no more sleep 'til sunday

I've decided that the only way to find time to take care of all the things on my before-we-leave-the-country-to-do-list is to omit any and all sleep until Sunday. Oh well, one can't have everything.

so, back to cleaning the house I go. then I need to shower and I really must get started on weeding through our filing cabinet. It's just gonna be me and my shredder for the night.

Red Bull here I come.

oh, but before I log off...I just wanted to jot down this one little conversation D overheard yesterday:
Lucas (Rosa's 4-year old son & Maia's best friend) to Maia: You know, you can't have any boys over at your house anymore. ..... Only me. .....You can have a hundred girls...but no boys.

Interesting, isn't it? Where is he getting this from? He doesn't watch TV like that. He has no such environment. Must really be in the male genetic make-up ...that whole possessive urge.
;)

beauty = power

this morning, as both kids are glued to me once again while I am trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep, I finally turn to Maia and ask half-frustratedly (if that's a word):
What is it with you girls that you have to stick to me like that? You have a perfectly good daddy right outside this door, much more awake and willing to help you than I am. ....Is it that you like me better, or what?
Maia: yes! :)
Me: Really? And why is that?
Maia: Because you're prettier than Daddy.

LOL. well, I sure am glad we're teaching the girl all the right values here. ;)

nostalgic breakdowns

It was only natural that I was crying when I cancelled my final interview with the ICP-Bard admissions committee last week, however, the reason for my nervous breakdown in front of the dairy section of Stop & Shop a few days ago brought my attention to some apparently much deeper sadness about my plans to leave my life here in New York. Nevertheless, I blamed the stress, got myself together and moved on to the juice isle.

This morning, however, I woke up once again with a heavier heart - aware that the days until our departure are now in the single digits. When I then checked my admissions status at SVA I almost came to tears again .... and I was only navigating through the site. I am just becoming very aware of what I am letting go here. A creative endeavor I have always dreamed of....

But I am getting over it. This whole move is for the better, I believe.
For the better of the family ...and that is what should be my first priority anyway.

I am going to miss my friends.
I am going to miss New York.
But it's gonna be alright.
I hope.

Hey, I'm allowed to be a bit nostalgic here, am I not?!

all things come to an end

To save some time, here today`s e-mail exchange with one of my closest friends.
_
He writes:
---------------------
Hey Sisi,

I don't have a lot of time to write right now. I've been in a little bit of a funk-- no doubt you've heard that work is a little crazy with people jumping ship and one of my best friends in the world will be leaving soon.

But I wanted to say, yeah. Last minute panicking is natural, but all things considered I'm confident you're making the right decision. One, the girls need to learn German and English (and probably some Spanish and a forth Asian language) if they're going to thrive in the emerging market, plus no doubt getting them into a quality school won't be such a crap shoot, especially once they get a handle on German.

Two, I think you've been loosing important pieces of yourself over the past few years-- no doubt you discovered as much about yourself as you lost, but I think it's a good time for you to reclaim a lot of who you used to be.

Third, Dario needs a change, I think there were too many things around him reinforcing his juvenial inclinations. Working in a completely new environment will be really challenging and one thing about D he welcomes a good challenge, so I think this will go a long way to growing him up. If I were, I wouldn't expect him to stop playing games though, that's an inescapable global phenomena.

As far as graduate school goes. I've always been one of those folks in the camp that if you really want to be a photographer, that's what you'll be. If you're doing it for the right reasons (driving by the passion the challenge the desire the love to capture and make precious some of life's fleeting moments) then it doesn't matter whether you do so as a professional or an amateur (who, I remind you, is someone who engages a habitual activity out of love). But if you're not convinced, well, graduate programs have been around for at least 50 years, I'm sure they'll still be around when you're ready.Anyway, I need to get back to work, no doubt, more later.

Vern
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
hey vern,

thanks for your wonderful and very insightful e-mail.
This is the kind of emotional support I need at this great crossroads of my life (although, ....technically I feel like I`ve already passed the crossing...;)

Anyway, it was good to hear your feedback and, believe me, it isn`t easy for me to let go of my friendships either. I`ve been in a funk myself for the past few days. Good thing we are living in the 21st century and keeping in touch and up-to-date won`t be such an undertaking. Plus, I did always prefer your writing....although, I must say, your wife has done a good job polishing those rough (sometimes very annoying) edges of yours. - sh*t...somehow that sentence didn`t work....already I am losing my English....BUT hey! you know what a friend of the family told me today?! ...a few weeks ago she had run into my old German teacher (in the States, comparable to one`s Englisch teacher, I suppose)....and he had told her that I was his best student in his 35 years of duty as a professor.
How come they don`t tell you this when you go to school? I don`t recall EVER getting a compliment at school. .... of course, there must have been some...but apparently they were so rare that I don`t remember. What I do remember are the beatings and never-ending scoldings I got at school.
Although, I think, my English teacher once complimented me on my continous excellence on our English vocabulary tests. Of course, the last paragraph is anything but a good example of those apparent "excellent" English skills. ;)
My mom reminded me that I used to be very athletic...always bringing home medals. I don`t remember any medals. That must have been wishful motherly thinking. ;) ....Actually, wait!....I do remember a medal...once...I got in 3rd or 4th place in a bobsledding race, in which I almost died btw. (aah, the beauty of small-town athletic events. safety: a non-issue.)

