I am always, always wondering ... like we probably all are... why it is that
a) I believe in God (i.e. is it real belief or is it fabricated through social conditioning? is it me and my emotions, which sometimes create these physical encounters I interpret as a small sign of God saying something like: "hey, it's me. just in case you were wondering where I've been."?
b) if God exists, why is it that so much bad happens in this world and how do people manage to stay faithful to God in situations far worse than we could ever imagine (e.g. civilians in warzones, people struck by terrible fates, illnesses, etc.) ?
To the latter question I come up with plausible explanations once in a while. Not always do I write them down but tonight's thought struck me rather hard and I just had to write it down to get it out of my system.
What if we are just not meant to be happy and blissful in this life? What if that is just an added little bonus given to us in a special way... unconnected to all material values in this world and thus attainable for us all (if we just figure out how). Everyone knows the saying "happiness comes from within" .....
So, what if life is really not meant to be all that great?
This is, of course, a rather depressing thought and maybe I've just spent too much time in the city.
Today, on my way home, I suddenly found myself in the middle of a police-car chase (gunfire in the distance and all), watched an undercover cop put his knee into some guy's neck to handcuff him, and then was forced to back up an entire street (against the one-way direction), almost losing my mirror to one of the police-cars racing by me.
As I was walking the dog later, a bit depressed about the human darkness (yeah, watching Harry Potter tonight didn't help either), I thought hmm, and this isn't even that bad. What about the people in Afghanistan, in Sudan, in Iraq, wherever, ... that's where it really sucks...and what do you do then? When you're trapped in a situation like that? Your children, your family dying around you? People killing each other on a daily basis? How do you find God then? ............ God, ...it really must suck being God. ....... it's hard to keep everyone happy.... So, that's when the thought sprang to mind that this might not be the objective.
Maybe we are here to learn. Learn to help each other. .... But, somehow I'm not seeing that this plan is working....so maybe that isn't the plan. ....ugh...humans suck. ...most of them, anyway.
So, can't you tell me how I could help [in this world] more efficiently? ...I mean, that can't be it, can it? A couple of donations here and there....trying to be a good person..... that can't be all? That's a mighty measly contribution I am making here. Is this all I am here for? Come on, use me.
I am willing to make sacrifices.
And then I thought about the graveness of my easy talk. How much am I really willing to sacrifice? How self-less am I really? Donating money & time is easy.... ..... I am just another human.....
...
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Friday, November 25, 2005
my $236 tunafish panini
I am tired of the city. tired tired tired.
Tuesday, Dario and I took the day off for various errands. In the morning, however, we both took Maia for a fitting at The Gap (I'm trying to get her discovered for TV or something, so somebody else can pay for her college tuition...well, I guess, if she'd land a commercial that somebody would be she herself. I'm just not sure how much longer I can deal with these auditions, though. ugh. I'm just not the type for this kind of activity.) Anyway, on our way back up, Maia fell asleep in the car, and I asked D to pull over by this sandwich shop, which -as I just recently discovered - makes the best tunafish salad panini I've ever tasted (and I don't even like tuna).
So, I go in and order. While I am waiting for my sandwich (forever), I see a police car pull over next to our van. I watch as the female officer, packed in a heavy orange rain-coat, steps out and begins writing a ticket. Now granted, we are standing in a busstop, I am surprised that Dario seems to put up no fight so I run outside and ask why she isn't just making him leave. He's sitting behind the wheel and the engine is running. The whole point of him waiting in the car is that he can move in case a bus comes or a traffic-cop.
"This is a bus-stop," she says unimpressed by my plea.
"But we can move right now...it's not like we're parked here," I argue and then notice that Dario is on the phone with his laptop steadied on the wheel, completely ignoring the officer.
"You can tell that to my supervisor," she replies as she clips the $115 ticket behind my windshield wiper.
I sigh, see that there is no point in arguing and walk back into the store to see after my panini.
It still isn't done and I shoot the guy behind the counter a questioning look.
"It's coming. It's coming," he says with an obvious understanding that the kitchen is sure taking a long time with this damn sandwich.
Finally, someone hands me the bag with my lunch and Dario's tea. I turn around and as I step out the store I notice another cop car pulling over next to our van.
I speed up and yell, "we're moving, we're moving!"
"Can't stand here," says one of them as I look to Dario slightly panicking. I can't believe my eyes. He is still on the phone and the laptop is still on. He seems to make no motion to move.
I pull open the door to the driver's side and tell him to move over. It is raining harder now.
"You have to move this car!" shouts the other officer.
"Hold on," I say,"We're going. We're going!" I turn to Dario, "Move over! Get off the phone. What are you doing??" D is unimpressed, steps out of the car and as he is walking over to the passenger's side, still with the phone to his ear, he pulls the ticket off the windshield and tosses it in front of the police car.
"That's it", says the officer behind the wheel, "I'm giving you a ticket!"
And that's when I lost my cool. "No," I cry as I actually try to physically hold back the cop who has stepped out to write another ticket, "we just got a ticket! I don't have money for another one!!!" The panic and whine in my voice, as well as the oncoming tears are embarrassing and I step back immediately to shut up and compose myself. This is how easily things can get of hand, I think, amazing how fast this can go.
