show within a week then they must be doing something right. If this isn’t all staged, that is. ;)

Anyway, I’m a perfect example of today’s modern (somewhat educated) parent. I mix and match all kinds of advice and the other day I actually applied a word of wisdom I heard from that English super nanny on TV.
The show featured one family, which included a mother just as stubborn as her little daughter. Instead of dealing with the strong-minded child’s emotions, the mother let her own high-strung feelings get in the way and would just lock the screaming kid in a room for a time-out. Granted, the child threw a cup of water at her mother to get this punishment, it still wasn’t the right approach to deal with the situation effectively. Somehow I identified. Maia can truly get me to a point at which I feel utterly powerless, my nerves almost at the edge. If it were the olden days I’d be spanking her all day long (just kidding, she’s not that bad…especially as she’s getting older). However, I am really glad that I am an educated parent, for it reminds me of the fact that I am dealing with a small child and not an adult. She lives in a different world.
So, when Maia began falling into a tantrum stage the other day, and I was about to sit her down on her time-out chair to cool off, I did one thing different (Super Nanny in the back of my mind;). Instead of leaving her to scream it out for a few minutes, I gave her two options. I said: “Maia, you can stay here in time-out to scream and cry or you can calm down and talk to me. What do you want to do?” She took a deep breath, controlled her outburst and told me straight-up: “Talk to me, please.”
I couldn’t believe she actually told me what I was supposed to read between the lines. I felt so guilty for almost ignoring her emotions and just having her scream it out. They want us to talk to them. To hug them. To listen to them. At least, Maia does.
And that’s what I did. I listened to her and I gave her alternatives to the things she could not have. I said: “Honey, you cannot come with me right now but you could play a computer game for a little bit, have some gum, and when I come back we’ll go to the park. Ok?” This schedule update seemed to work. She knew what was coming and it helped her cope with the fact that she could not come with me at that moment.
Then I gave her a big hug and a kiss and I could feel her appreciation for this affectionate behavior even though we had just been bumping our heads. She knows I love her even when I’m angry and I tell her all the time.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

discovering the audio blog feature

this is an audio post - click to play



inspired by David Duchovny's audio blog I had to try it. soo cool and soo easy.

good news on my 3-yr old's career plans

Today my little 3-year old made me a happy mom (and I never thought that line works....but once she said it it was like an inevitable parent-pride-mechanism kicked in)....she said "Mom, I wanna be a doctor!"
I don't know if you remember the blog-entry with Maia's previous plans for her future. ..this was a few months ago when she proclaimed that when she grows up she will clean toilets (knowing that toilet brushes are off limits to her at the moment). ;)
Anyway, so today she says
- Mom I wanna be a doctor. And then a teacher.
- oh really? (happy euphoric imaginary somersault...which I am surprised by myself)
- yes
- and what kind of doctor would you be? I ask.
- a.....spooky doctor, she says.
- a spooky doctor? (my euphory fades)
- yeah.... and I'm gonna bite people.
- oohkayy.... (and silently "oh no, she's gonna be a psycho doctor and create inspiration for future Horror movie screenwriters...no, no... ok. let's focus on the positive....") ...and what will you teach your students when you become a teacher?
- I will teach them to be nice and kind...
- thank God, I think
- ... and how to watch Spongebob, and how to be a princess and how to be a black horse.

Maia is really a joy to converse with these days. She never stops talking and her mind takes her to quite funny places.
Also, .... I would like to capture this for myself...today she wrote by herself the following:
Beth, Howie, Mom, Dad, Nayla, I
'Maia' she can spell for a while now...but I wasn't aware she knew how to write Ys and Ls and Ws.
Every time I tried to help her...she'd tell me to be quiet... she always wants to figure everything out herself. If I try to intervene too much, she gets frustrated and drops everything....that's why I stay back with all of the alphabet stuff.... at least for now.... she has enough time for that later on but, of course, I'm psyched she's so into reading, writing, and all that. She'll probably be the opposite kind of teenager ;)
Let's see.

