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.

people who make nut and ball jokes...

hilarious ;)
so, does this mean in the future, you will refrain from interrupting people's normal conversations with your "dumb" libido motivated comments?
;)

xxx
s.
---------- Original Message ----------------------------------
From: Dario
Date: Wed, 9 Mar 2005 15:33:38 -0500
>
www.illwillpress.com/vault.html
>
>check out rant V the first on the upper left

sunday...bloody sunday...

40 years ago - today...was what they call "Bloody Sunday" (wait..today is Monday...did I hear this newscast yesterday?)
Anyway. here a quick memory refresh:
Monday marks the 40th anniversary of the infamous "Bloody Sunday" in Alabama, when hundreds of civil rights demonstrators -- black and white -- were brutally beaten as they attempted to cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Ala. The incident and the subsequent march led by the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. influenced the signing of the 1965 Voting Rights Act.
More info and the audio at:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4525046

America of extreme expression

an old highschool friend of dario's called the other day... one of the ones that didn't get killed, landed in prison, or went the wrong turn somewhere else. Every day I am upset about the way this school-system has failed (and still does) its students. But this is another story (which I might blog later).

I just wanted to talk about a curious cultural difference I completely forgot about until this old friend of ours called. He's actually a really nice guy. He must be about 28 now. Has three kids. The youngest is 6.
Anyway,...I am getting off the subject again... I'm such a fan of life...
So, as he ends his conversation with me he says,
"ok, then... Love you guys!"
to which I answered fumbling for words for a moment: "oooh,...we miss you, too".
I was embarrassed to have not been able to return the sentiment. This actually happens to me often. My very good girl-friends tell me this sometimes, and usually I manage to say it back but only because I feel put on a spot. And it's not that I don't feel deeply for my friends and that I wouldn't literally cut my hand off for them (is this an English phrase?...). What I mean is that I would give my life for my friends. ...Now, having said that I wonder ... why is it then so hard for me to tell them that I love them. Maybe it's because I just didn't have enough female presence in my teenage years (having grown up with my father and two brothers), maybe it's just me, ... but really I think, it's a cultural difference.
Austrians just don't do that. They don't tell each other this easily that they love each other. In fact, I don't even remember hearing this from my dad that often even though I know, how important we were to him. He actually refused to get divorced unless he gets custody of the kids.

I remember when I first came to the US, as an au-pair. I lived with this family in a suburb of San Diego and the woman came home the first night telling me that she was "starving to death". I was in shock. How could she say something like that, I wondered. How self-absorbed was this woman, with her house, her pool, and her 3 cars? Did she not know how many people on this planet were/are ACTUALLY starving to death? Obviously, today I use the word starve all the time...although, I must say, ...by the time I usually find time to get a bite to eat I really am "staarving". ;)

Other expressions, which would alienate a foreigner are:
"I HATE xyz." ( -> hate is a really strong word. I don't think I ever used it in the German language...except for maybe describing Hitler or the like.)
"fuck this" (fuck... in German everyday language? forget it...haven't heard this ever. It was very shocking to me when my au-pair host-mother used the word for the first time. ..I could understand...maybe the youngsters...but a grown, college-educated woman?? ...today, this is one of my favorite curse-words to vent with. ;)
"motherfucker" (this is probably the worst one. there is just no way you could say this in German... I mean LOOK AT IT!... I only use this word in two phrases:
"stupid mf." and "sexy mf.". The latter is hardly every used, for I am veeery picky when it comes to men.
As you can see, cursing isn't very popular in the German language. The words exist but only the mild ones are really used. And the more education you have the less you will curse but ..duh...that's pretty much the same here, isn't it? ..except for that "f" word. People looove the "f"-word no matter how high up they are.

Obviously, the above are just my personal observations. Maybe they are not true?
Maybe they just applied to my time growing up in Austria. Maybe things have changed.
Heck, they even have cheap talk-shows on TV there now. They also have more than 2 state-channels now and privately owned radio-stations (well, that's been for a while now). So, ... things have certainly changed.

who is to blame?

Dario is pissing me off. I asked him if he'd be ok if I go to the Dominican Republic with my girlfriends for a few days. Plain out, said no. First he was honest about his problem ... all he can think of is me in the DR, with a bunch of his own people, apparently the horniest folk on this planet.
So, what the f does that mean? I cannot be trusted to go there? All I want is a long weekend with my book on the beach. I don't care about anybody or anything social. I just want to be on the beach. Water, sun or actually preferrably shade, and my books. Maybe a couple of horse-back riding trips and long unimportant chats with my girlfriends.

But no, he can't have it. And after he realized that his first reason was kind of offensive to me, he made up other excuses. He ended his argument with the fact that he had been wanting to go on such trips way before I did.
So? What is your point? ... I have never been in the way of these plans. Have given him the go-ahead with every single one of them, including the trips he wanted to make to Miami Beach at Spring Break and we all know why people go there at this time of year.

If it weren't for me he wouldn't be traveling anywhere, simply because he doesn't organize shit. Oh, I'm so pissed off.
And now he's telling me that I have wasted his whole vacation time with the trip I am planning to Austria. DON'T blame me! I asked you before I booked, if you wanted to go and you said yes. Now he is telling me, he never wanted to go and he's said that before. Point is, I asked him before I booked anything and he said yes. He just cannot blame me for messing up his traveling plans now. But he does. And it makes me feel like shit because I don't EVER want to be accused of making someone do something they do not want to do.
It's like one of my pillars of relationship ettiquette. Right next to honesty and loyality and all that shit.
ok. I am cursing to much.
I'll stop bitching now.

It seems that we like to blame our partners for our unaccomplished shit sometimes. I, myself, would like to blame Dario for a thing or two. Things I haven't done or accomplished due to his passive-aggressive behavior. I don't need much to be steered off the things I would like to do. I am such a f-ing push-over.
But here I go, I am blaming him...when REALLY I shouldn't, for it is my own fault. WE are responsible for our own happiness.
Although, by not being ok with me going to DR now, he IS to blame for my unfulfilled happiness.) ;) shit. can't apply my general Zen formula today.

can men and women be friends?

well, given the fact that a lot of my friends are guys and when I was younger most of them were (what can I say, I always was kind of a tomboy) I should answer this question with a YES. And I am .. but I am saying this with the awareness of the fact that even though women can have male "friends", most of those "friends" would probably like to have sex with her and/or would do so if circumstances would allow so.

This post is for a particular friend of mine. He is just too freaked out by the fact that he might like me and thus cannot be friends with me (out of loyality to Dario, I suppose). Why not? Most of my very good male friends used to have a crush on me. It's OK! Nobody cares.
Now, if I were a slut..then this would be a problem. Fortunately, I am not. ... In fact, even if I were single, I wouldn't be with ANY of my male friends. This is why those relationships work for me. I have no (sexual) interest in them whatsoever. I like them as people...no gender attached.
One of my best friends, Vern, actually told Dario himself that he used to have a crush on me. He could have kept that to himself but I agree with him ... it's no big deal.... as long as nobody acts on it... geez,..I mean, I know this guy so long, ...he used to have a crush on a new girl every other week. ;) Lucky man. Or ...just 'man'? ... I can't even remember the last time I had a crush on anyone.
Actually that's not true... but really, it takes years for me to meet another person I find attractive ... if this is the case I usually don't mingle with them at all.... I'm too aware of danger. Don't want to get in a mess.
Dario on the other hand seems to have no problem hanging out with girls he likes.
AAAAAAAAAASSSSSHHOOOOOOOLEEEEEEEEE. ( <- obviously, I appear to have some latent and unresolved issues here).
;)

well, so ... to my dear friend, who I miss a lot (AS A FRIEND!) ... get over it already and please, let's talk again...and hang out like we used to.

Friendship can be a beautiful thing. Even with a female. Try it. ;)

mos def being nice enough to stay still for a picture

saw mos def, alicia keys, and my other peeps

ok. they're not my peeps, but I did see them at an occasion I find myself most lucky to have been able to attend. The DEF Poetry Jam 2005. got tickets for the HBO taping of this show as a birthday treat for my friend Tricky but he knows as well as I do that these tix were just as much a treat for me as they were for him.
so, we took thursday off and made our way downtown to stand in line for an hour and a half in the freezing cold. wasn't too bad though; got to talk to one of the bouncers who had the most interesting life story... came here as a kid from Cuba, enjoyed a still strict school system, was a cop for 11 years, quit when his partner and he were shot in the head during an undercover operation, became a high-school teacher, now teaches junior high and works as a bouncer, has 3 kids; ... he told us a lot of stories from his time as a cop and as a teacher. the one I remember most is the one of this guy he used to look up to when he was in school himself. he used to enviously watch him through the window, hanging out in his fancy clothes talking to the girls while he himself was stuck in class. oh, how much he wanted to be him.
10 years later. one of his first arrests. the skinny man with the sunken eyes he puts handcuffs on for drugs-dealing looks very familiar. he looks up his file. it is no other than the fancy, class-cutting guy he remembered from his school-days.

although my toes were frozen little stubs I was happy with anticipation. bouncer-man had told us about the even colder wait the night before and how Alicia Keys herself had come out to sing to the crowd. so I waited in great anticipation, hoping she'd have mercy on this crowd, too and come out to sing. ... but I guess, it wasn't cold enough...