It's just a ticket, I tell myself trying to get back my cool, get over it. But I am having a hard time getting the fact out of my mind that we have only a few hundred dollars left on our account with plenty of bills still to be paid.
$236 dollars for a panini, I think, as I receive my ticket with as much grace as I can muster. Now I am a true New Yorker.
Tuesday, Dario and I took the day off for various errands. In the morning, however, we both took Maia for a fitting at The Gap (I'm trying to get her discovered for TV or something, so somebody else can pay for her college tuition...well, I guess, if she'd land a commercial that somebody would be she herself. I'm just not sure how much longer I can deal with these auditions, though. ugh. I'm just not the type for this kind of activity.) Anyway, on our way back up, Maia fell asleep in the car, and I asked D to pull over by this sandwich shop, which -as I just recently discovered - makes the best tunafish salad panini I've ever tasted (and I don't even like tuna).
So, I go in and order. While I am waiting for my sandwich (forever), I see a police car pull over next to our van. I watch as the female officer, packed in a heavy orange rain-coat, steps out and begins writing a ticket. Now granted, we are standing in a busstop, I am surprised that Dario seems to put up no fight so I run outside and ask why she isn't just making him leave. He's sitting behind the wheel and the engine is running. The whole point of him waiting in the car is that he can move in case a bus comes or a traffic-cop.
"This is a bus-stop," she says unimpressed by my plea.
"But we can move right now...it's not like we're parked here," I argue and then notice that Dario is on the phone with his laptop steadied on the wheel, completely ignoring the officer.
"You can tell that to my supervisor," she replies as she clips the $115 ticket behind my windshield wiper.
I sigh, see that there is no point in arguing and walk back into the store to see after my panini.
It still isn't done and I shoot the guy behind the counter a questioning look.
"It's coming. It's coming," he says with an obvious understanding that the kitchen is sure taking a long time with this damn sandwich.
Finally, someone hands me the bag with my lunch and Dario's tea. I turn around and as I step out the store I notice another cop car pulling over next to our van.
I speed up and yell, "we're moving, we're moving!"
"Can't stand here," says one of them as I look to Dario slightly panicking. I can't believe my eyes. He is still on the phone and the laptop is still on. He seems to make no motion to move.
I pull open the door to the driver's side and tell him to move over. It is raining harder now.
"You have to move this car!" shouts the other officer.
"Hold on," I say,"We're going. We're going!" I turn to Dario, "Move over! Get off the phone. What are you doing??" D is unimpressed, steps out of the car and as he is walking over to the passenger's side, still with the phone to his ear, he pulls the ticket off the windshield and tosses it in front of the police car.
"That's it", says the officer behind the wheel, "I'm giving you a ticket!"
And that's when I lost my cool. "No," I cry as I actually try to physically hold back the cop who has stepped out to write another ticket, "we just got a ticket! I don't have money for another one!!!" The panic and whine in my voice, as well as the oncoming tears are embarrassing and I step back immediately to shut up and compose myself. This is how easily things can get of hand, I think, amazing how fast this can go.
It's just a ticket, I tell myself trying to get back my cool, get over it. But I am having a hard time getting the fact out of my mind that we have only a few hundred dollars left on our account with plenty of bills still to be paid.
$236 dollars for a panini, I think, as I receive my ticket with as much grace as I can muster. Now I am a true New Yorker.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
one hit after the other
People around me haven't really shown themselves from their best sides lately. Everyday I seem to be able to add another one to the pile of "humans I've been screwed over by".
Today, it is the hair-stylist who gave me the best haircut I've had in years.
I should be happy but I can't get over the fact that she actually totally screwed me.
A few months ago, a good friend of mine gave me a spa certificate he bought, after some promo-girl from this Aveda spa had approached us having lunch in the park. He gave it to me as a birthday present, and I was quite excited about the fact that for 50 bucks I was going to get 4 visits to this spa/salon, which that PR girl was praising (note to myself AGAIN: if it sounds too good to be true you will be screwed one way or the other.)
So, finally...this week I had time to make an appointment, and I picked the haircut voucher for my first visit. When I called, I was told just bring 10 dollars for the service fee.
Ok, I think, can't be totally free.
However, once I got there and sat down on the chair to be consulted by the hair stylist, she tried to talk me into coloring, highlighting, vitamin-soaking, whatever to which I replied that I do not have much money...am willing to spend maybe another 30 or 40 bucks on adding color and to please refrain from any other cost-adding activities. I'm just happy to get a free haircut.
I was so happy that I actually, for the first time in a long time, had the desire to have a real talk with someone I do not know. Usually when I go to the hairdresser, I am not interested in talking since I hate small-talk and a real conversation is difficult, for it requires an openness and true interest I have long lost. However, today was different. I really wanted to listen and I asked question after question. So, after a few minutes the girl who worked on my hair finally opened up and gave up the small-talk to switch to a real conversation. I listened to her, I exchanged opinions, told her about my life and about my current struggles (and this is something I usually don't do with strangers...unless, you're counting this blog;)).
In the beginning of this conversation of ours(before we got to other topics than hair) I must have mentioned my financial hardship at least 2 or 3 times. I also threw in once or twice how I got this certificate as a present, how I usually just cut my hair like once a year and how I used to get my hair done for 10 bucks up on Dykman and 207th.