Anyway, ....it`s getting late. Only a few days until I finally fly back to my beloved family.
Nini has been potty-trained in my absence. I am upset. ....... and she isn`t even two, yet.

Oh,... one more story before I go:
Yesterday, I got a skype call at work. I saw it was Dario calling, so I hung up...thinking what is he doing calling me at work? I can`t be skyping here. Then it rings again, so I picked up....not saying anything...waiting for him to tell me what he needs to tell me.
Then I hear Maia: MOOOM, I know you`re there. ...Say something. It was too cute. ;)Then she started going on about her day, and what she had been doing, and how her dad is annoying her but that she loves him anyway....
Finally Dario came into the room...quite surprised. Apparently, she must have picked my name out of the contact list and then just pressed the button to call me. May I mention that the other day I spent about 45 min. trying to explain to my father, who is about 60 years older than my daughter, how to make a phone-call with skype. ;)

ok. now I really am going to go.
Today is my 8th wedding anniversary....and this summer D and I will have been together for 11 years.
I`m slightly amazed.
;)
anyway, I gotta go.
say hi to your lady,
c-u soon,
s.

forget what I wrote yesterday

....that was just BS, I think.
I think, I am just afraid of this big step. That`s all.

Most of all I am probably afraid I might regret the fact that I will have to reject the acceptance of Graduate Schools I have tried very hard to get into. Schools that are very selective and whose invitation to study isn`t to be taken for granted.

Oh well, at least I can comfort myself with the fact that I got in.
But seriously, I think I am standing on an edge here. Don`t know what will happen when I jump (I can`t even say if I jump).

Do I really want to live in a country that allows advertisement such as this?



The poster is an ad of the liberal party (which really is a right-wing party) and it is supposed to encourage people to sign their petition to forbid Turkey its anticipated membership in the European Union.
The poster's headline asks if we want this to be our future. (aaaarrrgh. f*in idiots. I can`t believe they get away with this).
Anyway, so far they haven`t really had much response to this. The petition booths opened 3 days ago and except for a few senior citizens nobody seems to sign. So, thank God, there is hope. People are not all idiots.

But really, I wonder, if I will find this peace and goodness I am looking for in life. I am afraid that my expectations will be shattered and that I will be bitterly disappointed .......and when this happens, where will I go? How do we flee from human failure? It is everywhere. Even within ourselves.

nightmares and doubts

Last night was filled with bad dreams about me being here. Anxieties driven by an earlier conversation with my grandmother, I suppose. It wasn`t like I didn`t know this was coming. My grandmother has always been critical about all my big life-changing decisions. Going to America, getting married, having my first child, etc. I clearly remember the things she told me about the latter fact: "You just finished college. Weren`t you going to start your career now? Well, your life is over now. It`s the end of all your passions, anyway," she said, "I don`t understand why you have to have a child now." Mind you, I was 27 then and already pregnant. This just isn`t the kind of thing you tell someone who is already half-way through with the project, so to say.

Anyway, yesterday when I spoke to her on the phone she totally broke me.
I was visiting a friend`s house - a small dinner party. Needless to say, I was embarrassed to rejoin the table, for I had troubles to remain composed. I had to step away twice to take a few deep breaths in the hallway to be able to control myself and not break into tears.
My grandmother had hit a raw nerve. An underlying anxiety about this whole existence-changing endeavor of mine (ours). She hit the fears about the risk I am taking and she hit my insecurities like a pro mom-surrogate, I suppose.
I think you are being irresponsible here. You are always jumping all over the place. But, oh well, you`ve always been that way.
-Grandma, I said, how can you say that? I`ve been in New York for almost ten years. I`ve been working at the same place for about 8 years. I have my own apartment, I have been in the same relationship for almost 11 years. How much more stable can I be?
-Why do you want to come back? she countered, I thought you are happy there. I find it reckless of you to leave a stable job, your apartment, everything you have to come back here.
-I am taking a leave (if all goes bad, we can return and I, at least, will have a job), we are renting our place...
-I don`t understand why.
-I just think it`s better for the kids.
-I don`t buy that. I don`t believe that you would do something like this just for the kids.
-(ouch). Listen, if I would be selfish, I`d stay. I love New York City. I just got note from the first of the three Graduate Schools I applied to that I have been accepted and that is a great honor and opportunity. They don`t just take anybody. They are extremely selective. Out of hundreds of applications they take maybe 10 people.
- Well, this isn`t really what you wanted anyway. You always wanted to work in the film business.
- It is, too, what I wanted. It was one of my options, one of my paths. The reason I came to New York to study photography is because I didn`t make the entry exam into the only Viennese photo-program.
-That`s because you didn`t try hard enough.
-What? I studied hard. How could I know that it turned out to be all math and chemistry on that test.
-Well, you`re going to proceed as you like anyway,..soo whatever you say.