once they finally let us in, the room was almost full (it was the Supper Club on 47th Street). ushers hecticly seated people according to some system I didn't get.
"anywhere but the stage", I told Tricky.
"you two!" one of the head-ushers called "on the stage!"
shit, now I'm going to be all self-conscious [about the fat-belly-exposing-boob-misaligning-shirt I had unhappily chosen due to laundry day], I thought.
so, I kept my coat on for most of the show. ... now I realize, this must have looked strange and probably must have drawn more attention than if I had taken it off. Oh, well, ... so I'm going to look stupid on HBO...whaaatever.

either way, I had a fantastic time! Almost all of the poets were excellent. the creme de la creme, so to say. Mos Def was/is a cutiiiie-pie, although he probably wouldn't want to be called that. I guess, no man really wants to be called that.
this is why I resisted my very strong urge to shout out how cute he was, or tell him about the CUTENESS of his dimples, when I strategically moved him around the stage to get enough light for my picture of him (after the show).
what I like about his is that he is just so totally himself... so relaxed, ...and come to think about it...exactly the things I sometimes want to slap Dario for. ...like when he wears his cap crooked (in a really ghetto/highschool kinda way). ;) I guess, it's all ok, as long as the person isn't affiliated with me... otherwise I just don't get myself.
Another example is 50cent. Love him. Like his music and his whole style but would never go out with someone like that, of course. Dario isn't even allowed to wear a bandana around me. ;)

so, .. that's my recount of my wonderful DEF poetry jam experience.
Alicia Keys was there, too, by the way. She did a piece of her new book, which I didn't know she wrote. no singing, though, and that's what I really love. Her voice is magic.

ok. I should be working.
oh, but first I'm going to attach a picture ... the one I took of Mos Def. :)

no more sex on Valentine's

the headline might be misleading. it is not the caption for a sex-story with a bad ending but the mere statement of what we have come to (and I don't mean this in a sexual sense;)

I remember, before we had two kids, I used to make Valentine's Day special. Despite Dario never being able to keep up with romantic display (at our first Valentine together he gave me a TV and VCR - granted I had just moved into a new place...I would have been very happy with flowers and a CARD.... just couldn't get all sweet about a TV).
Back then I would march to the lingerie store every Valentine's Day and get something special...not just some new underwear, but some sort of stupid clichee porn-scene inspired outfit. All outfits were equally uncomfortable (e.g. who wants to have a chain thong up ther a**) but D certainly had a happy grin on his face when I performed clumsy striptease to Missy Elliot or Lil' Kim. Sometimes I would bake a heart-shaped cake (shut up, I know it's corny). I'd always get flowers, and I'd make sure we had a candle light dinner....no matter who much D complained about the flickering light bothering his eyes and that he would prefer to clearly see what he is eating.
Only thing remaining from these special Valentine's Days is the candle-light dinner. And the meal wasn't really self-prepared either but came out of a bag (I recommend : Skillet Sensations!).
By the end of the meal it was almost 11pm and after cleaning up and preparing Maia's school stuff for the next day, we more or less fell into bed too tired to even make out. We somewhat managed to move closer and somewhat hug each other while we fell asleep, which by the way only took minutes.

We gotta get more sleep. But last weekend was a killer. On Sunday Dario worked 19 hours straight while I was taking care of the girls all day and through a rough night. D came home at 5.30 in the morning and naturally couldn't get up with Maia as he usually does. So at 7 am I had to get up with Maia, after a whole night of no more than two consecutive hours of sleep.

oh well, hopefully the old days will come back in some form.
At least, it's not only me anymore who is too tired to get it on (i.e. always the one asking for an extra day).

that quote I found

so, turns out that quote I found the other day was first introduced as a serenity prayer for AA. oh well, either way, it couldn't have applied more to my situation.

just saying.

the power of 3-year olds

3 year-olds have an amazing power over the nerves of their parents, and if this isn't the case then I really suck at this motherhood thing. I'm probably not the worst mother of all but I am definitely no Brady-Bunch mom either. I am so afraid to alienate my daughter one day. Now she is still little and doesn't hold a grudge, wants to make up, etc. ... every quarrel is a short-lived emotion. It's a rollercoaster ride all day long and that is what eventually will get to your nerves.
Maia can go from perfectly happy, to screaming tantrum, to angry spasms, and back to perfectly happy in a timeframe of just a few minutes. It is amazing. The key variable in each hurdle of the day is my reaction to her behavior. Needless to say, if I manage to stay calm, collected, cool and above all things any tantrum can be handled and taken care of (i.e. Maia back to cooperative behavior) within 10-15 min. max. If I, however, as I do so often when cranky, sleep-deprived, hungry (and I am talking about Maia AND me), lose my cool or refuse to sweet-talk her then we're doomed. Things just go spiraling down when I can't get my stubborn mouth open and remain the adult in the situation. Unless you have a 3 year old you will probably not understand.
It is unbelievable what power they can get over you and your behavior.
This is why it is best to always read a lot and talk to other (better) parents. Reading helps me remember why they do what they do and how perfectly normal it is and keeping in touch with other (seemingly more collected) parents keeps me connected to people that I can call to take my toddler for a few minutes before I jump out the window.

Dario at work all f-ing weekend long isn't helping. Rosa calls me a weekend-widow. I am just resentful.
When by noon, Maia was in the middle of her first major tantrum of the day, while I was trying to feed a tired baby I began to wondered how I could possibly get out of this situation only to realize that there was no way out. Leaving Dario wouldn't change a thing, for I would (despite all parenting stress) not be able to live without my girls, thus former situation would remain the same all week long.
However, there would me no resentment towards Dario (being absent) and I would probably handle things better. Divorced moms often confirm that things got easier after leaving, even though they had the kids by themselves. It's something about a mindset. You're on your own that's it. No expectations of anyone else. You just deal with the situation.
And since I am in a similar situation - one that I cannot change - I better learn how to deal with it. A little later, I stumbled upon a piece of embroidered cloth Dario had been holding on to for years. Someone gave it to him when he was still a teenager, after his father had passed away. I never actually read what the sewn on quote said but I knew it was something religious, since I could make out the word "God". Non-religious as I am I was never interested enough to open the cloth to see what it said. Today, however, I unfolded the cloth and read it in hope for a sign or some inspiration or something. I'm really not sure why I opened it, the latter is just my explanation of how my subconscious might have been at work.
This is what it said:
"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change those things I can and wisdom to know the difference."

I couldn't believe the appropriateness of the quote at this very moment, this day. I left the cloth unfolded and put it on the counter. I didn't feel much better about my situation but I felt grounded and not alone.
A little while later, and I am not kidding (!), I turned on NPR and the moderator is reading this exact same quote. Apparently it was a quote by Reinhold Nipur (spelling?), some Christian realist of the mid-20th century, who inspired a whole bunch of people (religious, agnostic, political, etc.).

My life saver today was Rosa. She took Maia upstairs to play with Lucas for the rest of the afternoon. I felt like a failure but I was glad Maia got the treatment she deserved. Loving, patient treatment. She is only 3 years old!

Later on I took her to the playground and my night-time readings were pure reflections of my guilt "Mama, Do you Love Me?", "Always, CopyCub", and "How do you Feel?". Why couldn't I just talk about the day? Well, not tonight... but I communicated via her bedtime stories and I think she got it.
God give me strength and PLEASE...more patience.
Thanks.

i suck in the supporting wife role

I have supported D in a lot of decisions and rough patches in our lives together. I have made sacrifices and I've done stuff I wouldn't do just because I love him.
But we are at a new stage.
I don't want to be the sucker anymore.
I've spent years now being alone with the kid(s) after full days of work because he was taking extra-long to finish school. I have been looking forward to the beginning of this year with great anticipation, for Dario had finally finished with his last class and was about to graduate (i.e. no more long, lonely and work-intense evenings but parenting team-work as it was initially planned.)
When Dario threatened to leave me if I don't give him children I told him very clearly how I felt.
I did want to have children but I was in no rush. Early 30s or so would have been fine for me. I'm a realist and I observe well. I knew that having kids meant the end of my own life as I liked it (filled with interesting activities). I told him we were too young but he insisted.
So, I gave in.
And not that I am unhappy to have kids. I love my girls to death but it is hard work (at least now that they're still so small) and D is just not living up to his part of the deal as much as I would like it.
I've slipped into the traditional wife-role without noticing. I cook (well, sometimes), I clean, take care of the kids, I manage the household, and I bitch. It seemed inevitable...

Anyway, .. now he just started his own business and as one can imagine this means many many hours of overtime (i.e. once again many long evenings and, in addition, weekends of me playing single parent). If I wouldn't work full-time this might be a bit easier to handle but not this way.
I resent him for his absence. So, when he then comes home late, having missed me, being nice, etc. I have a very hard time to return the feelings.
In my opinion, this isn't the right time for him to start a business. He has two little children and a full-time job. He seems to underestimate the amount of work this will require of him. There will be no more family-time for him.