So, when she then, after presenting me with the best haircut I've ever received, wrote me a bill for $175 (!!!), I was dumbstruck. I didn't even know what to say. She put me in such a spot that I just found it impossible to argue. I am such a sucker that way. As much as I can bitch, be nice to me and I just can't switch over that quickly.
But, ..I thought...the coloring is like 40-50 bucks extra, I said weakly.
Yes, but I gave you a full head of highlights and that's 120, the girl said.
I have never had highlights done so when she smooth-talked me into it before the cut and didn't mention the difference in price, I was sold. It hurt, I must say, for I remember distinctly pointing out how I do not want to pay more than that extra charge for the color in that same pre-cut conversation during which she advised me to get a few highlights.
Now, what do you do in such a situation? You're standing in a busy hairsalon. You've just received an amazing haircut in addition to having spent an hour and a half talking very nicely and openly with this person who is now screwing you over.
And she knew that she was doing wrong, too. She was trying to justify it in all kinds of ways, she even gave me gift-certificates for my next visit. She just wouldn't shut up and suddenly everything she said seemed insincere (oh, you look great...you look like you're twenty-five now). Ehm, was that supposed to be a compliment? I have no problem being 31. I don't look old. 30 is not old...but I remember how it was when I was 26...30 always seemed like the land of no return...the end of my youth, whatever...so I guess, she (as a 26-year old) was just trying to say something she thought I wanted to hear. sigh.
Rosa, who accompanied me, told me to just let it go. I never spend much on myself and it's ok to splurge once in a while. All I kept thinking was that I do not have this kind of money. I have kids to feed, bills to pay, and a 230 dollar parking ticket on my record from yesterday.
But really, I realized, it wasn't the money. It was the fact that I had once again seen the ugly face of the city-dweller. I won't let anyone else in, anymore, I said to Rosa. I'm going to become bitter and go into recluse. What is wrong with people? Why is everyone trying to screw everyone?
Today, it is the hair-stylist who gave me the best haircut I've had in years.
I should be happy but I can't get over the fact that she actually totally screwed me.
A few months ago, a good friend of mine gave me a spa certificate he bought, after some promo-girl from this Aveda spa had approached us having lunch in the park. He gave it to me as a birthday present, and I was quite excited about the fact that for 50 bucks I was going to get 4 visits to this spa/salon, which that PR girl was praising (note to myself AGAIN: if it sounds too good to be true you will be screwed one way or the other.)
So, finally...this week I had time to make an appointment, and I picked the haircut voucher for my first visit. When I called, I was told just bring 10 dollars for the service fee.
Ok, I think, can't be totally free.
However, once I got there and sat down on the chair to be consulted by the hair stylist, she tried to talk me into coloring, highlighting, vitamin-soaking, whatever to which I replied that I do not have much money...am willing to spend maybe another 30 or 40 bucks on adding color and to please refrain from any other cost-adding activities. I'm just happy to get a free haircut.
I was so happy that I actually, for the first time in a long time, had the desire to have a real talk with someone I do not know. Usually when I go to the hairdresser, I am not interested in talking since I hate small-talk and a real conversation is difficult, for it requires an openness and true interest I have long lost. However, today was different. I really wanted to listen and I asked question after question. So, after a few minutes the girl who worked on my hair finally opened up and gave up the small-talk to switch to a real conversation. I listened to her, I exchanged opinions, told her about my life and about my current struggles (and this is something I usually don't do with strangers...unless, you're counting this blog;)).
In the beginning of this conversation of ours(before we got to other topics than hair) I must have mentioned my financial hardship at least 2 or 3 times. I also threw in once or twice how I got this certificate as a present, how I usually just cut my hair like once a year and how I used to get my hair done for 10 bucks up on Dykman and 207th.
So, when she then, after presenting me with the best haircut I've ever received, wrote me a bill for $175 (!!!), I was dumbstruck. I didn't even know what to say. She put me in such a spot that I just found it impossible to argue. I am such a sucker that way. As much as I can bitch, be nice to me and I just can't switch over that quickly.
But, ..I thought...the coloring is like 40-50 bucks extra, I said weakly.
Yes, but I gave you a full head of highlights and that's 120, the girl said.
I have never had highlights done so when she smooth-talked me into it before the cut and didn't mention the difference in price, I was sold. It hurt, I must say, for I remember distinctly pointing out how I do not want to pay more than that extra charge for the color in that same pre-cut conversation during which she advised me to get a few highlights.
Now, what do you do in such a situation? You're standing in a busy hairsalon. You've just received an amazing haircut in addition to having spent an hour and a half talking very nicely and openly with this person who is now screwing you over.
And she knew that she was doing wrong, too. She was trying to justify it in all kinds of ways, she even gave me gift-certificates for my next visit. She just wouldn't shut up and suddenly everything she said seemed insincere (oh, you look great...you look like you're twenty-five now). Ehm, was that supposed to be a compliment? I have no problem being 31. I don't look old. 30 is not old...but I remember how it was when I was 26...30 always seemed like the land of no return...the end of my youth, whatever...so I guess, she (as a 26-year old) was just trying to say something she thought I wanted to hear. sigh.