This was only an excerpt of the things she told me. I am still shaken by it, when I shouldn`t be. Why do I let this affect me in such a way? I know better. She doesn`t know my life, she doesn`t know the details, the realities, ....she is just passing a judgement as an outsider.
MUST ignore.

Anyway, today I am beginning to be really homesick.

things fall into place

I finished my second week at the job here in Austria and things are looking better work-wise. It is a LOT of work but it is not always the same, for I will be doing editorial work and project work (50:50). Already, my mind is sharper for I have to be very alert all day long.
Imagine a news agency. This is what the editorial part of my day entails, which I find kinda funny, since I haven`t kept track of the news (world, Austria, whatever) in years. I just didn`t have the time to go dig for the stuff I needed to know. Anyway, it`s not like they don`t like to bring gossip and mundane stuff on their newsportal, as well, but I also get exposed to all the important info (hey, I now know, for example, who the Polish president is, when he was elected and how you spell his name ...Lech Kaczynki. Now that I look at it...I`m not so sure if it`s really spelled that way but at least I know who we`re talking about if his name is mentioned. ;)
The editorial work is also a bit stressful, for we are working on a news-portal (i.e. we change the stories on it every few minutes. it feels like, you`re never finished with your work, which is a bit agitating.)

The other day I posted a story on the homepage, and when I told the editor-in-chief to have a quick look, she said: "Nice,...but..ehm... why is it in English?"
Totally didn`t realize that I had switched to an English text. So for about a half an hour (until all servers had updated their content) our little Vorarlberg newportal had a moment of great internationality. ;)

Other than work, I`ve been looking for apartments and have actually found one I am totally taken by.



In these images you can see the typical European weather. Or Austrian, anyway. It`s bad weather half the time, which makes you appreciate a day of sun and beauty allthemore (if that`s a word - probably not). In the entire time that I`ve been here we had maybe one and a half days of sun.
New York rocks in that department. Always freaggin` sunny. I loooove that.

ok. I have to go now. The shops close early here (the ones that are open on Saturdays close at 5pm. Sundays everything is closed, except for some gas-station stores.)

Also, today is "Funka". This is a costum apparently only practiced in Vorarlberg. Every village builds and burns down a big woodtower on this Sunday evening with a scare-crow style witch (filled with explosives- well, fireworks) tied to the top. They say it`s to scare away the winter but really it has its origins in the witch-hunts of the middle-ages. Also, I think it`s another reason to get drunk together. ;) No, seriously, ...it`s a fun thing to do with the kids...and watching a fire burn seems to fascinate all people through the ages.
Anyway, I don`t think I`m going. Let`s see, who`ll drag me.

in a land far far away

so, here I am. home. in austria. thousands of miles away from my family. it seems unnatural to be so far away from my children.
I try to think of the people at war...mothers at war. How the hell do they do it? I, at least, know that I will be back in a few weeks. Alive, most likely. Of course, one can never say but, well..you know what I mean.

I`ve been trying out at a job here. And whoever is reading this blog that works with me in NY, please keep that mouth shut. ;)
I just don`t know for sure if this is going to work out. Although, I must say.... I am pretty certain I am going to go through with this. D cannot wait for my final answer but since I still have two weeks to evaluate this job and everything that goes with it, I don`t want to say anything, yet.

Work-life here presents itself from a very different side. I know that the people here in Vorarlberg (Austria) are particularly known for their strong work-ethic. Having spent most of my youth here, I must have picked it up inadvertently. In fact, I have been ridiculed for it at my job in New York (by my co-workers AND my boss). But I didn`t understand what they must have meant by it until now that I am returning to my home, being able to see things from an outsider`s perspective.

Let me point out a few things: People here are extremely punctual. Over-punctual, one could say, for they appear to always be early. They take their jobs very seriously. That is not to say we don`t take our jobs seriously but I hardly know any people that do not engage in some private activities at the job. Be it in the form of chats, private mails, private internet research, or even just "extensive" social chatting with co-workers. Here things look different. People do not have private phone-conversations during work (maybe to quickly coordinate a later meeting but that`s it). They don`t check their private e-mail accounts, and they certainly don`t do any private websurfing.
I remember my father coming home for lunch when I was a kid but at the place I am trying out now the lunch-break is a half an hour long and everyone goes together. One also always brings their laptop with them, in case there is an urgent message. And almost all of them bring their cordless work-phones.
During the day they go for 2 or 3 coffee breaks (max. 5-10 min) and they also go all together.
I wouldn`t mind the herding urge but we already work all together in one big communal office (17 people, no cubicles), why spend the breaks together, too?
Maybe I am becoming antisocial on my old days but I need some alone time, as well.