When I asked my (single, mind you!) friends, they all thought I should be supportive and stop bitching. I was in shock. How could they give me such advice? I mean, it's what I need to hear to make it through this without leaving D, but as strong, emancipated women of the 21st century, how could they tell me to quit my job (i.e. give up my thing), stay home with the kids, and support D in his ambitions. In other words, I shouldn't be complaining.
I guess, I have too much testosterone in my system, for I am having a very hard time coping with this attitude and with this situation all together.
I don't see why I should give up my ambitions so he could realize his.
His are only about money and I give a shit about money. He wants to live better, make more money...
I DO NOT care! Of course, I want financial stability, and live normally (i.e. not in poverty, which considering the state of this world is probably what IS normal) but I don't care about money and I don't care about luxury. As an addition to my life ...ok ... but not in sacrifice of something else (in this case his presence at home).

I've always said it isn't important how much money you have. It doesn't give you happiness. I would never choose a man because he has a fancy car or has a fat salary. In fact, it's a bit deterring to me, for I associate this with cockiness but that's just a prejudice, I suppose, for I know a couple of men who have good paychecks and are still humble and sweet and not arrogant at all.

Ok. I really needed to vent.
How am I going to do this? ... What's the point of a family if one part is always missing in action.

why you cannot curse at your woman

D and I are having this on-going argument on whether it is ok for a man to curse at his woman the same way as she curses at him.
To be more specific: Is it ok to call your wife a bitch/hoe/cunt whenever you're mad because she calls you an asshole or stupid mofo when she is mad.
D's opinion to this is that there should be equality and man and woman should be able to curse at each other equally but really he doesn't like name-calling at all (,thank God).
My opinion is that there is more to it.
It's just not as bad (loaded) to call a man an asshole when mad but to call a woman a bitch or a hoe or, worst of all, a cunt is unacceptable for it is way too harsh in comparison.
These words are too hurtful to a woman. They compromise the respect which should be omnipresent in a relationship.
It is like calling your man a loser. Although, it is a completely different word, it's charge is similar.
I would never call D a loser.... no matter how mad I'd be... and believe me, there were times in our lives in which I wanted to shout this at him all day long. However, I would never purposely pick something to hurt the person I care for...
That is a lie. I did once. After he did his whole virtual cheating thing, I called him fat or something like it (I am such a bitch ... notice how it's ok to call myself or my girlfriend a bitch).

anyway, a note to the fellas ... don't call your woman a bitch (or maybe American women are desensitized to the word...I don't know). Just think of a white dude calling a black dude the n word. Doesn't matter how it is meant (even in today's desensitized way where it seems to often just mean "guy", "dude", or "friend")... it is just NEVER ok. It won't ever go down the right way for the black guy. Or am I wrong? ... Granted I am not a black man ... but that's just what I think.

what is a soulmate?

I've been wondering lately...
what exactly is a soulmate and why are people always in search of theirs? Is a soulmate the exact replica of your character (or some sort of close version?) or is a soulmate someone you just connect with on a different (deeper) level than with others, all regardless of similarity in character? And if this is the case, then why do people think their soulmate might be the best match for them in life? For if the latter statement is true, and a soulmate is merely someone you connect with deeply then that doesn't mean they would function well in some sort of permanent living arrangement, does it? Or is this an inherent (assumed) part of "connecting deeply"?
Also, ... is a soulmate someone you would always be physically attracted to? Can one go without the other? Or is it inevitable? Or.... hmmm.... I really ought to ask someone who can answer this.
But I really don't know who I would ask. . . .

blogging sucks sometimes....maybe I should enable commenting, after all.... so I can get feedback. ... but if nobody would say anything then I'd feel stupid and lonely ... and stupid (again) ... and then I'd probably stop blogging and make myself get back to life where I actually communicate with other people rather than share my thoughts with a flickering computer screen (and ..btw... the "flickering" is really happening here... gotta do something about that.)

well, there is my e-mail somewhere here... if you read this and you think you have really thought about this question of mine then hit me. I'm just curious what people think...what wisdom one might have accumulated....and this isn't something I can look up in an encyclopedia or something.

What animals would we be in seaworld

So, Maia sits in the tub and says:
"Mom, I'm a mermaid."
"You are?" I say.
"Yes," she answers and pointing at her 9 month-old sister splashing all over the place, "and baby is an octupus. .... and Daddy ... Daddy is a whale."
"ah nice. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to hear that," I comment, "and what am I?"
"you, mommy.... you are...a shark."

I'm not sure if I would have rather been a whale in my daughter's projection of our characters into the marine world but a shark? Come on, I'm not that bad.
I'd see myself more like a dolphin. In fact, if there is such a thing as reincarnation then I would like to be reborn as a dolphin (preferrably the type, who doesn't hang around with tuna too much).

don't talk to strangers....(the continuation of my lost cellphone story)

A few posts ago I mentioned how I had lost my cellphone and how I was going to meet this guy Jose and his friend to supposedly get it back.
So we had agreed to seven o'clock at the bus-stop (stupid idea, by the way, if you are meeting someone you don't know, for surrounded by dozens of people you don't know). I didn't make it until about 7.30 and the results of my unpunctuality should teach me a lesson never to be late again.
So, there I stand... waiting. I call Dario, who tells me Jose just called to tell me he's a few blocks away or something like that (at this point, another note to myself: don't trust Dario's messages. There are always very vital parts missing.)
So I wait and wait and suddenly this guy steps next to me. So close, he's almost touching me. He pulls out a phone and starts dialing a number.
"Jose," I think... "or maybe his friend"... and stupid (i.e. not very "streetsmart") as I am I ask him directly: Are you Jose?
I should have been able to tell by the liquor in his breath, or by his smirk when he said yes, or by the way he aggressively tried to come on to me in the following conversation but I didn't trust my instincts, given to all of us (for GOOD REASONS!) through our genetic make-up.
So, when he after minutes of me moving away from him while we were talking still didn't get the message, I just hit him. Well, actually I sort of pushed him back on his chest and told him to step back already.
I can't believe you just hit me, he said readjusting the puffiness of his down-jacket.
I'm gonna hit you somewhere else if you don't stay back, I said.
Can you now please focus and tell me where Jose is?" I asked to which he answered under his breath,"oh, my dick is so hard right now."
"oookayy. I think I have to go now." I said stepping away quickly.
"f*** the phone" I thought and to the crazy dude I said "I'll be back. Just tell Jose to call me when he gets here."
Unfortunately, he didn't follow the distractive instruction of staying put.
"let me walk you!" he exclaimed.
"no, no that's ok." I said "you stay here in case Jose gets here. I'll be right back. Just have to go feed my kid." after which I began jogging away (don't run from dogs, they'll start chasing you, I thought).
My car was only a few hundred feet away and I didn't want him to see me getting into it.
Unfortunately, he must have been right behind me, for when I got into the van and THANK GOD locked the doors immediately (9 years in NYC...at least I learned something), he was already knocking on the passenger side window.
Still pretending everything was ok and dandy (as not to get him started) I opened the window a little.
-Can I get a ride? he asked.
-Are you f**ing crazy? I replied.
-Whyy?
-First of all I am a woman - alone in a van with tinted windows. Second, after what you just said I'd prefer to get away from you a.s.a.p.
-Oh. you heard that?
- Oh. yes.
- You know what it is.... I just popped a viagra pill. That gets you horny as shit.
- You took a viagra pill? How old are you?? I asked, trying to keep the conversation light since my car was blocked by a bus next to me.
- I'm twenty-seven.
- No, you're not, I said in disbelieve, you look more like you're in your early twenties.
- No, I'm twenty-seven. ...
- So why the hell are you taking viagra? Isn't that screwing with your system. (and hopefully it will screw with it right now so you can drop to the ground and leave me alone, I thought.)
- nah. it's great. you can fuck for like 3 hours straight.
- oh. that's nice to know. good for you. (f**ing bus, move already).
- so, can I get a ride please. it's just up the hill. to my boy's house.
- eh. I DON'T THINK SO." I said with a big smile, to which he replied with pushing his arm through the window to reach the unlock-button for the door.
At this point, I just pulled out of the parking spot. Thankfully, the bus had just begun moving and I didn't hit it.
I cursed all the way back up to my house.
Stupid phone. Stupid me. Stupid Jose. ...

I was just gonna let it go but a few days later I stumbled over Jose's number on my caller i.d. and decided to call him after all to tell him how disappointed I was in him and this act of sending his stupid potentially raping ghetto friend.

When I confronted him, though, he didn't know what I was talking about.
What the fuck are you talking about? You're trippin'. We were supposed to meet at 7. You called my voicemail at 7:30 so I called your house to say I'll check if my friend is still around and then I'd be there soon. and when my boy didn't answer his phone I called your house back to say I'm not coming.
- you did? I asked. (and I'm gonna kill Dario to myself).
After me telling him the story Jose asked me what this guy looked like.
- dunno I said, early twenties ... puerto-rican maybe.
- my friend is a 200 lbs white ni**a, he said.
white n... I thought. wow, how the language has traveled. ....
To prove his innocence to me he insisted on calling his friend (who still had my phone) on a conference call at this very minute.
Once you hear his voice you should know if this is who you met or not, J said.

So, it turned out I addressed a complete stranger at the busstop. But it couldn't be just any stranger. It had to be the one who was drunk, feisty, ghetto, and high on viagra.