Rosa, who accompanied me, told me to just let it go. I never spend much on myself and it's ok to splurge once in a while. All I kept thinking was that I do not have this kind of money. I have kids to feed, bills to pay, and a 230 dollar parking ticket on my record from yesterday.
But really, I realized, it wasn't the money. It was the fact that I had once again seen the ugly face of the city-dweller. I won't let anyone else in, anymore, I said to Rosa. I'm going to become bitter and go into recluse. What is wrong with people? Why is everyone trying to screw everyone?
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
I'm being censored
some people are writing me hate-mails in response to my blogs, so I'm taking it down a notch, have deleted my last entry, and am considering to close shop AGAIN and rebuild somewhere else, where I can finally be free. And this time I won't share the damn thing with anyone. One snitch is enough and the anonymity of this blogspot is gone.
This is my personal page. I can write and bitch about whatever I want but as soon as I open it to someone I know I have responsibilities. People are offended quite easily ... and I understand since I am quite defensive myself. Shit, I wish I'd care less. Dario's state of mind is like my ultimate goal in life. To just give a shit. That's true bliss. ;)
Unfortunately, I think too much.
And I've once again been stabbed in the back by someone I thought was my friend. (I'm not prepared for this shit. I come from a small town in Austria. There was no Highschool grouping, no ostracizing, whatever school-kids do here to kill each other's confidence and trust in each other.)
I won't go into the details, for I would like to forget about this as soon as possible but since this happened to me before, I know it will take a while. I just care too much.
This time it's actually worse. My reputation has been totally dragged through the mud. Someone tried to twist my discretion into a case of dishonesty and I ended up looking like a fool.
One of the things I've learned: don't trust anyone....and... people are childish.
And this is why I need to leave this place soon. If I can make it at all possible, I will get out of here, for I believe this is going to happen again and I will become a bitter person who can't find trust in friendships anymore.
If any of my real friends here could read this right now they'd probably slap me upside down the head. Of course, I have a couple of really great, honest people I can count on as my friends, however, I either close up now to all future possible friendships or I leave. I'm not taking that risk of opening up again. When I give friendship I am prepared to give all I have. This is why it hurts so much when it turns out to be a fake.
I'm serious about leaving. I just don't know how feasible it will be. First thing, I have to find an affordable flight (did you hear about the new post-911 government fee? I tried to book a ticket to Austria for about 300.- including all regular taxes and then when I tried to check-out they added a 500.- govt. fee to the price!!! When will I ever be able to afford to get my whole family home for a visit?) Anyway....I'm trying not to think about that right now. I can start my job-search in Vienna via the internet.
I don't know if anything will be better....politics suck over there, as well...plenty of people are stuck-up or right-winged or whatever else can piss one off ...but,... as I've said before (oh, I deleted that entry) ... at least, you know what you're getting. If they're gonna be nice they're gonna be nice, if they're gonna be assholes they're gonna be assholes pretty much from the beginning. There is no pretense.
I need to find a place of peace.
Maybe I just need to be away from the city...
Can you tell I'm on a low?
It's been a bad bad day.
PS: I've turned off commenting to avoid any more impulsive hate messages from certain cholerics. sigh. If you would like to comment on any of my crap ...feel free to e-mail me.
Maybe there is someone who could tell me that it isn't like that here everywhere in America. And maybe they could tell me EXACTLY where that place is so I can move there.
Obviously, I also like living in the U.S. ....why else, would I have stuck around for so long. I like the diversity of this country, how far people have come, what kind of differences people have made here; I love the landscapes, the fact that I can hop into my car and go from ocean, to mountains, to deserts and to drylands and don't even have to bring my passport (although, nowadays one better carry i.d....after all, I am half-Syrian. ;) ..... my father, who's just come back from visiting home (Syria) tells me that the people on the street are scared over there. They are scared the Americans are going to level them as they have done elsewhere in the Middle-East. This is sad to hear.
Someone told me I might have a superiority complex ...always talking bad about America and praising Europe. Obviously, this person does not know me very well. First of all, I bitch at any government there is...and wherever I see injustice or wrongdoing. When I'm in Austria, I'm actually more upset at the politicians than here, for it is "my country"....I kinda feel responsible for the shit they talk. Half my youth I spent on demonstrations and platforms, writing articles and joining vigils, all in protest of the right-winged party of the government.
And when it comes to bitching about people then know that I usually defend my adopted home (or rather, its individuals) when it is being attacked by anyone I know back home...and that's pretty much everyone by now (thank you, Mr. Bush) ..... but I know better than to throw everyone in one pot....I have friends here, ...I have come to understand the culture of small-talk, I can usually spot superficiality ... nevertheless I'm still lost sometimes.
This is my personal page. I can write and bitch about whatever I want but as soon as I open it to someone I know I have responsibilities. People are offended quite easily ... and I understand since I am quite defensive myself. Shit, I wish I'd care less. Dario's state of mind is like my ultimate goal in life. To just give a shit. That's true bliss. ;)
Unfortunately, I think too much.
And I've once again been stabbed in the back by someone I thought was my friend. (I'm not prepared for this shit. I come from a small town in Austria. There was no Highschool grouping, no ostracizing, whatever school-kids do here to kill each other's confidence and trust in each other.)