It really isn`t as bad as it sounds, however, my mind is arguing with my gut. My mind tells me that this is crazy. I am willing to let go of a perfectly good job in New York freakin` City, with double the income I`d be taking home here, unmeasurably more flexibility and autonomy, and the possibilty to attend Graduate School on the side (to finally pursue my true passion: photography).

But my gut tells me this is what I am supposed to do. It just feels right to be here. I can`t explain it. The weather sucks. The job is questionable. I don`t know where the hell we`re going to live (i.e. how we would be able to afford our life here on a quarter of the amount of what we earn now). I don`t know how Dario is going to handle life as a houseman in a country, of which he does not speak the language.

I know the sacrifices I will be making (mostly work, work, work, work - HA HA) but I think this will be one of the very few times in my life I will listen to my heart.



...too bad I won`t prostitute myself for a movie-career. That`s probably the only thing that could have kept me in NY: The fulfillment of my fantasy of being an actress. ;) - to read what the hell that is all about click here.

never mind the movie career

Turns out James T. is kinda messed up in the head. Famous or not, this ain't my game. While he generally seemed like a nice guy he also is a sex-obsessed old man (no news for anyone who knows him, I suppose). I don't care how many celebrities he's slept with before he put them in his movie, it ain't gonna be me. And essentially, that's what I told him.
By the way, turns out a lot of celebrities that I thought were sweet, "honorable" people seem to be total sluts...according to Toback's stories anyway.
I am very disillusioned. Oh well, I kinda anticipated it. The instinct was there.

Good thing I took my friend with me to meet him, for it was really a bit of an awkward situation.

Anyway, ever since the moment of my director encounter Dario has been behaving like a total a-hole. I don't know if it's jealousy or whatever but I am really getting tired of his infantile behavior. He should know me by now.

10 years. Faithful.
Seems to mean nothing to him. ....or maybe, he doesn't believe it. I don't know.
Either way, I am insulted....and he doesn't care, of course.

Anyway, he's up to something....and it's driving me nuts. I don't have time for games. HE's a f-in' boy...a boy.

And yesterday, as I was going downtown, I told him to please call Rosa to make sure the kids are being picked up on time. He called her at 5.15 which gave her exactly 15 minutes to race from the Bronx to Manhattan to pick up the kids before the school closed. Then he didn't show up to relieve the babysitter until 7.30pm. "I lost track of time," he said to Rosa, who was still holding on to Maia. He then had to drive the babysitter who had been watching Nini home, so essentially he finally came to get the kids around 8pm.
When I returned at 10pm they were still up.

I was so mad. Completely unreliable. Can never be counted on.
What do you mean "I lost track of time?" .... he went to visit a friend who had had an accident (fine), ...with some girl I don't know (whatever)...and then he drove the girl home (somewhere in Yonkers). He left work at 3.30 though...so "how the hell can it take you until 7.30 to get back? You have two children waiting for you. You were the one responsible yesterday." Rosa felt taken advantage of (but she still cooked dinner for him) and I felt really angry (but I still told him how much I loved him before I went to bed).

so I've been discovered by a famous movie director

This is unbelievable. I'm still not sure if I was dreaming or not.

Yesterday, my friend Marta and I stopped at Starbucks for coffee before a movie ("The New World"). As I was waiting for my cup of mocha and for Marta to return from the bathrooms, I watched a conversation between a Starbucks employee and a big simpatico-looking man with a beard. Apparently the man with the beard was a known director (James Toback, as it turned out) and the Starbucks guy was complimenting him on his work.

Anyway, so Toback lets the guy in the apron shake his hand one more time and then turns to me to ask, whether I know who he is.
"No," I say, "I'm sorry. But from what I just heard, you're a director with some talent."
"Well, I've done about 10 [?] movies ..."Two Guys and a Girl" with Robert Downey Jr., "When Will I be loved" with Neve Campbell, "Fingers" with Harvey Keitel. Seen any of those?"
-Ehm, no" I reply, slightly embarrassed, "but I've heard of them, so that's good." (great answer, sis.)
"Anyway," he continues, "Just as I've been flattered by the previous conversation, I would like to now pass this on to you and tell you that you mesmorize me and that I would like you to be in my next movie...it's with Chris Rock and...[can't remember who else he mentioned. I was just like: CHRIS ROCK??!! sweet!;)]
He then asked me, what I am doing, if I'm athletic, and if I've done any acting which I have (for most of my youth..until I was about 22). I also used to be quite athletic...but again, looong time ago.

