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."

what is life for? epiphanies at 1 a.m.

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.....

...

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.

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?

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.)

day log

I am trying to figure out where my time goes so I'm going to start keeping a log for a little while. I won't publish every one of them as to not bore you to death but here is my first one...so that you can observe with me how time is just seeping through my hands (is that English?):
7.40am
Maia wakes me up with request for TV.
I convince her to lay down with me for a few minutes.
7.50am
Maia makes me get up with justification that "the sun is out" (i.e. she has a right to be up and about).
8.00am
Nayla wakes up
8.00am-9am
make breakfast for the kids.
Nayla throws Maia's cereal on the floor.
I pick it all up and put her in the highchair to eat.
Nayla eats a bit while I warm up milk; then she flings her own cereal bowl off her tray.
I clean mess. Up-close to the floor, realize how desperately the carpet needs to see a vacuum.
pull out vacuum for a few minutes.
Nayla needs diaper change.
Maia wants more cheese cut into her cereal (yes, cheese).
On the way to kids' room to get Maia's clothes, pick up toys, clothes, books, and potential choking hazards.
I let baby loose and go brush my teeth.
Phone rings. Can I take Luca to school? No problem.
I get semi-dressed. Maia and Nayla start fighting. I go Streit-Schlichten (I'll look that term up later).
9.00am
Nayla's babysitter arrives.
I get update on Nayla's latest activities.
I finish dressing and go fix my untamable hair.
I call Maia 6 times to come brush her teeth.
I brush Nayla's teeth.
9.15
3rd attempt to make coffee.
Rosa calls and offers to bring some instead. Praise the Lord!
No time for breakfast, yet.

breathe.
9.17
Getting Maia dressed.
Helping to get Nayla dressed.
Picking up left-over milk bottles and cups from the night.
Cleaning up kids' breakfast dishes.
The dog pukes. Cleaning that up.
9.25
Pack bags.Put on coats & boots.
Call Rosa to bring Luca, who really does not want to go to school.
9.35-9.45
Trying to convince Luca to get into the carseat.
9.45-10.05
stuck in traffic with two kids teasing each other.
Luca to me: I wish that your car breaks down. That all wheels fall off.
Me: Well, you might want to be careful what you wish for...You are sitting in that car. (and then immediately thinking that that probably wasn't the most mature response).
Luca to Maia: I have a toyyy and you don't.
Maia: Moooommmy, Luca hurt my feelings.
(note: Luca is usually a nice kid...but if you know the workings of 3-year olds then you know how moody they can be. It ain't pretty.)
10.05-10.20
drop off kids. find parking. drag all bags and almost cold coffee to office.
10.25
visit main office and get update on my friend Shelly's life (mother back in hospital; problems in the relationship; etc.)
10.35
back on my desk. computer finally ready to go. Network slow as hell.
10.40
my friend Marta stops by my office. I listen to her life-updates (got into another car accident this morning). Makes me go get breakfast sandwich with her. Feel bad to say no, since whole other accident story just cost her weeks and weeks of time and aggravation (i.e. what kind of friend would I be if I had no time to listen).
10.55am-4.30pm
in front of my computer with one bathroom break.
only personal thing I get to do is to blog my photo of the day, chat for about 10 min., and to respond to about 3 or 4 private mails.
4.30
go see the boss
5.00-5.30
get lunch and listen to my friend Evi's life update (starting new job tomorrow, got married on Friday, family of 10 visiting)
5.35-6.40pm
finishing up with work (on ultra-slow annoying as hell network)
7.15pm
coming home. taking over kids. play with them. bathe them. prepare them for bed. read books. sing songs. clean up a bit (only the tip of the iceberg).
9.00pm
lights out for Maia.
I fall onto sofa and can't move much more than my finger on the TV-remote.
10.00pm
should work on website side jobs. can't find strength to get up.finally motivate myself with thoughts of cookies in kitchen. get to kitchen. face big mess. clean up a bit.
10.30pm
must sleep, I say. go brush teeth, wash face, etc. - end up energized for new activities.
decide to read. reading makes me tired. think about sex but D didn't put out yesterday so today I'll be the one not giving it up (but seriously, am just not in the mood today).
get on the computer for a few minutes. few minutes turns into an hour. here I go. let's see what tomorrow brings.
12.00am (midnight)
still not sleeping. ..and dammit, I missed the Halloween Parade in the Village.

the never-getting-done list

Yesterday (or today if you will) I stayed up working until 6 o'clock in the morning. It probably wouldn't have been that long if I hadn't been interrupted by a car crash and its entailing comical scenario in front of our building and the fact that Nayla opened her eyes around 2am without having any desire to return to sleep until about 4.30am. (maybe I'll post a picture of the car accident later. you have to see this. I'm not even sure how the guy pulled this off.)