I won't go into the details, for I would like to forget about this as soon as possible but since this happened to me before, I know it will take a while. I just care too much.
This time it's actually worse. My reputation has been totally dragged through the mud. Someone tried to twist my discretion into a case of dishonesty and I ended up looking like a fool.
One of the things I've learned: don't trust anyone....and... people are childish.
And this is why I need to leave this place soon. If I can make it at all possible, I will get out of here, for I believe this is going to happen again and I will become a bitter person who can't find trust in friendships anymore.
If any of my real friends here could read this right now they'd probably slap me upside down the head. Of course, I have a couple of really great, honest people I can count on as my friends, however, I either close up now to all future possible friendships or I leave. I'm not taking that risk of opening up again. When I give friendship I am prepared to give all I have. This is why it hurts so much when it turns out to be a fake.
I'm serious about leaving. I just don't know how feasible it will be. First thing, I have to find an affordable flight (did you hear about the new post-911 government fee? I tried to book a ticket to Austria for about 300.- including all regular taxes and then when I tried to check-out they added a 500.- govt. fee to the price!!! When will I ever be able to afford to get my whole family home for a visit?) Anyway....I'm trying not to think about that right now. I can start my job-search in Vienna via the internet.
I don't know if anything will be better....politics suck over there, as well...plenty of people are stuck-up or right-winged or whatever else can piss one off ...but,... as I've said before (oh, I deleted that entry) ... at least, you know what you're getting. If they're gonna be nice they're gonna be nice, if they're gonna be assholes they're gonna be assholes pretty much from the beginning. There is no pretense.
I need to find a place of peace.
Maybe I just need to be away from the city...
Can you tell I'm on a low?
It's been a bad bad day.
PS: I've turned off commenting to avoid any more impulsive hate messages from certain cholerics. sigh. If you would like to comment on any of my crap ...feel free to e-mail me.
Maybe there is someone who could tell me that it isn't like that here everywhere in America. And maybe they could tell me EXACTLY where that place is so I can move there.
Obviously, I also like living in the U.S. ....why else, would I have stuck around for so long. I like the diversity of this country, how far people have come, what kind of differences people have made here; I love the landscapes, the fact that I can hop into my car and go from ocean, to mountains, to deserts and to drylands and don't even have to bring my passport (although, nowadays one better carry i.d....after all, I am half-Syrian. ;) ..... my father, who's just come back from visiting home (Syria) tells me that the people on the street are scared over there. They are scared the Americans are going to level them as they have done elsewhere in the Middle-East. This is sad to hear.
Someone told me I might have a superiority complex ...always talking bad about America and praising Europe. Obviously, this person does not know me very well. First of all, I bitch at any government there is...and wherever I see injustice or wrongdoing. When I'm in Austria, I'm actually more upset at the politicians than here, for it is "my country"....I kinda feel responsible for the shit they talk. Half my youth I spent on demonstrations and platforms, writing articles and joining vigils, all in protest of the right-winged party of the government.
And when it comes to bitching about people then know that I usually defend my adopted home (or rather, its individuals) when it is being attacked by anyone I know back home...and that's pretty much everyone by now (thank you, Mr. Bush) ..... but I know better than to throw everyone in one pot....I have friends here, ...I have come to understand the culture of small-talk, I can usually spot superficiality ... nevertheless I'm still lost sometimes.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
the story with the gas-leak
So, Con-Edison came to read the gas meter yesterday and decided that they smelled gas and must cut off all supply of the latter for the next few months!!!! There are over 70 apartments in this building. Granted, I myself could probably survive just fine on microwaveable foods and sandwiches (I already do most of the time), we need to cook for the kids.... and Thankgiving is around the corner...and X-mas....no dinner invitations this year (Dario probably considers this a lucky side-effect for the lack of a better word....I'm too lazy/tired to look up a synonym...an the battery on my laptop is on 2%...so I might lose all if I keep writing much longer.)
The thing is, I've been told by my neighbors that people have been smelling gas in this building for over 20 years. Unfortunately, now that Con-Ed knows, they can't risk getting sued (in case we blow up), so they just turned off the gas to cover their asses. We (since this is a co-op) get stuck with having to deal with trying to fix this. First estimates 100,000-200,000. Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh.I see a huge assessment heading my way. This sucks.
I remember, before we bought this place, I specifically asked the managing agent whether she'd anticipate the already unusually high maintenance to go up any time soon.
No way, she said... I haven't raised it in 5 years...you should be fine for a while.
HA, ...the damn maintenance went up before we even moved in. Since then it has again risen and is now about to be completely blown out of proportion. aaaaahhhhhhh. I DON't HAVE MONEYYYYYYYYY. Stop giving me bills, everybodyyyyyyy!
....and Rosa tells me they're going to turn off the heat, too....and they might be breaking some walls...
The thing is, I've been told by my neighbors that people have been smelling gas in this building for over 20 years. Unfortunately, now that Con-Ed knows, they can't risk getting sued (in case we blow up), so they just turned off the gas to cover their asses. We (since this is a co-op) get stuck with having to deal with trying to fix this. First estimates 100,000-200,000. Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh.I see a huge assessment heading my way. This sucks.