Anyway, he wrote down his number for me and took down mine, in case I don't call him.

This couldn't be worse timing. I mean, ever since I was a little kid (to be exact, since I was 8 years old), I dreamt about a moment like this. That some director would just walk up to me and ask me to be in his movie. I loved being on stage but I also knew that acting is a job made only for a few (especially from a financial point of view). Anyway, the fantasy was so far-fetched that I don't think I ever mentioned it to anyone.

Well, let's see what going to happen. I already have my ticket to Austria so I really don't know what to do. Life is quite "funny" sometimes.
Also, I hear Toback used the "I'm a director...etc." as a pick-up line quite a few times in his life-time...so I'm not sure if this is all for real. And truly, that would make much more sense. Who the hell would want to put my wrinkly-ringsundermyeyes-currentlyquitepimply face (not to mention body) on a big screen? Dim Starbucks lighting has served me well. Let's see if this all holds up in daylight. If I call him, that is.

;)

the battle of the heart & mind

I'm still torn.
Tomorrow I will have another interview. This time with the top boss of the company who offered me that job in Austria.
In addition, the program director of the graduate school of my choice would like to speak with me in person before I withdraw my application.
This, of course, isn't helping my already tormented mind ...or should I say heart.

I think about this decision all day and time is running out. Soon I have to call it. Within days. Half the time I have a positive outlook on a move back home, and half the time I think about all the personal opportunities I might be or will be losing out on. I feel like I haven't completed yet, what I've come here for. I came here to study photography. Granted, I did complete my B.A., I still feel I am not finished.

Then again,....living here I am becoming more stupid by the minute. And mostly because I can. Nobody cares if I know the latest on world politics, nobody cares if I know the geographic location of the Falkland Islands, for example. The world here revolves around ourselves, it seems. Look at the local news, speak to your average Joe on the street. And you don't have to even get that general.
It is a very different environment. Nobody cares if you can spell properly ... probably because most of the people can't spell themselves. I remember how - in the beginning - I spent an eternity on every e-mail I wrote (my dictionary always and everywhere at arm's reach). Today, I hardly even proof-read to catch at least the worst mistakes. Nobody seems to care. I don't care....and I can't believe it sometimes. I can't believe what has become of me ....in general. I've let myself go big time. Maybe it's just that I am getting older and I realize that there's no need for all the bullshit ...but then again...this can lead to lower and lower standards until there are no more taboos, no more boundaries, no more rules. (alright, this is becoming radical. let me move on.)

It's going to be hard to get back into the formalities...but I think it will be good for the kids.

ok. tonight I am sending my last prayer on this topic. I'm not practicing anymore but when I spoke to my father about my dream, he pointed out that in Islam they really don't do the supersticious stuff (I suppose, he meant me thinking I got a sign). They believe that if you really have a big (life-changing) decision to make you are supposed to put as much thought into it as possible and then say two prayers to ask God to help you make the right decision and then let it be. Usually, he says, you are supposed to then sleep on it and should then feel a true inner lightness about the right decision.
I told him that I doubt this will work on me, since my mind always starts messing with my instincts or inner convictions.

My mind and my heart are always at war it seems.

A sign from God?

appendix to the last blog entry (so, read the previous post before this):

another thing to consider when/if moving back to Austria is my photography. The question is, how dependent is what I shoot on the fact that I live in NYC?
To me the rough edges of this city is what's appealing. All the irregularities, all the different worlds at odds or in harmony, the grime, the dirt, the ruggedness of the city, the shine, the splendor, and last but not least, the cornucopia of interesting faces to photograph.

What the hell am I going to photograph in freaggin' Vorarlberg? Everything is clean, in order, everyone looks pretty much the same, ...it's "perfect". I'm gonna have to do landscapes...ugh.
Dario says I'm overexaggerating. He validly pointed out that Austria is bordering on 9 countries, that we'll be travelling, and that we don't have to stay in rural Vorarlberg but could move to Vienna, where I - by the way - also got a job-offering (since yesterday). Why are these offers coming in only now? About a month too late?
But really, I don't want to go to Vienna, for then the girls will then just be again another kind of city kids. And if I had to pick, I'd rather have them be NYC kids. Better schools....believe it or not.

I asked God for a sign. And since I don't take in signs very well (too rational) I asked for it to be a strong very clear sign... one slap-me-over-the-head kinda sign.
So I had a dream. It was very short and weird. I dreamed that the tree in front of our building was on fire. Slowly burning.

Then my girlfriend Nadine called me to ask about my decision. I told her about me asking God for a sign (to show me in my dreams) and the strange completely inconclusive dream I then had and she immediately compared it to the burning bush story in the Bible. We had to google it, though, since she couldn't remember if God (speaking from the burning bush) told Moses to go on his journey or to stay put.
Turns out God told Moses to have faith and to lead his people into Egypt (or..wherever...already forgot where to...was it to Egypt or to Israel? anyway, the point is that he told him not to be afraid and to go on this journey.)