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

crazy stupid law suit

this is from an interview between my friend Evi and me. The interview is part of an art-project but since I've been meaning to blog the below incident for a while and never found time I just posted the part from the interview, in which I happen to tell that story:
---------------------------------------------------------
[...]
Sis: and now, on top of it all,..did I tell you this story?
Evi: nope
Sis: Rosa was in her car waiting in line to turn; in front of her were two cars. A brand new Lexus all the way in the front and a cabby just in front of her. ..and she was getting something from the floor or something and her foot slipped off the gas …so she very lightly tapped the cab in front of her. So, the cabdriver gets out of his car and makes this huge scene. There was nothing wrong, though,…no scratches on any of the three cars…the cabbie had also bumped the Lexus. The only thing that happened was that the cab’s license plate cover had fallen off. So, Rosa was like “you really wanna call the police? We’re going to wait her for 2 hours and this will cost you like 7 Dollars…here I give you 10 Dollars.” ..but he’s like “no no,…blahblahblah”, so they sit and wait there for the police. After about an hour someone from the auto-shop across the street walks over to the Lexus in front and hands the people inside a business card. And Rosa is watching this ..wondering. So, finally the police arrives (after like an hour and a half)…the cab-driver is already totally annoyed, ..he has to be somewhere or something…so, when the cop asks if he claims any damage, he’s just like “no, no…I gotta go.” So Rosa is like “what? You’re making us wait here for an hour and a half and then you’re not claiming anything?” ..so anyway, it was for nothing..
Evi: oh no…
Sis: a couple of weeks later she gets a letter …the people from the Lexus which also didn’t have a scratch on it, are suing her for 5 Million Dollars!
Evi: for what??
Sis: for whip-lash or something like that. I was like “what? Whip-lash? You went like 1mph…not even…” …so basically …a total scam… but she now has to go to court and all this ..
Evi: and she has to have a lawyer?
Sis: ehm..yeah…she has to do everything… but ..her ex-husband is a lawyer and he said that they already have a problem because they didn’t serve the papers to her…they handed the letter to her 15-year old son. …so that’s a loophole, right there. ......5 Million dollars…
Evi: (laughs)
Sis: A friend of mine’s aunt apparently makes a living out of this. She just sues people. All she does is going to court and looking for scenarios which allow for a lawsuit.
Evi: and nobody says anything?
Sis: nope. This is how it works here. You can sue for anything and people take advantage of it ...that’s why everyone is so paranoid. That’s why you can’t do anything…people are always scared to get sued.
Evi: and there is no judge stopping her? Telling her, she’s crazy and he’s seen her 5 times this week already?
Sis: I guess, not,…it’s the law. She can make the law work for her.

potential papal successors & muslim women leading prayer

kinda scary to look at that list of papal successor candidates... especially the one who considers homosexuality a "disease of the soul" ... geez.... imagine they pick that one. And hey, ..I didn't know they have altar GIRLS ...cool...and I'm not even Christian ;)
Anyway, if I were to pick one of those guys (and why do they have to be all men anyway)... I would pick Francis Arize. But truly, I did not read everyone's profile. Just about half.
Is there anyone on that long list who might suit that job better (in this day and age)?

Another thing I wanted to mention was this newscast I heard on NPR:
In New York City, a Muslim woman recently led men and women in prayer for the first time ever, according to organizers. And they had to hold the sermon in a church, for all mosks refused to let them lead prayer...or, I think, some of them were afraid of terror attacks..[click here for more details and a link to the audio file]
I had goosebumps for the duration of the entire newscast. This is huge.

Thursday, March 31, 2005

violating husband-wife boundaries...

so, this weekend I finally went where I hadn't gone before in the ever evolving husband-wife boundary issue. Inspired by some of my male friends' stories, how their wives routinely would throw out questionable (clothing) items of theirs without asking and them apparently accepting this fact of wife-control without any further arguments, I decided it was time to move to this deeper level of intimacy or whatever this kind of behavior could be labeled.
Weeks passed, as I over and over tried to throw out the one item of Dario's I had my eyes on for disposal for years. These old, strangely bleach-stained jeans of his, which I had nicknamed "sperm-pants" due to the nature of the stain's shape and appearance.
Knowing, however, that Dario loved these jeans I found myself unable to overstep this boundary. I just couldn't throw something out that wasn't mine.