;) I really ought to stop being so stupid.

sex and the city... and important notes on the recipe for life

first of all, for all these years I thought it's sex IN the city....but whatever, doesn't matter (also, I just said "all" twice in one sentence and maybe I shouldn't start writing blogs at 3 o'clock in the morning.

anyway, so they finally released sex in...wait AND the city on DVD and since my broke ass can't afford HBO everyone around me had to keep their mouths shut for months about the ending of the series. Of course, I didn't anticipate that it would take that long for it to appear on DVD, so now I am completely old news and nobody will want to discuss that ending with me.
oh well.

but watching the last four episodes tonight (yes, I watched them all in a row) brought me back to a more timeless realization I just had yesterday. Well, it was less of a realization but a motivated thought. Friends of mine (John and Carla) reminded me of something that I forgot and I am infintely grateful to have been reminded of.
You have to preserve your identity at all costs. Don't lose yourself.
Also, and this I am writing down more for myself... as a reminder:
Your job isn't who you are. It doesn't matter what benefits it has, how secure it is, whatever,... you don't want to wake up one day and realize you're dead inside, for you have let go of every passion you ever had in life.
I have already lost so much. I cannot play the piano anymore and for me this is an immense void. I haven't taken my camera into the streets for years. And I have not picked up a brush in ages.
Work is not your life.
Happiness is priceless.

Dare to quit. Dare to make changes.
Of course, I have two kids, so I can't quit ... but I'm gonna drop that unnaturally straight work-ethic and hopefully someone will fire me one day and I'll get to do what I really want to do.
Someone needs to push me over that plank.
Ahh, I'm so full of shit.
But I'm working on it.

PS: Maia (who just turned 3) watched her first movie today. It was "Cinderella". I tried to talk her into Peter Pan, Lion King, or something I might enjoy, as well but she wanted to watch something with a "princess" and so we had to watch that rattely old Cinderella tape.
Wasn't too bad actually. Cute thing was that Maia asked me about half way into the movie if she could talk to "that lady".
- "what lady?" I asked
- "that lady."
-"the evil one?"
- "yes."
- "well, what would you like to tell her, honey?"
- "ehm...I, I wanna tell her not to be so.....so angry." ...and then to the TV she goes, "excuse me, excuuuse me. ... don't be so mean, please."

it was too cute ;)

bad spelling

---------- kelly writes Date: Thu, 6 Jan 2005 00:46:23 EST
>hi,
i'll be on campus tomorrow thurs 1/6 around noonish
> call me on my cell and maybe we could do lunch
>kelly

---my reply:
good thing I'm reading this mail on time... sigh. it's friday. :/... LET ME KNOW when you're on campus again! although ..at the moment I am working from home, mostly. ;) anyway. it's been too long.
s.

--kelly writes : Fri, 7 Jan 2005 23:07:06 EST>

>oh fuck you...
>i hate friends with kids only worse than those with kids and jobs....
> too much of disappointment and pain in the ass.
>>love ya,
>>kelly
>>p.s. there is always the hope of a boarding school future, but perhaps i'm too optimistic as usual.
>>by the way i'm auditing a class on neichitz with papas, luckily he doesnt want to read my shit (no papers) >>so it's all the joy and none of the anguish...
>what are you doing tues and thrus at 2pm>let me know>

hey. this sounds like a great idea.what's the class's number...so I can look it up (course description)...neichitz??
you don't mean nietzsche, do you? ... shit I'm not even sure if I spelled it right myself. if it is a class on that dude we should probably figure out how to spell his name... ;) ...
hmm. been a while since I read any Nietzsche ..but I think I didn't like him.
anyway ->auditing class. best idea on improving my hectic life I've heard in a long time. (this sentence sounds grammatically wrong but I am too tired to figure out why. good nite. I'm beat.)
s.
PS: boarding school - good idea. how old do they have to be before I can send them? ;)

(post x-mas) trivial knowledge

a forward from my friend zoya:

According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, while both male and female reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year, male reindeer drop their antlers at the beginning of winter, usually late November to mid-December. However female reindeer retain their antlers till after they give birth in the spring. Therefore, according to every historical rendition depicting Santa's reindeer, EVERY single one of them, from Rudolph to Blitzen, had to be a girl. We should've known... ONLY women would be able to drag a fat man in a red velvet suit all around the world in one night and not get lost.

114,000 now?

anything I do seems irrelevant at this point.
so many people dead.
my day goes on but whatever happens gets put into perspective. I think about the extent of this tragedy all the time.

anyway. I am taking back one of my statements earlier... about my belief in people.
There are a lot of people out there who moved their asses to find a way to help.
On the day of the news of the tsunamis the American Red Cross received 18 Mio. dollars in donations.

so. I moved my ass, whipped out that overdrawn credit-card and donated, too.
now, at least, I don't suck all thaat much anymore.

if you have your wallet on you, click here:
http://www.usaid.gov/our_work/humanitarian_assistance/disaster_assistance/help/index.html
or here:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4248155

I feel very blessed and puzzled on why my life has been pretty good so far. Of course, I've been bitching but really... I am very lucky compared to all the people worldwide who have to endure so much suffering.
Is this all random?
Back I am at the question of What is Life all about?

Anyway, if you're greatful for what you have then go donate.

Very bad story from last night (cellphone guy meeting) I will tell a little later.
I am still shaking.

now what should I say to that? (lost cellphone story part#1)

so, I lost my cellphone a week ago or so. i switch my number the next day to an old-ass phone and begin checking my voicemail for messages left during my separation from my number.
guy leaves message ..."yeah, somebody called my phone from this number. call me back."
so I call and tell him that I dropped my phone on the street somewhere and whoever found it must be someone who knows his phonenumber by heart.
I convince him to help me get my phone back somehow.
guy is pretty street, as far as I can tell, but nevertheless quite honest. calls me back a few times with speculations about which of his boys might have that nice nextel. finally, after a few days he calls again and tells me he noticed one of his friends with his new treasure. It's my phone.
That's great, I say (trying not to say 'fantastic', 'fabulous' or any similar kind of dorky-white-chick or funny-gay-man words). "I'm so excited!" (realize, shouldn't have said that either. sounded just as above established stereotypes.)
"Yeah, well," the guy says, "I don't think he's gonna give it to you, though."
"Ehm, why are you calling me then?" I say. "Are you teasing me?"
"Well, maybe he could give you your sim-card ...or maybe you could work out a deal," he says.
work out a deal? I wonder, the guy found my phone...what kind of deal will he prepare for me? Will I have to buy back my phone?

mediator guy (Jose, I find out is his name) tells me once again that he's going to call me back.
Days pass by and he finally calls this evening telling me I could meet the guy who has my phone and I should set up a date and time.

Well, I'm really not planning to buy back my phone (given that I got it from my job...i.e. never paid a dime for it), ...and the sim-card won't fit in this stupid old phone I am using now anyway. But I am really intrigued to find out what the hell this dude is going to say (Hi, nice to meet you ...I ain't givin' you your phone, just so you know.";) , ...so I am meeting those two tomorrow eve.

Wish me luck.

50.000 dead and counting....

I just can't get over these devastating news of the earthquake (and tsunamis) at the coasts of the Indian Ocean. 50.000 people.... all the news of war casualties (civil, soldiers, whatever side) which have upset me over the past months (and years) are suddenly put into perspective. So much more shit going on in this world.
Of course, this is a natural catastrophe but that doesn't take away from its impact and its reminder of how little we matter (we humans ... in this history of the world...this planet).

I wish I could drop everything, organize a big troop of volunteers and get over there to help.
But my belief in people (and the sacrifices they're willing to make) is rather faint...
It takes a lot to take such action. A lot of faith and determination and a whole bunch of other virtues only a few are equipped with.

i suck.
(but as the world keeps turning I am putting in a moment of silence in light of this very terrible disaster.)

jobs on the horizon (where they remain)

got offered a pretty cool job (and with cool I mean well paid)... unfortunately there's no way I'd get down to Wall Street by 9am.
i can't even make it to my job which is a 15 min. commute by car...i don't think I can even term this kind of drive to work a "commute" ... .... if I didn't have two small children I would have sooo taken that job...just to move on already.
sigh .. here is the more detailled mail my friend sent me (the one of referred me):

>yo mama,
>it's paying betwn 65k to 80k a year that's a lot of money. staff photographer for the nasdaq. >they will buy any and all the digital equip you want. shooting mostly guys in ties. sitting on >your ass, uploading the daily images to the website and maintaining their archives.
>piece of cake for you.
>call me so you can be a rich bitch.
>kelly

NY vs Austria news

here some of today's headlines of NYC local news:

Ripoffs secretly for sale
Man hurled down garbage shaft
Homeless man pitied, killed
Ex-con shot dead by cops
2 hurt as cops nab driver in smash-&-dash
May lose license - for 82nd time
The Justice Story: The South Side Strangler

and here some of today's headlines from Vorarlberg (where I grew up in Austria):

(Arrested: Two thieves in Bludenz and Dornbirn)
(Illegal Race: Undercover police patrol stopped two people 'racing' in Bregenz.
(traffic accident in Koblach)
(recent study: half of all women betw.14 and 24 are in danger of becoming shop-aholics)
(continued avalanche danger)

what happens when the TV/PC stays off one night

I can tell you what happens. Quality-time, ...no kidding. It's almost too corny to blog but D and I had a really good time yesterday and not once did he stray away to the computer or suggest we watch some TV.
Haven't had that much fun with him in a long time.
He must be having an affair.