Since I don't want to make my final decision based on a dream I would love if God could be a little more clear with his opinion (like an e-mail, or something) ...but that's not going to happen...and I better watch out with my tone here before it turns blasphemic and then I'll have no guidance at all.

So, I'm almost there....and I do have faith...but ya' know...I'm a skeptic.

life-changing decisions are a pain in the a**

so, I'm almost done with this huge project of putting together my graduate application packages (most time-consuming: the portfolio). anyway, ... a few days ago I got an unexpected call-back for a job I applied to in Austria about a month ago. The woman who does the hiring had had a death in the family and so everything had been put on hold for a while. She invited me for an interview, which we did via skype and after an hour-long conversation I was told that I got the job if I want it.
It's a challenging position at a strong webservices company with lots of opportunities. Apparently they had had a lot of applicants...so I am now really in an uncomfortable situation.
By the beginning of the next week I have to decide if we will give up our entire existence here and all move to Austria (within months) or not (which will probably mean never, since Maia is soon to enter school). I have to make a decision to let go of a path I had just -after long consideration- decided on (Graduate School and ultimately a professional life full of art and photography).

It is so hard to make this call.
My friends here say that I shouldn't go back just because of the kids. We would surly be able to provide a secure and positive environment for them here just as well as anywhere else. Some argue that I shouldn't give up my own dreams and that putting my own happiness first will as a result make me a better mother. Others remind me of another potential problem: Is Dario really going to enjoy the house-husband role in Vorarlberg (small, traditional & pretty rural part of Austria)?

I don't know what to do.
One thing I thought of today is this: I've always wondered, how it would be to go back home....and that I should be moving back...especially for the kids...etc. So,.... I could go try it out for a year (ignoring how much work that would be) and if I'm miserable then at least I can finally say I've tried and the thought will stop haunting me.
But what if I get settled there...and I can bear it (I've got pretty strong endurance..no matter how bad the circumstances)...will I then wonder for the rest of my life what if I had not come back home and instead gone to Graduate School to pursue my real dream?

My children are supposed to always come first now .... that's a mother's job ...but sometimes it is really hard to make the call. Which path will be ultimately better for them?
My friend Vern says that kids adapt and that I should stop worrying. They'll be fine either way. Personally he wouldn't want to raise his kids anywhere else but New York City. Let's see what his wife has to say to that (she's German and isn't planning to stay here forever). ;)
But it's true, New York is not like the rest of America. It's very special.

I love New York.

husbands SUCK. they just suck.

I can't believe this.
I just spent the whole evening taking care of three kids. Entertaining them, cooking for them, cleaning up after them, etc. - all while I should have been doing work for an urgent deadline (grad. school application due tomorrow).
A good friend of mine is staying over the weekend (with her kids) and I don't mind the work ...but what upsets me is Dario's complete and utter non-involvement.
When my friend's husband dropped off the kids, Dario didn't budge to go downstairs and help carrying the stuff (carseats, bags, kids, etc.). Instead, he sent me. This is where I draw the line with equality. This is the husband's job. But not in my house. I guess, I'm the one with the pants on. Always have to take charge. It's pissing me off.
Anyway, ... so then he suddenly got really tired and announced he's going to sleep (around 8.30pm). I suppose, he forgot the fact that I was the one who got up with the girls when they both woke up at 4.30am last night. I suppose, when he got up shortly before seven to make it to an exam for a class he'd been taking last semester, he assumed that I continued to sleep while my children dressed and changed themselves, fed themselves breakfast, and such.

My theory is that tonight he just wanted to get out of the work that he anticipated having 4 kids in the house. Lazy bastard. (can you tell I'm fuming?)
Anyway, so ..of course, with so many kids running around his sleep was interrupted a few times, which he actually dared to complain about.
"Excuse me," I said after another one of his complaints, "I have not sat down for hours. No actually, I just did sit down for 2 minutes (and I'm not kidding) to gobble down a sandwich but the rest of the evening I've spent tending children."
In the moments he did get up, he surfed the net, watched TV (behind closed doors, so I wouldn't notice..I suppose)..and here and there he would move a dish from point A to point B to work out his little guilt.

I feel like crying.
How am I going to make it through Graduate School with a support system like this?
I am living with a fucking child. A man is what I need. A MAN, dammit. (and no, that doesn't mean I want to be with other people. It means I want him to grow the fuck up).
He can't tell me he doesn't see how I suffer.
My back is killing me, I am tired, I have a shit-load of work to do, he knows all of this, for I have mentioned it more than once.....and still, he chooses to ignore this. What does this mean? Does this mean he doesn't care or that he is simply being an average guy...trying to avoid another rant of his wife.