One day, I came home as Dario was cleaning up a bit (a rare sight). He had garbage bags set up into which he had dumped large amounts of papers. Glancing into the bags (ok. rummaging suspiciously through them) I found a couple of my things which he had tossed out without asking. I was upset but my short-term memory is too bad to remember these little things and therefore makes it impossible for me to hold a grudge. I probably would if I would only remember.
Anyway, so I told him how this upset me.
"Hey, why are you throwing out my stuff?? I don't throw out yours without asking! That's just not right," I complained.
- "Ahr, I don't care...we have so much sh*t in the house. You can throw my crap out, too. If I won't notice, I don't care," he replied dismissively.
This permission must have registered somewhere in my leaking brain, for about a week ago I took my first step in throwing out Dario-accumulated-garbage WITHOUT asking him (->if I ask him, he always has plans for whatever is in discussion).
It was a crib-rail he had dragged in from the garbage three weeks earlier and which had ever since been standing next to the main entry. Ugly but apparently with potential. He wanted to turn it into a picture holder. Never mind the fact that he needed costum glass plates made and probably would have to saw off one end to make the thing look even.
Dario, I told him when he first brought it in, when are you going to undertake this project? You don't even have time to put up the pictures we have ready-made frames for. I waited a year for you to put up the curtains in Maia's room until finally Rosa did it. I just don't see this happening."
"Don't worry. Everything is planned," he updated me a few days ago not having noticed that I had thrown the cribrail out a week before. I didn't say anything; just felt really guilty, for I had forgotten (thanks to my brain-leakage) that at some point..not too long ago...he had given me permission for such action.
Anyway, yesterday he noticed the thing was gone and I finally had to admit that I threw it out.
He was upset and threatened to start throwing out all of my sh*t, too.
After feeling bad and guilty for about a day, trying to figure out why I would do such a horrible thing and this so isn't like me, I fortunately finally remembered his oral permission and held him to it. Of course, he kept on arguing.
Dude, I pleaded, I'm scarred, ok. I've seen you drag in carburators and other engine parts, leaving them on my foyer table for weeks. Heck, once you spent 800 bucks on an engine laying in someone's basement just because you thought it was a good deal. Never mind the fact that you didn't have a matching car, a way to move the engine from it's location, and no budget to be spending 800 bucks.
- I don't care... I'm gonna start throwing out aaaall your sh*t, he said as if I had said nothing of sense.
At this point of the conversation I just gave up.
All I know is that I still have plenty of things in my house that have no place anywhere but .. oh, so much potential to come into functionality ONE day.

Saturday, March 26, 2005

The Terri Schiavo dilemma

I'm sure by now everyone is familiar with the Terri Schiavo case.
A woman having been in a vegetative state for 15 years, awake but not aware the doctors say. According to her husband her living will was to end an existence as such. He has gone through 19 courts over the years, all of which gave him right. Terri Schiavo's parents are fighting the Supreme Court's decision of disconnecting the tubes... or actually, they have been disconnected and they want them reconnected.

Anyway, what this case made me ponder are two things:
1. Are there actually people who would like to continue their life tied to a bed not being able to move anything at all, being kept alive artificially? And what about a case like this? According to the story Terri Schiavo doesn't even know she is alive. Would anyone want to live such an existence...if they knew beforehand it's coming? I certainly wouldn't want to burden my family with such pain and cost..

2. And this one is a really tough one for me. So, ... if you believe in God you know that suicide is apparently unacceptable (throwing away gift of God and plan or something like that). Murder isn't very much the thing to do either... except when at war, if I'm correct.
So, what does a case like this fall into? Is it suicide, murder, or is it an acceptable death, for she wouldn't live without the medical assistance anyway?

...