I JUST can't help it can I? ... but I tell you, everytime I'm suspiciously happy it turns out he's been doing some sh*t behind my back.
This time, I'll try to not notice anything.
Me like-y happiness. And isn't happiness a very vague concept anyway. It's subjective and fragile and totally up to one's state of mind rather than one's state of being (i.e. all physical circumstances). Being happy isn't that easy but if you're good at being positive it doesn't matter what life throws in your way. You'll just deal with it, move on, see the positive aspects, make the best of it.
Hey, don't you like my pep-talk? ... Now I just gotta learn to live by it. ;)

Amongst many little mishaps today (yes, it was one of those days...see "bad day anyone" post earlier somewhere) the one that certainly outlined itself as the highlight of bad luck (or stupidity on my part) was when I managed to spill coffee into my bag three ... I repeat THREE... times in a row. This happened in the waiting room of my physical therapist's office. People started shaking their heads. As I was cleaning up the mess, I fought my tears (of laughter) while trying to satisfy myself with whatever caffeeine was left in the sugary disgusting stuff on the bottom of the cup.
If it things get this ridiculous, staying positive is actually much easier than at other times. Then again, I might also be close to a nervous break-down at that point and might possibly mistake my quiet laughter for positive attitude.
;)

Maia the Toddler Linguist

we're washing our hands. Maia has two soaps to her disposal but, of course, wants my precious body&bath&whatever-anyway-too-much-money-spent-on-it soap.
"ok, but only a liiittle bit." I say.
she manages to squeeze a quite small amount on her hand. I'm amazed, for she usually goes for whole hand coverage (on both hands).
Feeling a bit guilty about my stingyness I explain: " Only a little bit because this is special soap. it is very expensive."
Silence. Maia rubs her hands obviously in deep thought.
Then she looks up to me and asks: "it's soap for pants??"
"pants?" I wonder... then I catch up to her analysis of the word she just heard..
"ex-pants-sive".

;)

moving on where/what/why?

Dario is once again ready to move on. Mr. A.D.D., I tell you.
Aren't you happy in our new place," I asked him, "I mean, we just moved here barely a year and a half ago. It's possibly one of the best deals one can find in NYC but already you are unhappy and want more or different things. Don't you like our view of the water reservoir or the GW Bridge? Do you feel cramped in our 1000 sq.feet? Is the $300 mortgage too low? Does it make the place seem less worth? What about the 15 min. commute to work? Too short?
- "no", he said, " I just want to move on. I'm ready. I want a house already. Or I want to move out of NYC. I've been here all my life."
- "did it ever occur to you that you might not be able to be happy? cause I'm seeing a pattern here. Your enthusiasm is great before getting ANYTHING that's new or different but it always wears off quickly and then your comments go from "I would be so happy with this [...]" to "I hate this [...]". ... the car, the dog, every place we ever moved to, ...you name it."
- "I've wanted a house for a long time. I'm ready."
- " I think you're romanticizing house ownership. It's no picknick. We are living from pay-check to pay-check now, how would we afford a house? Also, there is ALWAYS something broken in a house... always things to do and we both know you ain't doing anything unless we're at the verge of a break-up."

- "what about Austria?" he asked. "Are we going to move there or not?"

I really want to move back, I do. But I have come to the conclusion that this might be more complicated than I have thought. Before, I was only thinking about difficulties such as finding a job, me having to readjust to the Austrian work-ethic and coping with the fact that I will actually have to be at work by 8 a.m.
Furthermore, I worried about Dario's assimilation and employability.
It's just different over there. Much stricter. And Dario is worse with punctuality than I am.
Also, he speaks no German. ...
And what about the stupid politics ... and the lack of diversity.
Ok, granted ... politics over here very much annoying, as well....in fact, more so than anything else.... but I don't know if I could live in a country without black people. It would seem weird.
In fact, I don't think I could live anywhere in the U.S. where there is a lack of diversity... and I'm white (according to those damn check-boxes). ....
sigh... well..

AAHH. my boss just jumped into my office.
almost gave me a heart-attack.
I'm supposed to be working.... don't even have a pretend work-window up in the background, which I could quickly jump to in case of unexpected office-visits.
shit. ok. I'm getting back to work.
see. I'd be fired in Austria. ..It's even unprofessional to take any personal calls at work.
This widely spread practice here (chatting with friends online or on the phone) took me a while to adjust to. I still don't like it actually... don't have enough time.
ok.
i'm going.
bye.

haunted apartment?

I don't know if I have mentioned before that my daughter seems to be a bit psychic. She knew a month before I was pregnant. She sometimes knows who is going to call, who is coming over, and where she is going. ... So I've come to believe she's inherited a little bit of an extra sense from her dad. The latter's experiences I won't even try to put into this blog today. Too freaky.

anyway, ..so, the other night Maia comes to me, a flashlight in her hand, and tells me there is a monster in our room and how scary it looks in there. "Every dark room looks scary if you're fiddling around in it with a flash-light," I say and walk past her into the room to turn on the light.

As I reach for the light-switch of our little bedside table lamp I see something move next to me on the floor.
I almost caught a heart-attack. As I turned on the light I could see that it was Maia's teddy-bear (well, actually it used to be my older brother's) that had moved.
But really, it's hard to describe, for it happened at the same moment I reached for the light.
From my peripheral vision it looked like the teddy-bear had been dropped from a very low height.
I try to console myself with the rational thought that it had dropped from somewhere ... maybe because of vibrations I caused walking into the room?
Very lame rational explanation, especially if familiar with the room's set-up but I am clinging to it like the victim of a ship-wreck.
If I see ANYTHING of non-physical appearance in my beloved home I am moving out. Don't care how much blood,sweat, tears, and dough I've put into it.

However, grounded by this very spooky experience I brought myself to say out loud, "there are no monsters, honey..... ghosts maybe...but no monsters." As if that was going to make it ok.

Later on, as I was laying in bed with Maia (finishing her bed-time story) I investigated a bit more (since I was still a bit freaked out).
I asked, "so what does the monster do to you, Maia?"
"It pushes me into the stomach" she replied promptly.
"When does this happen?" I asked.
"At night, when I want to come to your bed."
"So,...you tell that monster to get away and to stop it, ok?"
"ok." she sighed.
A little while later, as she drifted off to sleep she mumbled: "Mami, ... the monster is not listening. It's not going away."

Kids really have a quite vivid imagination. ... But she's not even three, yet. I thought this starts later on. ... The whole imaginary friend... or in this case foe kinda thing.

and so the back-talking begins

it's bedtime. once again Maia has managed to procrastinate her daily fate by announcing that she has to poop, which could mean an indefinite time on the toilet with or without result.
So, there she sits, in the bathroom, a book on her lap, reading out loud. For the third time I approach her with the question, whether or not she's finished. girl ignores me.
"excuuse me. hellooo. I am talking to you", I plead.
she sighs... "well, you're talking aaall the time."
I'm in shock and perplexed I answer: "well, excuse me... I asked you a question."
she sighs again deeply, looks at me and says in her coolest voice: "what?"
"are you done?", I ask(without correcting her language...still shocked by her fresh tone).
"Nope." she finishes me up and goes back to reading her book.

Note to myself: need to work on disciplining skills.

got screwed >:C

got screwed big time. did this website for a discount price (half of what I usually charge as a favor to the person referring me). anyway, they screwed me, are not paying me.HEY, this is my blog I can publish NAMES if I want to:it is the South Beach Hostel in Miami Beach that has screwed me. Spent two months on the design, thanks to the manager who took weeks to reply to my e-mails and subtly pushed off work which was his on me (i.e. communication with online reservations agent, hosting company, registration comp. etc.).
Anyway, in the fall I finally got them to go live. explained that a website was a dynamic thing and edits will always hang in the air...they should go live, losing business if not, etc....so finally I got the ok to publish.then the owner comes around and says he wants to edit a few lines and change a margin/color/graphic here and there. I remind them of my discount price to them but do changes anyway (sucker that I am).Finally submit my invoice.Hear nothing back.Then get notice from the person who referred me to them that they're not going to pay me.Something about taking too long with changes or ..whatever. Realize that little manager bastard I had been dealing with used me to blame his unprofessionalism and tardiness in e-mail reply on when being confronted by his boss (the owner). Unfortunate thing is, though, that the manager and the boss are best friends or something so my word won't count shit.
So, I went to the site and realize that they are using some twenty dollar design someone threw together based on some generic template he probably downloaded off of some site.
ooooh. I got sooo screwed. 1500 bucks. ... good thing I made a 1500 bucks site for them as opposed to what I usually create. Then I would have been really pissed.BUT either way it's 1500 dollars. ... and I have 89 in my account...soo it's not like I didn't need it.BAAASTAAAARDS!!!!!!!
this should teach me. ... DON't ever do a job without a making a written contract before-hand.And if you do and they screw you, you better be evil enough to f*ck them over the same way afterwards.Unfortunately, I am not, otherwise I would mobilize my Hacker friends to take them offline for as long as they try to get on.Why do I have to be so bloody ethical? Why can't I be on the screwing end for a change? Why do I always end up as the victim? I'm such a stupid sucker. So many past-midnight hours... so much work down the drain.

hopping with a bright red cane

hey carla,
thanks for the photo link.
always love to look at your travel albums (..live vicariously through you;) ... better make sure you're done traveling before putting any off-spring out there (well.."out there" wouldn't be so bad, I suppose... I should be more specific ... in YOUR house taking over YOUR life for the next 18 or so years;) ... am I being too cynical? oh well, I'm allowed to ...I'm a second-time mom at the edge.