I feel like crying. I do.
I'm in a fucked up situation.
Can't live with him ...can't live without him.
aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrggggggggg.

ok. now I have to do work.
Prepare 30 images for my portfolio. It's past midnight. :(
At least I put my foot down about walking the dog. Although, apparently he's mad about that enforced chore now, for he has just closed the door on me without a word of "good-night" or anything.
HOW DARE HE BE MAD AT ME???!!! I am the one who has all rights to be angry tonight. How can he possibly justify his sulk? (is that a word? ..I don't know and I'm too busy to look it up. In fact, I shouldn't even be writing at all...but I had to get this off my chest first.)

I've been exposed (again)

How many blogs are out there? Millions?
My measely little blog has like 3 visitors a week... but somehow, with my luck, one of these visitors works at Dario's job, recognized me and then started telling my husband how much I bitch about him and how I want to be with other people.
Well, thank you very much.
;)
(someone didn't get me. ... I've been w/ D for 10 years... I don't think I could be without him....obviously, whoever recognized me was a man...not a woman.)

Really, I shouldn't be posting my picture on the blog and then be upset when someone recognizes me...but COME ON....millions of blogs....millions of readers....3 pick my crap to look at...and one of them works with my husband. What are the odds???

So, I was about to discontinue my blog again ...and maybe I will...but for now, I'll let it be and think about it. I mean, I want to be anonymous (somewhat) but I put my picture(s) up,...I don't want anyone I know to read my stuff (with one or two exceptions - closest friends in Austria)....but I publish on the World Wide Web. Why don't I just write at home? On my computer. ... I guess, if I think somebody is reading it (even if I don't know who), I don't write as much boring shit I used to write in my regular journals. I can't even re-read those myself...I bore myself to death.
When I write on my blog, I at least write as if someone will be reading this (i.e. I don't ramble about nothing and all the little boring details....except for now maybe).
anyway... I'm thinking about it.
In the end, this is a record for me.

and whoever it is that is telling Dario stuff from this blog: shut up! (and I mean this in the nicest way possible. Show some discretion, please.) Men really are bigger gossip aunts than women. It's terrible.

I told D he could read my blog, but really...why would he want to? It reads like a really long rant about my husband's short-comings. Why would he want to expose himself to that? Writing is therapeutic for me ...this is my vent.... so really, it is not for him to read. He shall have my positive input. He gets enough regular face-to-face bitching, ...no need to get written reinforcement of my opinions.

where am I?

In case you're wondering why I haven't posted in a while, I've been busy-busy preparing for Graduate School. Everytime I do want to write it is to bitch about D, and I feel like that's an old story (but it will be coming back, nevertheless).

:) until then,
take care & carpe diem!
s.

W.I.C.O.E. (Women In Charge of Everything) class schedule

Since I seem to not find the time to write on my blog lately (->am preparing applications to go to Graduate School), I am putting up this quite funny fwd a friend sent to me:

W.I.C.O.E.(Women In Charge Of Everything) is proud to announce the opening of its EVENING CLASSES FOR MEN! OPEN TO MEN ONLY
Note: due to the complexity and level of difficulty, each course will accept a maximum of eight participants. Topics covered in this 2-day course include:
DAY ONE

HOW TO FILL ICE CUBE TRAYS
Step by step guide with slide presentation

TOILET ROLLS -- DO THEY GROW ON THE HOLDERS?
Roundtable discussion

DIFFERENCES BETWEEN LAUNDRY BASKET & FLOOR
Practicing with hamper (Pictures and graphics)

DISHES & SILVERWARE; DO THEY LEVITATE/FLY TO KITCHEN SINK OR DISHWASHER BY THEMSELVES?
Debate among a panel of experts.

REMOTE CONTROL
Losing the remote control - Help line and support groups

LEARNING HOW TO FIND THINGS
Starting with looking in the right place instead of turning the house upside down while screaming for help - Open forum

DAY TWO

EMPTY MILK CARTONS; DO THEY BELONG IN THE FRIDGE OR THE BIN?
Group discussion and role play

HEALTH WATCH; BRINGING HER FLOWERS IS NOT HARMFUL TO YOUR HEALTH
PowerPoint presentation

REAL MEN ASK FOR DIRECTIONS WHEN LOST
Real life testimonial from the one man who did

IS IT GENETICALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO SIT QUIETLY AS SHE PARALLEL PARKS?
Driving simulation

LIVING WITH ADULTS; BASIC DIFFERENCES BETWEEN YOUR MOTHER AND YOUR PARTNER
Online class and role playing

HOW TO BE THE IDEAL SHOPPING COMPANION
Relaxation exercises, meditation and breathing techniques

REMEMBERING IMPORTANT DATES & CALLING WHEN YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE
Bring your calendar or PDA to class