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

asthma??

today wasn't a good day...or at least so far.
first of all, I didn't get much sleep for the 4th night in a row. Nayla caught a cold that once again has become so bad that she's begun weezing, and that all comes in addition to the constant lamenting about her errupting teeth. So, first thing this morning I took her to the pediatrician who once again told me that she won't call this asthma, yet, but then prescribed an asthma medicine and sent me home with an inhaler (or actually, a nebulizer). After I sat with little crying Nayla for twenty minutes in front of the pediatrician office's nebulizer, trying to get her to inhale as much of the medicated steam as possible, I was pretty worked up. The fact that every parent walking by inquired about her condition with empathy in their eyes, didn't exactly help. Unfortunately, I had left my cell-phone at home and I couldn't discuss my anxiety about the word "Asthma" with anyone. I surpressed any kind of emotional outbreaks and carried on as if nothing phased me.
When I got home, I listened to my accumulated voicemails and decided to return my boss' message first. Bad idea. I completely flipped. I cursed around like a hoochie-mama from the street, got loud, and finally ended it with breaking out in tears. I was so embarrassed. Never, ..I mean, NEVER has something like this happened to me.
I am usually way too professional and detached when it comes to business. In other words, business is business. However, this wasn't about the incompetent idiots from the Moving Office who I was bitching to my boss about, this was about Nayla and the fact that I hadn't talked to anyone about this, yet.
I apologized several times, told him not to pay me any mind, and to rest assured that I am not crying about this stupid job story.
I'm an idiot but really ... I don't care about anything at the moment, anyway. I care about Nayla and the fact that I'm going to have to give her steroids and some other crap when she is not even a year old.
The doctor says there are no side-effects to these meds....but I never trust blindly. Have to investigate myself (...Pulmicort Resp. and XOpenex).

Monday, March 21, 2005


Nayla tackling our pit

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

screaming lobsters?

----------------
hey johnny,
[...]
haven't seen arrested development in a long time.... sigh. but it sure is funny ;) . don't get to the TV very often. When the thing is on it's usually playing Cinderella for the 200th time. (<- I realize this sentence doesn't make sense in the mathematical world but I'm gonna ignore this fact for now).

won't be doing wine-tasting class with you guys... I don't really drink, in case you've forgotten [islamic up-bringing]. I've just very recently started to try alcohol [for the first time in my life] and all I can take is heavily diluted 'Malibu Pineapple' or a strong Tiramisu. ;) ... wine tastes wayy too strong to me.
Though, I do know what wine goes with lobster now. Bought lobster the other day (it was Rosa's birthday). I don't eat Lobster, either, so it was the first time I had to pick a live animal out of a crammed tank instead of packed meat from the next isle.
It was embarrassing and traumatic. On the one hand I wanted to bring Rosa her favorite dinner (lobster) for her birthday, on the other hand I was fighting with my principles. The whole lobster as a meal story is just too cruel for me. First they sit all crammed in this tank together with another hundred tied up fellow lobsters. Then they get sold and boiled alive.
I cried for like 10 minutes before I could actually take the kicking plastic-bag to the cashier. I cried in the car, too. And REALLY, I don't cry a lot at all. It usually takes a lot to make me cry. I'm not that girly but this really got to me. I felt so bad for them and I felt horrible for actively contributing to their terrible fate of being thrown into boiling water (aliiiive!)
someone told me (the next day) that they don't really scream when they're put in the water (and that they don't really feel pain) but that these high-pitch "screams" are acutally sounds from the shell coming in contact with the hot water. ... I'll have to see this study in writing before I believe it, but it sure made me feel a little bit better.

ok. I have to run.
ttyl,
s.

finally enabling comments

ok. I'm finally going to open up the comments section.
better don't trash me or I'll close them back up ;) ... or you'll intimidate me and I'll stop bitching altogether. I'm just that way. Too sensitive to what people say.
Too considerate.
That's why I didn't give this blog url to any of my friends (here in NY). I can write more freely this way.
Although, I've just opened my big mouth today and then had to share the url with my very dear friend Vern... who is probably going to comment me to death. ;) Don't trash me Vern! I'm no Fitzgerald, I know... I'm just rambling around.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

this school system could really suck

>---------- Original Message ----------------------------------
>From: JC
>Date: Mon, 14 Mar 2005 14:43:01 -0800 (PST)