OK, here my book suggestion... Haven't read it, of course (like I have time to;) but am very intrigued to (supposed to be funny, odd, etc.) :
"Naked" by...ehm... I should look it up..hold on... ok, hope this link works when you click it: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0316777730/qid=1102003399/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-6683477-6728860
The book is by David Sedaris.

gotta go walk the dog now. sh*t, it's cold. don't want to. but dario (usually damned to midnight dog walking) twisted his ankle yesterday and has been hopping around with a cane since then.
He called me from the road when it happened. I had to hold my laughter, for he was telling me --whose 18 hour labor he had been present for -- how this was the worst pain he had ever felt and "oh, no".. he was getting nauseous. He was a bit insulted by my giggles and told me it's not funny. Honey, I told him, you twisted your ankle and you act like you got shot. To me that's funny.

Anyway, everytime he puts too much pressure on the bad foot he squeals like a girl. Does complain about the questionable look of the cane I got him, though. Apparently it's not manly enough for him (granted, I did buy it at the 99cents store. bright-red, shiny, and quite nicely shaped). However, may I add that he uttered this macho-complaint only a second after he had urged me to not change the radio-station, for it was playing his (and I quote:) favorite song in the whole wide world ... something by the Bee Gees.
I told him to reexamine the possiblity of him being gay, after all. Fine with me. I'd love to have a good excuse to finally go have sex with someone else. He told me to shut up and that he's just very comfortable with his sexuality. okey-dokey.

oh well. enough procrastination.
going to walk the dog now.
nite-nite,
s. :)

pop-up visits are ok

hey val,
really would love to come visit one day ...meet your kids and all...but I'm not getting my hopes up too high, for I can't even make it to my best friend's more than 3 times a year and she lives in Queens. ;)

HEY, but if you're in NYC (or the Bronx, that is)... feel free to come see us! Just give me a call. I don't care about pop-up visits either. My house will always be a mess (at least for the next few years), so I'm not even going to try to pretend I can keep it clean at this point.

I'm planning to take the kids to a holiday event in the Bronx Zoo this Sunday. They'll have live reindeer and lights ...well, I guess, they always have live reindeer there..after all, it is the zoo. ...
Anyway, ... let me know if you're up to it.

;) ttyl,
s.

changing my blogging format (it's for the better)

ok. so I've decided to change my blogging format the following way:
I will begin posting excerpts from some of my e-mails to friends. These usually contain similar information to what I blog and this way I'll save time. The way my life is going at this moment I just don't have much me-time at the computer anymore (unless someone starts paying me and I can defend it as having to work but we all know that ain't gonna happen especially if I keep on saying 'ain't' and use such bad syntax).

So expect e-mail style blogs.
I'm gonna copy/paste one right now.
hold on.

what my daughter wants to be when she grows up

I'm standing in the bathroom trying to fix my hopeless hair as Maia stands next to me obviously restraining herself from picking up the toilet brush, which I've told her is off limits many times. As I watch her in amazement (amazed that she is actually adhering to rules I've set up) she looks at me and tells me straight up (and I quote): Mom, ...when I grow up I'm gonna clean toilets!"

Oh, perfect. That's the kind of ambition you want to see in your child.
Calm myself with the thought that she's 2 and might still change her mind on her career goals.

I don't know how she does it

... has it really been that long that I haven't written. It's frustrating not to have time to blog. I am constantly blogging in my mind. Everything I see I want to comment on. Maybe I'll get a dictaphone so I won't forget what I would like to write down.

Was in training all week. XML. Good thing I don't work in Manhattan, although it definitely would be cool I would have even bigger motherhood guilt issues than I already have working mostly from home. Also, I'd be broke in a minute.

Spent 10 bucks on lunch the first day. I had a small salad and a bottle of water.
So, the second day I skipped lunch and went window-shopping, only that the window-shopping turned into real shopping and I arrived late back at class with a bag full with 250$ worth of clothing.

I can't concentrate. Tv on with strange children show, Maia asking to be fed, Dario not listening for is solely focused on not going outside of lines in one of Maia's coloring-books. Must hide box of crayons from him. Baby is trying to bang on keyboard next to me. ...

Before I log off... one book recommendation for every working mother ... it's hilarious... and at times like an exact documentation of my life.
Another advantage of commuting in and out of Manhattan every day -> get to read (on the train).
... oh... almost forgot here's the booktitle:
"I don't know how she does it"

ok. gotta go now. house to clean. bank to go to. baby to take care of. Maia to feed. work to do (piled up from last week while at training). calls to return.

sorryeverybody.com

A post-election thought...
http://72.3.131.10/gallery/1/

and so I went to see a geriatrics specialist...

yesterday I threw my back out lifting Maia into her stroller. spent the evening and night in compromising positions wailing about the irony of my rapidly progressing physical delapidation after I had just turned 30 last week or so.
this morning I made my way to the family practitioner, who I had picked out of the provider listing while being rushed by one of the Health Benefits people at my job. Usually I research myself to death about everything. I am a walking information center when it comes to the important things in my life ...well, that was all before I had kids.
Picking a primary care physician then (before kids): weeks of research on internet, thorough investigation of listings in Best Doctors of New York issues, interrogation of friends and family about their physicians, doctor qualification checks, comparisons, browsing of considered doctors' publications and contributions to the medical world, and last, but not least location location location (Upper East Side preferred, for have wealthy clients and thus have to keep their act together...i.e. clean office, comfortable waiting area, professional reception, etc.)
Picking a primary care physician this time (i.e. after having adult life and thus time to research): Check if doctor takes our insurance plan. Check if doctor lives in same zip code, preferably on same block.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I sure picked one crappy place that way.
First of all, I couldn't find the damn office and ...mind you...they are on the same street as I.
Once I finally located the building, it was a mission to A) find the doctor's office listed (finally noticed small note written with permanent marker next to intercom) and B) to actually get into building (Chinese delivery guy let me in) and then find office inside (had to wait for tenants passing by to tell me where the doc's office was located...i.e. NO signs whatsoever).

Once I walked into the reception/waiting area I kinda wanted to turn right around. It was like walking into someone's living room. I felt like I'm invading someone's privacy. The secretary had secured a small corner of the room (which she wasn't sitting in) where she seemed to collect paperwork on a rather random basis of organization. There was no computer, not even a typewriter. The mail in- and out-box where from the 1960s. Once the surprised secretary showed up (surprised to have a patient, I suppose), she gave me an old clip-board to fill in new patient information onto a form someone must have put together 20 years ago or so. (Why does it matter if I am single, married or widowed ... on a doctor's form?)
She then asked me to sign a blank piece of paper (that made me nervous) and requested the $15 co-payment I owed. "At least she knows about the practice of co-payments", I thought as I was digging for change, for they didn't accept credit-cards, of course.
She wrote me a pretty badly torn out receipt, which I think I'm going to have to scan in for you to believe me.
Not only did she put the date down as 2003 but she also misspelled the word fifteen. Unless she learned to write on her own and that's how she makes f-s and t-s (she wrote Tibteen).
Anyway, if you think the mispelling, computer-illiterate (in this day and age) receptionist was bad imagine her leading you into a dusty, messy, and poorly equipped examination room and then multifunctioning as the nurse. At least, wear the white coat to fool me! Thank God, she didn't attempt taking blood or anything but she did try to take my weight (I had to operate the scale, for she was going the wrong way with the top part of it). I had to work hard not to laugh when she then wanted to measure me. I said, "Honey, I'm 30 years old. I haven't grown in 10-15 years. But feel free. Take my measurements." It should be noticed, that I also didn't have to take any of my clothes off for this so-called physical (THANK GOD). But who takes a weight measurement with clothes on (in a doctor's office?!) and a height measurement with shoes on??

Anyway, the doctor turned out to be a really nice guy (I mean, so was the secretary) but there was no examination and I think he was a bit scared of me. When I read his newsletter ( he has a newsletter? you may wonder - yes. a 4 page edition evidently home-printed), I learned that he specializes in geriatrics (oh, well ... I AM getting old). Most of the newsletter adressed the symptoms and remedies for dementia (=altzheimer's), and arthritis.
I must have looked soo out of place.
I sure felt like it.