GETTING OVER IT; LEARNING HOW TO LIVE WITH BEING WRONG ALL THE TIME
Individual counselors available

;)

time management issues

I'm in a time management class this week, which I had actually scheduled for Dario months ago but he couldn't make it. I had reminded him about it at least 15 times within the past 3 weeks in forms of post-it notes, e-mails, messages on the shopping list, etc. etc. .... maybe he became desensitized and that's why he forgot.
Anyway, so as not to waste the money already spent on it, I joined the course myself. Was about an hour late for class, so maybe it won't be such a bore for me after all. More ironic, however, do I find the instructor's complete and utter lack of time & productivity relation. Every word in the course notes she highlights, then she makes us work in groups to answer simple sets of 3 questions but allots about 20 minutes to each set so I end up having to fill most of the remaining time making small talk with this older Russian programmer, which seems like a really nice man, if only I could understand what the hell he's saying. After having discussed the 3 questions (which seem to appear every few pages in a very similar form) in a dyad ad nauseum, she then has us all repeat our answers to the class, which is then followed by a recap and interpretation of our responses. What is the point of that? Can't I just tell you my answer right away? And when are you going to stop analyzing me ( I know why I'm here: I can't manage time) and give me some proven systems to handle the problem?

Dario says he won't make it to class tomorrow either, so I have to put in another day...
this sucks.

sisi...you need a better attitude...
... I'm working on it....but don't worry, you won't see it here (on this blog)...this will remain the bitchin' spot. ;)

just another rant

One of my friends pointed out to me - after an e-mail I sent containing actual praise for Dario and something about how much I truly appreciate his love - that my blog would make one wonder, why I stay with this man.

Well, first of all ... I wonder that myself...all the time....but truly, there is more important shit than the daily annoyances. His love is important, his embraced responsibility of fatherhood, his understanding and his "always letting me be".

But this blog isn't about that. This is my venting spot and I came here to bitch. And so here my inevitable rant:
I went to the movies tonight. Usually, I feel so grateful that I get to go out and D stays with the kids, I forget that he wouldn't leave the house regardless. So, when I come home I am ok with walking the dog, even though it usually is a rather late hour.
Today, however, when I rode up the elevator with Rosa, I announced my great dread of still having to walk the dog in this cold, late night and she reminded me of something I wouldn't even have noticed.
She said, you know, I can't believe this. Today, before we left, I asked Dario why he couldn't just get one of the boys to come downstairs for a few minutes so he could walk the dog. Your wife has had a long day, took the kids out, came home, did the dishes, cleaned up, fed the kids, bathed them, and put them to bed. The least you could do is walk the dog for her, man.
- Oh, I'm just getting over a cold... is what he answered. I guess, that didn't matter when he spent hours out earlier, running personal errands.
See, this is why I am glad I'm not living with anyone else, Rosa said, I know it's just me and I don't have to expect anything from anyone.
- Well, if you wouldn't have pointed it out, I wouldn't have expected anything either, I said, thanks, now I'm kinda pissed.

Of course, when I then took the dog out, he peed in the elevator (he never has any accidents but he is on some sort of allergy medicine and should be walked more frequently during its administration). With my luck, there was someone with me in the elevator and now it looks like I'm the one who lets her dog urinate in the building and doesn't clean up after him.
I had to rush T out, so the witness couldn't witness me wiping up the mess. sigh.
Needless to say, it didn't help my frustration with Dario's indolence as I was cleaning up dog urine for 15 minutes. When I finally took off my coat, put down the rubber gloves and the antibacterial wipes the clock read 1:30 a.m. I stood there in the living room for a minute, taking in the mess of the house and finally I walked into the bedroom to wake Dario just to tell him that I think he's taking advantage of me. If he doesn't do it, I'll have to do it and he knows that,.. so he is totally exploiting this simple and sad reality I create.

ok. 2 a.m. ... a million things to do. have to work on my grad school essay, decide on portfolio pieces, prepare milk for baby's next waking, take a shower, and tidy up the bathroom mess from my earlier bathing of the kids.
I'm not proof-reading today. too tired. gotta go.

cruel honesty

so, I'm slaving in the kitchen for an hour, whining and crying kids hanging on my pantlegs, trying to prepare a half-way decent meal with one little hot-plate and the miniversion of the Foreman- grill (we still have no gas). Then I clean the table, prepare the kids' plates (cute arrangements, bite-sized cut meat, etc. - whatever one needs to endure to make one's children eat) and the first comment out of Maia's mouth is:
- Mo-oom.
- yes.
- ehm. the meat tastes like....curtain.

The analogy was so amusing to me that I really wasn't all that insulted. I was more curious about the origin of this comparison. "And how would you know? Ever tried curtain before?"
- "No," she said. "Then eat up," I ordered ...and then with a bit of reconsideration and pity: "You can have some ketchup if you would like to."