[...]
>
>The boys are good. The older is getting really bad
>influencing at school. We need to get him away from
>that. The youngest just turned 4 the other day and I
>can't hide the grays any more. (sigh) Time flies. Oh
>well!!
>

>How are things with the hubbie? We need to catch up.
>
>Ttyl
>JC ;o)
>

---------------------------------------
hey JC,

oh my,...bad school influence is what I am really afraid of. NYC has some of the best schools, though... be picky:
http://www.insideschools.org/
http://www.nycenet.edu/daa/
http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9505E0D91031F931A25751C1A9629C8B63

Good luck! ... I am still mad at this system for failing Dario. He was such a geek when he started high-school but entered the worst school in NYC at the time (Alfred E. Smith). His parents didn't know better. They didn't speak a word of English. At first, he would religiously do his homework, come in at 6am for extra credit stuff, etc.
But then he saw how all the "hoodlums" around him would get 80s and 90s for doing nothing, so he tried the same and got away with it.
It made no difference if he studied or tried hard.
He made some really bad friends in HS, too. Just to survive. One of his buddies was one of the Gottis ;) .. I swear.
He saw kids get shot, stabbed, and teachers beat up. ... I guess, this wasn't the place where teachers would take an initiative.

Anyway,... where you send your kids to school makes all the difference. I think the mentality of the kids and the involvement of the parents is most important. You want kids to be kids, right... Not some mini-versions of the thug down the block. It's so sad and this system is pissing me off. Sorry to rant.
Do teachers care at all? Ok, this isn't a fair statement to the ones that do truly care and are involved but the scary thing is that anybody seems to be able to become a teacher, it seems.
There is this one guy I know,...he used to sell weed as his main income...just before he became a HS teacher.
sigh.
ok.
I'm off.
gotta do some more work.
ttyl,
s.

don't ever honk at a cop

this morning I woke up to a phone-call from my bank telling me we are majorly overdrawn. so much and so often that the overdraft fees went from $30 to $180, thank you very much.
i am usually religious with checking my balance and making sure I don't get screwed by any stupid fees, unfortunately, I forgot about a double-maintenance check I wrote to our building management a few weeks ago (when there was enough money on the account). The management company decided to finally post that check yesterday, completely overdrawing my account. Unluckily, this was just moments before everyone else decided to post their charges (from purchases I made last week), so I got charged an overdraft fee for each one of them (6 times).

And as if this wasn't enough, on my way home, I received another ticket for not wearing my seatbelt. I think, it was the same cop as last time.
"This is New York City", I mumbled as I handed over my license and registration, "don't you have better things to do than stop me for my seatbelt.." - "I'm going to pretend you didn't say this," said the officer in an equally angry and dismissive tone and I kept my mouth shut, remembering my last incident of bitching at the law. T'was the night before...no I'm kidding... it was sometime last year, I believe; I came to a stop behind a copcar triple-parking in a one-way street to talk to another couple of officers in a double-parked car. After about 6 or seven cars had lined up behind me, there was no more space and cars were now blocking traffic in the big intersection a few hundred feet behind me. So, I thought, this would call for a sign for attention and an encouragement to stop chatting. I honked the horn at the cops. Apparently not so good an idea. One of the officers stepped out the car and walked towards me, and may I note, with his hand on his gun. ;)
Anyway, I lowered the window to hear him ask me in amazement:
"Did you just honk at us?"
"ehm...yes," I replied a bit intimidated, "was this inappropriate?"
"I'd say so," the policeman countered, "license and registration, please."
"I only honked because I was worried about the safety of the drivers further behind."
... I really don't remember much what else he or I said but I have to really watch out for my authority issues. At least when it involves people with guns and the power to put me in jail.