I remember, before we bought this place, I specifically asked the managing agent whether she'd anticipate the already unusually high maintenance to go up any time soon.
No way, she said... I haven't raised it in 5 years...you should be fine for a while.
HA, ...the damn maintenance went up before we even moved in. Since then it has again risen and is now about to be completely blown out of proportion. aaaaahhhhhhh. I DON't HAVE MONEYYYYYYYYY. Stop giving me bills, everybodyyyyyyy!
....and Rosa tells me they're going to turn off the heat, too....and they might be breaking some walls...
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
things that upset me today
- situation in France and poor, one-sided news coverage (without deeper understanding/analysis)....[finally got something worth listening to at NPR]
- situation in Jerusalem and the way people hate each other all under the name of God(whatever happened to "thou shalt love thy neighbor" or however that goes in English?)
- who's going to be NY major and why ... money and ad-campaigns should be kept out of politics. I was always convinced that ads for politicians lead to corruption (corruption of the politician for he/she must suddenly adhere to PR-rules, and can never admit to wrong-doings [i.e. must lie], for this can be used against him in smear-campaigns of opponents and corruption of the public mind, for they'll buy anything if just presented well enough.)
- most TV-news stations and their ads (with all the super-sensationalist cuts and sounds) and the sad fact that the mass won't watch if they don't do it that way.
- people judging you ( "Why do you see the speck in your neighbor's eye, but do not notice the log in your own")
- how many freaking people are trafficking the city at any given moment. (note: sometimes I love that fact but today I hate it.)
- that I seem to not be able to get a grip on the amount of work I am supposed to do.
- the fact that I have had a tooth-ache since September and keep on going back to the same dentist because I think the problem is me - i.e. my stupid, non-cooperative teeth (MOVE ON already!)
...of course, there is more that I think and worry about every day...like world hunger, and people killing or prostituing innocent children, and corruption and self-fishness and just everything but my list wouldn't end and I wouldn't be able to live and appreciate my life....or maybe this is exactly why I am able to appreciate the things I have this much. I am not rich but I have all I need and even though I'm no part of a religion anymore I know God has been good to me and I'm thankful for that. I don't understand how he/she/whatever works and how I get to be lucky as opposed to an innocent but suffering child in the Sudan for example. ...Maybe it really is all karma...and we do have many lives...and whoever I was before has behaved really nicely. Otherwise this whole world is just too random at times. Then again,...it's not that random....since that child in Sudan wouldn't have to suffer if all the people in the world (or even just in its country) would spread their fortune, their knowledge, everything they have .... I wonder what world this would be if mankind would suddenly lose all selfish and malignant thoughts? Maybe it would create an impossible world with new and different problems but I sure would love to see it.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
what's up with the drama in my head?
very disturbing dreams tonight:
first Maia ran away from me as I was trying to get baby out of the car (in a parking lot) and got hit by a car. It wasn't a very bad hit, since it was A) in a parking lot and B) the car almost made it to a stop but, of course, Maia was crying ..and she started bleeding a bit out of her nose and her mouth. So, I wanted to tell the driver not to worry but it seemed like he didn't anyway since he threw in the rear-gear and backed away from us. I was outraged and started running after him, Maia crying in my arms. When I reached his car, as he was waiting to get out of the driveway of the lot, I shouted:
"I can't believe you're going to pull off a hit&run!... It might be nothing but I just want your insurance info in case there are any medical costs.... If you pull away, I'm going to sue you!"
No reaction. Just panic in his and his passenger's eyes. He continued backing up. "I have your license plate number. I will find you!" I shouted angrily. And then they got out of the car. The passenger pulled a gun from the inside of his jacket. Oh, shit...I guess, getting shot is worse than having to pay for Maia's concussion, I thought, let's get outta here. So, I started running. I don't remember if they opened fire, I don't remember if I got shot in the back. All I want to know is why my brain is working up so much drama, especially if one considers the following dream-sequence in which I am in my house's hallway (not really my house but in my dream it is) and I hear a choking and coughing. I push open the swinging door to the kitchen. Nayla is sleeping in a toddler bed, which is standing in the middle of the room. Her body is arching upward, her eyes are closed, her toes are curling...it's as if she is possessed. I am in panic. Should I be calling a doctor or an exorcist? I call Dario. I wake up.
Needless to say, I had no problem facing my very real and unexciting morning with lots of crappy housework to do.
first Maia ran away from me as I was trying to get baby out of the car (in a parking lot) and got hit by a car. It wasn't a very bad hit, since it was A) in a parking lot and B) the car almost made it to a stop but, of course, Maia was crying ..and she started bleeding a bit out of her nose and her mouth. So, I wanted to tell the driver not to worry but it seemed like he didn't anyway since he threw in the rear-gear and backed away from us. I was outraged and started running after him, Maia crying in my arms. When I reached his car, as he was waiting to get out of the driveway of the lot, I shouted:
"I can't believe you're going to pull off a hit&run!... It might be nothing but I just want your insurance info in case there are any medical costs.... If you pull away, I'm going to sue you!"