Well, I didn't get much out of this whole visit. The doc told me to go take tylenol and call him back if the pain doesn't go away. Did he not hear the part, where I told him I was sleeping on the floor because I couldn't take the pain anymore? Did he not hear when I said I get stuck in certain positions as if someone had just shot me? And what about the fact that I walked in and out of that office as if I were one of his regular patients (i.e. 89 years old)?

ok. gotta go get the heating pad.

no time for spirituality

how does one find time for spirituality when one doesn't even find time to eat? how does one find spirituality when one can't really find a place in organized religion (i.e. spirituality) - personally this refers to my dilemma of having been brought up islamic in a country with a population construed of 98% catholics. Can't do the Catholic thing, can't do the Christian thing, period, for do not believe in Jesus being son of God...or trinity and such...thus -> problem being Christian (i.e. commit to going to church every Sunday for an hour or two). Can't do the islamic thing, for have no community I fit in (community -> very important when practicing any kind of religion). Can't do the Bhudda thing, for cannot suddenly change Gods altogether. Darn faith thing all drilled in my mind, so I had to take religion out of the equation altogether. But really, the equation that brought me to my agnostic standpoint is much more complicated than that.
Doesn't matter. Point is that I am having a huge void of spirituality and sense of balance in my life. If one doesn't have religion one at least needs nature, I believe. Nature is a very powerful thing to make us feel closer to God. So, one thing I haven't lost is my believe in God, although I think maybe he might be losing his belief in me...
After all, I'm not giving him/her much to work with lately. Sometimes I'm so out of touch (i.e. take everything in my life for granted) I forget what this is all about. Not that I know what the meaning of life is...... but .... well, one thing I know and that is....we're supposed to live. Live a life. Have a life. Make a good one out of it. And with good, I don't mean get oneself hooked up with all kinds of material shit but good in the sense of ...happiness...generosity...kindness etc.....
Then again, I look at the general human (with all his greed, basic instincts, and need to hate and kill and whatnot ...<-is that a word?) and I wonder,... maybe we're just supposed to live and that's it. That can't be it. It just can't.
Ohmygosh, I just wanted to figure out where to find spirituality in the daily mess that is my life right now and here I go again,.... beginning to philosophize about the question whether mankind is good or evil. This is not blog-material, sis... too complex ...

Anyway, I know where I can get spirituality from ... it is nature. Unfortunately, I haven't sat on a rock and looked at the sky in years so I'm pretty much shot there.
Let's see...what else. I've tried a couple of books. Problem is they have to be pragmatic enough for me to accept them as serious reading material (and that's hard to find or evaluate from cover-judging). Can't do that whole new-age kinda crap.
Last good book I bought in that genre... Letters to a Spiritual Seeker by Henry David Thoureau.
Note how I wrote "bought".... as opposed to "read". One would need time to read as much as one would need time to sit on a darn rock. So I might as well just give up or make some serious time to fill this void. HA, but how?
Not possible. Just not possible. I barely get to sit down to write this blog. So many things I would have liked to jot down, didn't have the time, and then forgot about... it's sad.

oh, well. gotta go.
10,000 things to do.
and it's 11:30pm...
sigh.

got 5 minutes

quick thoughts I can jot down in 5 minutes... then my crazy day continues..no time to write
came to conclusion that I really have bad service karma. after spa breakdown drama 2 weeks ago (see previous blog somewhere..."bad day anyone") I have now figured out where my excruciating sudden neckpain is coming from. I've traced it back to pre-haircut shampoo-girl, who gave me 2 minute shampoo with head-neck massage from hell (she had iron-clamp-fingers, I swear...so skinny but beware of those freakishly strong hands...well, I guess if you shampoo all day you get to exercise those muscles.). Damn, and they made me tip her 5 bucks, too. ...geez, I remember the days when I wasn't willing to pay much more than that for my haircut itself.
I'm really getting old.
hope that neck thing isn't a permanent injury.
I'm not the suing (sueing, sue-ing?) type. If I were, I should have sued my dentist, who was supposed to change the fillings in my front teeth and instead changed my front teeth for caps without telling me. I kept on wondering what the hell he was doing and then one day I took the mirror while he stepped out and realized he had taken out my teeth. I almost went into shock.
Haven't been to the dentist in 4 years now. Traumatized....
shoot. gotta go.
write later.

what I got for my birthday (husband collecting minus points)

thought it couldn't get worse after last "mixed tape" (well CD, actually) D made for me...with "all his heart".... and "with all our songs". I don't know what hoochie he was thinking of but none of those songs were "our songs". Looked more like he just collected all slow-jam summer '95 songs he could find on kazaa, burned them on a CD and tried to pass it off as a project he had put thought into.... just for me. sigh.

However, what my dear husband gave me for my birthday WASN'T FUNNY AT ALL!
No card, no diamonds (not that I want diamonds but I'm just saying), nothing fancy saying you look like a hot 20-year old to me...
Nooo...what does he give me....he gives me a bottle of Menopause Relief tablets.
HA. HA. very funny.

new haircut (unfortunately no haircut in the world can save that stupid face...sigh) 

the day after new haircut (don't have to
be black to have a nappy mornin';)

15 minutes of being 30

ok. so I just turned 30 years old about 17 minutes ago... aaahhh.
over with the twenties. now I'm officially a grown-up, right? No more excuses.

I've gone from anti-wrinkle-craze-ridiculer to having-found-my-first-wrinkle-panic.

people. it's too late. I was gonna bitch about that show "wife-swap" and the scary extremes of characters (especially in last week's show). I was gonna continue on some relationship philosophies and I was gonna bitch about politics....
unfortunately ... I am too tired to even get out one more sentence that makes sense...

later... i'll try.

100 year old water turtle - NY Aquarium 

NY Aquarium Sharks 

New York Aquarium - sharks with distinct personalities... I swear, one of them looked like Joe Pesci 

relationships. what for?

can someone explain to me what relationships are good for? Is it me or aren't they just mostly a pain in the ass for all involved parties ... most of the time? I hope it's me, cause if not then that's one triste outlook for any potential future relationships (i.e why waste time in a relationship ever again?).
Isn't your partner supposed to be the person you're supposed to be able to count on when you need to and when there is nobody else to count on anymore?

A vague memory of my old - much more independent and purer - self reminds me of the fact that this is a very bad expectation to have of your partner, for it will inevitably lead to disappointment (at least, in most cases).

In the beginning (and with beginning I mean, a couple of years...for it's been 9 years this past Summer since D and I first started going out) I never expected anything of him. I was my own person and that was that. No bitterness attached to this perception.... just life as I saw it. I always paid for my own way (didn't like when a man paid for my food/drink/etc.) and never expected help in whatever I planned, thus never was in for any disappointments.

Once again, ... living here has changed me.
I've begun to expect certain things of certain people (not because they fulfill them but because the mere presence of the expectation is a given by surroundings. ... I remember, the first time someone asked me why my husband isn't doing this or that for me...and then "good thing you have a husband to help you out with that" ... etc. etc. etc. I never realized that the expectation of help didn't change anything in the actual situation but my attitude. And that wasn't a good thing. I became dependent. I begun to wait for stuff to happen I would have done on my own in a minute. And then... when they wouldn't get done I became frustrated and resentful. It's been a vicious cycle. ... Dario's "Honey-please-do-list" I once compiled is a complete waste of paper. The items on that list are sometimes over a year old and certain things I didn't even bother putting on the reworked (i.e. edited) list anymore (e.g. things I can't wait for... floors need to be mopped, bathrooms need cleaning, no matter who's turn it is...as a result, Dario hasn't cleaned a toilet in like a year and a half).
Now, why don't I just do all that shit myself?
I used to do stuff myself (put up shelves, hang pictures, troubleshoot my computer, fix the VCR, etc.) why have I become such a hussy? Granted I have no more time to do any such simple task as to brush my own hair sometimes, I stopped being self-sufficient way before my kids entered the picture.
Of course, now that they're here and there is no time for anything AND I am still hoping D would actually take a look at that list one of these days NOTHING gets done anymore.

So tell me again, why are we in relationships then? If not to help each other out on all kinds of levels? Why do we put ourselves through so much emotional shit? For the sake of familiar intimacy? Companionship?? But then that's not what I call companionship. Wouldn't a companion be more like a friend... so ... why struggle through a relationship then?
I mean, not for nothing have I always put as much emphasis on my friendships as on my family relations... if not more so. Friends can last forever ... relationships mostly don't ... and if they do, you're lucky. Isn't it so?

soo tired.
if he could only see how much I need his support now more than ever. this whole situation is killing me. back at work full-time. both kids by myself when I get home from a day often without even so much as a lunch break. D at school every night until almost 10pm. loads of housework and left-over regular work after the kids are finally down (putting down 2 kids under 3 ....at the same time....isn't an easy task.). no life of my own. tense neck, cramped up back, and a chronic stomach ache. It's not fucking easy to then be very diplomatic, although lately I've been making a real effort to actively work on some issues we've been having. D, however, misinterprets my attempts to talk about certain things with resolutions in mind as some sort of nagging and his favorite reply to anything I would like to talk about nowadays is "let it go already." or today the nicer version "shut the fuck up already." ... now see, I can't be talked to that way. Things turn off there. I might have lived in the ghetto for almost 10 years now but I refuse to become that ghetto.
Respect is something you must not lose in a relationship or things will fall apart.
They will.

It's sad because I know we have love. It's just buried somewhere right now and we would have to dig for it (i.e. work on the relationship a bit. do some maintenance. ...but I don't have the energy to be the initiator anymore. the one to pull us out of the deep again. I don't have the energy and I'm afraid of what might happen now...I'm afraid because I have kids now...it's not about me anymore...I can't just say..."oh, I don't need a man to be happy," which honestly I don't ...but my kids need one...and that's their father. D is, after all, a really good dad.)