No reaction. Just panic in his and his passenger's eyes. He continued backing up. "I have your license plate number. I will find you!" I shouted angrily. And then they got out of the car. The passenger pulled a gun from the inside of his jacket. Oh, shit...I guess, getting shot is worse than having to pay for Maia's concussion, I thought, let's get outta here. So, I started running. I don't remember if they opened fire, I don't remember if I got shot in the back. All I want to know is why my brain is working up so much drama, especially if one considers the following dream-sequence in which I am in my house's hallway (not really my house but in my dream it is) and I hear a choking and coughing. I push open the swinging door to the kitchen. Nayla is sleeping in a toddler bed, which is standing in the middle of the room. Her body is arching upward, her eyes are closed, her toes are curling...it's as if she is possessed. I am in panic. Should I be calling a doctor or an exorcist? I call Dario. I wake up.
Needless to say, I had no problem facing my very real and unexciting morning with lots of crappy housework to do.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
it's 3pm and I'm still in my Pajamas
ok. maybe I should be the one visiting that Time Management Course I signed Dario up for.
So, what did I do today. I don't want to do the log-format. Too much work, and I don't have time...gotta finish up some work, get dressed, vacuum and mop this sticky floor (you know there is no more procrastinating when your slippers get stuck on every corner of the house), go get my student-i.d. (5 weeks after my class started - I am taking Yoga...made it to class twice so far), pick up Maia from pre-school, ...oh and I don't even want to think about all the webprojects I have to do tonight....
Ok, so I just explained all that's ahead for the rest of the day when I opened my paragraph up there with the indication that I will write down all that I did so far....so...hmm,...well, there is not that much. Got up 7.30, Dario was off today and for some reason he thought it would be fair if he slept in instead of me. It was too early for me to find a logical counter-argument other than "that's not fair!", so I just let it be and got my butt out of bed. A glance on the calendar told me that I had (for some strange and inexplicable reason) signed up for parents-international-cook-week at Maia's school and was thus expected to bring in a home-cooked (typical Austrian) dish. Since I didn't want to appear as pathetic as last year when I brought in two packs of butter-cookies, claiming that the manufacturers are originally from Austria (...although, Leibniz is a German company, isn't it?..well, didn't matter since it was a pretty sad attempt of being a participating parent regardless of any of my excuses).
So, in addition to having to take care of the kids this morning (make breakfast, get them dressed, etc.), I had to also cook something. Since I am not really that often in the kitchen nowadays, the only thing I could think of was to throw a bunch of frozen veggies on the stove, steam them and then blend them into a big pot of soup which I named "Special Spongebob Super Soup". I've learned a long time ago that Maia will be much more inclined to eat things which she usually wouldn't (e.g. vegetables or fruits) if we blend them into an indiscernible paste and name it something cool (e.g. Mulan juice, PrincessMermaid soup, etc.).
When Dario got up he moved straight to the computer. Hellooooo.... help anyone??
Anyway he then left to take his mother to the eye-doctor.
Once the kids were out of the house (thankfully, Rosa volunteered to take Maia to school), I skipped getting dressed (for what?) and settled down in the office to start working only to realize that something must have died in the walls. A mouse? The smell was so bad that I had to open both windows and apply every deodorized spray I have in the house. And here I still sit, in front of my computer, my back hurting from not having moved from my chair except to pee and to make coffee.
ok, I have to go.
So, what did I do today. I don't want to do the log-format. Too much work, and I don't have time...gotta finish up some work, get dressed, vacuum and mop this sticky floor (you know there is no more procrastinating when your slippers get stuck on every corner of the house), go get my student-i.d. (5 weeks after my class started - I am taking Yoga...made it to class twice so far), pick up Maia from pre-school, ...oh and I don't even want to think about all the webprojects I have to do tonight....
Ok, so I just explained all that's ahead for the rest of the day when I opened my paragraph up there with the indication that I will write down all that I did so far....so...hmm,...well, there is not that much. Got up 7.30, Dario was off today and for some reason he thought it would be fair if he slept in instead of me. It was too early for me to find a logical counter-argument other than "that's not fair!", so I just let it be and got my butt out of bed. A glance on the calendar told me that I had (for some strange and inexplicable reason) signed up for parents-international-cook-week at Maia's school and was thus expected to bring in a home-cooked (typical Austrian) dish. Since I didn't want to appear as pathetic as last year when I brought in two packs of butter-cookies, claiming that the manufacturers are originally from Austria (...although, Leibniz is a German company, isn't it?..well, didn't matter since it was a pretty sad attempt of being a participating parent regardless of any of my excuses).
So, in addition to having to take care of the kids this morning (make breakfast, get them dressed, etc.), I had to also cook something. Since I am not really that often in the kitchen nowadays, the only thing I could think of was to throw a bunch of frozen veggies on the stove, steam them and then blend them into a big pot of soup which I named "Special Spongebob Super Soup". I've learned a long time ago that Maia will be much more inclined to eat things which she usually wouldn't (e.g. vegetables or fruits) if we blend them into an indiscernible paste and name it something cool (e.g. Mulan juice, PrincessMermaid soup, etc.).
When Dario got up he moved straight to the computer. Hellooooo.... help anyone??
Anyway he then left to take his mother to the eye-doctor.