I know now why drinking is prohibited in Islam. Cause one way or the other we will probably all reach this point where we just wanna be drunk as often as possible to make it through. Good thing I was raised with this very strong resistance towards drinking otherwise, I'd be trying to be drunk at least by noon ;)
And,...since I'm nursing...I can't smoke or ANYTHING.
It sucks to be sober all the time. ;)

are urbanites doomed to become antisocial?

the antisocial act I pulled today bordered on pathetic.
maybe I acted the way I did because I was getting myself through the day with barely 2 or 3 hours of (INTERRUPTED) sleep but my old - austrian&well-mannered self would have pulled me to the side for some serious scolding (if it weren't buried so deep in my new ego-centric been-in-nyc-too-long self).
So, anyway... as the day passed by (me mostly being an uproductive crank-head) I had repeatedly expressed my reluctance to have any "guests" over tonight, for Dario kept on mentioning that an old roomate of ours (who somehow keeps herself in the picture...no comment here. it's a story in itself.) was going to maybe pass by with her husband and kid, both of whom are actually really nice. daugther - nice kid & husband - TV-addicted but otherwise very nice dude.
Anyway, when the bell rang in the late afternoon I began to panic. Oh no, D didn't make up any excuses on why today wasn't a good day for visiting. So I ran. Literally. I grabbed my bag, a book, a netflix movie, and dashed out the door shouting, "ok, D. I'll be upstairs then (at R.s house)". Maia in anticipation of visitors tried to follow me into the hallway but since I hadn't had the time to grab a key I couldn't just lock the door assuring her safety.
So, there I am in the hallway, my eyes frantically oscillating between elevator floor status display and Maia at door, threatening her like I would Trouble (with stomping my foot on the floor and instructing with deep, authoritative voice to go and stay inside. Close the door in front of her, again and run back to the emergency stairs. Stay there until elevator hits our floor and peek back to make sure Maia who, of course, has opened the door again isn't letting in strangers but in fact our unexpected guests. I hear familiar voices and silently close the emergency exit stair door.
Knock on R's door with request to accept refugee status of mine. She accepts and I get to plomp myself on the couch with my book.
20 minutes later the phone rings.
Turns out, Dario and our guests thought I am in the bedroom with screaming baby (trying the cry-out method or something) until D finally goes to check why the baby is so unusually hysterical. Finds Maia by herself in bedroom with baby (on bed), applying lotion all over her little sister. Eyes and everything.
I drop everything and run downstairs.
Baby seems ok. Her hair is quite funky looking and her eyes a bit reddened and she still seems to be recovering from traumatic Maia-balming but otherwise all is fine.
Maia is crying on her time-out chair. Poor thing. Didn't mean bad but explains that she just wanted baby to be "all cleean and beauutiful".
I run down "things-not-to-do-with-the-baby" with her again and let her go.
So much for my pretend-I'm working on co-op board stuff with Rosa. Have to stay now and watch super-loud cops, america's most wanted and the apprentice, for tv-addicted hubby cannot and must not miss any show, never mind the fact that he's engaging in supposed social event ... visit at our place. but who am I to judge, right ;)

bad day anyone?

my bad days aren't your average bad days... they are usually a succession of unlucky accidents, which ultimately turn the day into a self-fulfilling prophecy, or so I theorize, for I just cannot believe the way things go when I have a "bad" day.
Generally, I am laughing out loud my mid-afternoon because the turn of things are just too ridiculous to be really happening.
Today...so far...a quick run-down on what's been happening.

wake up late. get kids ready for babysitter and school, respectively. by the time D is ready to leave the house (and take Maia with him to school), Maia has fully undressed herself again and sits happily on her bed announcing she isn't going. don't have time to argue. tell D to leave and I'll take her in. remind myself, not to forget family-day at her school today. go check flyer for event details. notice was supposed to make home-cooked dish as contribution to event. check fridge for any kind of left-overs not more than three days old. no luck. make mental note: throw out spaghetti from last week just sighted in back of fridge.
get on computer quickly to check workload and mail to give impression I'm starting early as opposed to real-time estimate of serious settlement in front of PC probably way past 11a.m.
have to get Maia to school, engage in family-event a bit, AND make it to 12 o'clock appointment I secured the day before at 57th St. super-haute-couture-can't-afford-services-but-have-giftcertificate-spa. (note: had left-over balance on gift-certificate dating back to pregnancy. $35.- remaining. looked through spa-booklet and realized have to add about 60.- to these $35 to be able to pay for any kind of service at this nyc upper east side place. would love to have booked "count-down to butter-massage" but can only afford "30.min.rapid.rub" <- actual names of bliss spa massages. decide I deserve...and actually need massage, for knot in my back is now the size of small state.)
Anyway, let me change this telegram-kinda writing style cause I'm losing track of the beginning of my sentences.
So, at 11 a.m. I shut down computer, realizing I'll be late if I don't get my butt out the house. Of course, it's too late now to get Maia to school and wait until she's ready to be peeled off my leg (still adjusting to preK), so I drop her off at the beloved babysitter instead.
Jump into the elevator, which goes up and down a couple of times first, before finally leaving me in the lobby. Run into Rosa, who has almost as many bags as I do (don't know why I have so many bags..let's see. handbag. plasticbag with stuff that doesn't fit in handbag. babybjoern baby carrier, which has been recalled and needs to be returned, outgoing mail, and a cup of coffee I dream of drinking at some point during this hectic morning - don't know at that point, of course, that I won't.) I manage to free up two fingers to help Rosa carry one of her bags. Pick super heavy and super-thin plastic bag which, with all the other things in my hands, I cannot keep off the floor. So, I make it down the hallway, bag semi-touching the floor but then it rips and all insides are now strewn in front of exit door. bag of sugar, mayonnaise, ketchup, etc. I try to find replacement bag in my car, Rosa urges me to get out already as not to miss appointment.
So, I am racing to the train-station. Planning to leave car somewhere parked around there. No parking. Alternate Side Parking rules in effect? ... Continue driving south to find parking along the way. Decide to get off very traffic-heavy Jerome Ave. and take a parallel route. Of course, I end up somewhere elevated, full of dead-ends ghetto-looking kind of area. See the 4 train at bottom of hill. Call D at office, to look up Alternate Side Parking rules, for I notice people have still not moved their cars. Dude pulls up next to me with music blasting SO loud, my van is vibrating and I cannot hear a thing Dario or even I am saying. Have to wait 'til ghetto-brotha moves. D announces "no ASP rules in effect today". Wish I had known earlier. Park car next to drug-dealer guy standing at top of stairs leading down to Jerome. Run down eight hundred steps to 176 St. station. Turns out the station I picked to enter subway is closed for very active, fire-sparks flying maintenance. Run back up eight hundred steps, now feeling like a thousand; creating new curse-word with every step I climb; drug-dealer guy actually makes me feel better by giving me sympathetic smile, but not good enough to hold up my cool, for when I then finally give up and call spa to cancel I am being reminded of policy and enforcement of policy that I still have to pay for full service. I break into tears and hang up. Mad at myself for crying about missed spa-date. Remind myself, crying about whole bunch of shit -> over-exhaustion. irony of me stressing to get to appointment for relaxation. 1/2 relaxation with 1 hour stressfull commute each way. wonder why I'm so stupid. want to call spa back and tell them that I'm no 5th-ave-got-too-much-money kinda costumer but will actually be quite hurt by losing 60.-, or in this case 100.- for a service I never actually received. What kind of costumer service is that? Isn't it the spa's sole function to get rid of the physical stress build-up in my life as opposed to adding to it?
Sit in my car wondering who I could call to calm me down. Want to call Rosa. Tell myself:
"don't you dare call Rosa...she has a son with leukemia who just got back from yet another stay at the hospital...she has a full-time job, is a single-mom and at the moment probably just as stressed as you are." boom. I'm back to reality. Stupid little problems of mine. Get over it.
"Don't see you crying when you receive $100 parking ticket" (although, I must say that's not true, ...if the day has been really bad I might crack at that moment of ticket issuance. $100 bucks is a LOT of money to be throwing around, dammit...I better be getting some kind of pleasure out of it).
So, I decide... let me just hop into the post-office and return that baby-bjoern carrier, which has been recalled by the manufacturer. had been contemplating for a while, whether I shouldn't just keep using it and save myself the hassle but then reminded myself that if Nayla does fall out I won't be able to live with the guilt. Parking meter swallows my quarter, but of course, doesn't show the receipt of money and keeps blinking "0:00" time left straight into my face. decide I won't take it up with the meter but do kick and punch it a couple of times, just in case. no luck. no "FAIL" annoucement, so it'll just continue appearing like an expired meter (mentally prepare for ticket).
At post-office I stand in line for 20 minutes and realize at last moment I don't know which address to send baby carrier to. Call company. automated message: "go to blah.blah.com and request self-addressed envelope. blah blah blah." Step out of line, which I have now been waiting on FOR NOTHING...like so many things during this morning.
Return home, now no time for lunch, for have wasted time driving around throwing fits, and such. Eat bowl of left-over chicken-rice with no chicken left inside. Dig for ketchup and BBQ sauce in fridge door to add some flavor. Maple Syrup glass bottle slides through shelf holder and shatters into a hundred pieces on my kitchen floor. Syrup and glass everywhere.
I give up. Day ... you have beaten me. I am going back to bed.
Of course, can't because have double-workload on me (-> colleague on 1-month wedding/honeymoon vacation) and need to sit my ass in front of computer already.
Clean up syrup and sit into office. Take a sip of cold, watered down morning coffee, eat ketchup rice and begin weeding through e-mail. 2 minutes later, Rosa knocks on my door to emergency baby-sit her 2-year old son. No problem, bring it on. ;)