Once the kids were out of the house (thankfully, Rosa volunteered to take Maia to school), I skipped getting dressed (for what?) and settled down in the office to start working only to realize that something must have died in the walls. A mouse? The smell was so bad that I had to open both windows and apply every deodorized spray I have in the house. And here I still sit, in front of my computer, my back hurting from not having moved from my chair except to pee and to make coffee.
ok, I have to go.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
how compliments change when you're in a relationship
Today Dario finished work early and picked me up from the dentist. We grabbed a bite of food and he spent half the meal telling me about other women he has recently met or seen, one being a particularly gorgeous piece of a** (he didn't say this. I am simplifying). If I were to do this I would hear jealous/stupid comments for days.
Anyway, I probably wouldn't mind so much if he would be able to produce a couple of nice compliments for his own wife during the course of the evening.
Instead, this is what he produced:
On the subway, as we are standing close to each other sharing very little space because of the rush hour, he leans over and says: You are such a monkey. Then he smiles lovingly as if he just told me how beautiful I look today.
I say nothing, trying to remember that he is just goofy that way and doesn't realize how wrong some of his thoughtless comments sound. (Also, he tells me often enough how "sexy" he finds me....whatever...these things come over his lips easily...to anyone.... but recently he's been a bit mean to me...)
When we got home and I got out of the car to wait at the crosswalk, a ride with two cute guys slowed down, blocking traffic just to check me out.
I must be getting old, since this actually flattered me. So I turned over to Dario, who was just locking up his car and told him all happy: Hey, I just got checked out!! :)
That doesn't surprise me, he says.
Really? I ask fishing for a compliment from my husband. Why?
You're a girl and you're not fat. So naturally you're getting checked out all the time.
This is were I drew the line in my tolerance for Dario - he's just a man. I was mad and he did not get why. Does anyone get why I would be mad? ....Or maybe he did get it, and he just said it out of jealousy. As mentioned before, he doesn't handle it very well when I am the one discussing other men regardless of how harmless and unimportant the encounter.
....I don't know why I got him laid tonight. He so didn't deserve that. But I think, nowadays I would consider sex-withholding more like a punishment for myself, so I definitely don't think about it the same way as I used to. Before it used to be like this "sacred" act, the mood, the setting, everything had to be perfect, Dario had to not have fucked up for at least 24 hours, and the slightest sound could have thrown me off. I thank my strict religious upbringing for this very dysfunctional attitude towards sex. And I thank my New York girlfriends (most of them younger and much more aggressive and open-minded) for bringing my mind up to date and seeing sexuality in a much more natural way.
(excuse my English today. It is 2.45am. I've been up since 7.am this morning. All I wanted to do is back up a couple of my images, since my laptop tells me I am running out of space. However, of course, any little project always turns into some great undertaking for me. Apparently I have 22,000 images in my Picture folder. I systematically filed and named them, then dragged the first part over to a blank DVD and deleted the originals. And now the DVD doesn't want to burn. aaaaaaahrg.)
Anyway, I probably wouldn't mind so much if he would be able to produce a couple of nice compliments for his own wife during the course of the evening.
Instead, this is what he produced:
On the subway, as we are standing close to each other sharing very little space because of the rush hour, he leans over and says: You are such a monkey. Then he smiles lovingly as if he just told me how beautiful I look today.
I say nothing, trying to remember that he is just goofy that way and doesn't realize how wrong some of his thoughtless comments sound. (Also, he tells me often enough how "sexy" he finds me....whatever...these things come over his lips easily...to anyone.... but recently he's been a bit mean to me...)
When we got home and I got out of the car to wait at the crosswalk, a ride with two cute guys slowed down, blocking traffic just to check me out.
I must be getting old, since this actually flattered me. So I turned over to Dario, who was just locking up his car and told him all happy: Hey, I just got checked out!! :)
That doesn't surprise me, he says.
Really? I ask fishing for a compliment from my husband. Why?
You're a girl and you're not fat. So naturally you're getting checked out all the time.
This is were I drew the line in my tolerance for Dario - he's just a man. I was mad and he did not get why. Does anyone get why I would be mad? ....Or maybe he did get it, and he just said it out of jealousy. As mentioned before, he doesn't handle it very well when I am the one discussing other men regardless of how harmless and unimportant the encounter.
....I don't know why I got him laid tonight. He so didn't deserve that. But I think, nowadays I would consider sex-withholding more like a punishment for myself, so I definitely don't think about it the same way as I used to. Before it used to be like this "sacred" act, the mood, the setting, everything had to be perfect, Dario had to not have fucked up for at least 24 hours, and the slightest sound could have thrown me off. I thank my strict religious upbringing for this very dysfunctional attitude towards sex. And I thank my New York girlfriends (most of them younger and much more aggressive and open-minded) for bringing my mind up to date and seeing sexuality in a much more natural way.
(excuse my English today. It is 2.45am. I've been up since 7.am this morning. All I wanted to do is back up a couple of my images, since my laptop tells me I am running out of space. However, of course, any little project always turns into some great undertaking for me. Apparently I have 22,000 images in my Picture folder. I systematically filed and named them, then dragged the first part over to a blank DVD and deleted the originals. And now the DVD doesn't want to burn. aaaaaaahrg.)
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