So, this morning after getting up around 11am (5 hours of z-s) I faced another day of finding myself behind schedule on my endless list of things to-do. And it's not like these things are top priority but this is exactly the problem. That's why they never get done. I just cannot spare any precious time. For example, I have been living in this apartment for 2 years now, and I have not a single picture in any of the rooms except for the living room, which went about a year without images on the walls. And I am a photographer. Not that I hang up any of my work but naturally I am a very visually oriented person...and so I constantly add to a large collection of pictures and frames I would like to combine and hang up but never do.
Another task on my list would be that I have to back-up my laptop's hard-drive. I am running out of space and every day I am adding to the thousands of photographs I have stored there.

So, today - after Dario told me once again what piece of completely unneccessary accessory he found on ebay - I voiced my frustration...or melancholy (since frustration might indicate that I sounded angry when really I didn't).
I just said to Dario:" Damn, I don't understand how I struggle every day to find time to do the 10,000 things I am supposed to do, while you manage to find time to do absolutely nothing and spend your free time researching historical oddities, play video-games, or surf the net for ebay steals. HOW is this possible? We have the same kids. How can you do all this while you are "taking care" of the children? Maybe I just need to get up earlier.
"Yeah, you get up late...and you just don't know how to manage your time." he says.
"8.30 is not that late...I am up until 2am most days. [And about managing time - HA HA HA!! look who's talking.]" Well, I didn't actually say the latter part of this.
Anyway, he started to play the blame-game again... or maybe it's just me being defensive....but I think he gets a kick out of finding my faults. What he doesn't get is that I expose them so he can give me either helpful feedback or acknowledge the fact that I am a F/T working mother with two small children, and a shitload of responsibilities to take care of.

That's what I am really asking for. Emotional support (and here we are again. didn't I just write about that the other day?)...sigh.

the embarrassment when you fwd an e-mail hoax

I feel soo embarrassed and I can't get over it. I received an Amber Alert via e-mail the other day and usually I am VERY good about checking on any forwarded mails (i.e. I always investigate at urbanlegends.com or something the like). Unfortunately, they got me this time. It looked so real (with image of the missing girl and original message sent by parent on October 17th or something like that) I didn't even check and just forwarded to all the people in my WORK (!) e-mail address book.
Anyway, someone notified me that that alert is a hoax.
shit shit shit. so unprofessional. so embarrassing. what does one do, when they pollute other people's office-email inboxes with internet-hoaxes? send out a recall? send out an apology for one's stupidity? I don't know; and so I am left with nothing but my very long-lasting embarrassment.
AND who the hell makes up an Amber Alert anyway? What purpose does this serve? Crying Wolf....
Some people just don't have shit to do. (but seriously, I am very very curious to know as to what would motivate someone to come up with any such hoaxes.)

scary public school system in NYC

this entry is in response to two extensive comments I received on my last post. I thought, I'd put the reply to the latest comment here in order to intrigue you to go read the comments. If you have kids in New York City and haven't been familiarized with the realities of the schooling system then you'll be shocked that it seems to be worse than you've expected. If you have kids but are not from NYC then you'll be amused and probably very happy where you are at right now. If you don't have kids, then you'll just read them for the sake of staying in my loop ;) ...you gotta stay with the program here!
------------------------------------------
anyway, so now to you - anonymous blogger:
first of all, thanks for making my day, again! I must be compliment-deprived. I get so happy, it's pathetic. ;)
second, ... now I am really scared about sending my girls to public school. I can't believe the stories you are telling me. That is outrageous. This system is worse than I thought. ....
Even though Maia (the older one of my two) is only 3.5 years old, I started looking into schools with strong programs and good reputations. However, when I say looking...that's all I mean (i.e. a bit of research on the Internet, asking around, questioning some teacher-friends). I didn't know I'll be in panic mode for the next two years. ...
shoot. ...but thanks... and I'm not sure if I mean that in a grateful or "hey-I-was-blissful-with-my-ignorance" kinda way.
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-------------------------------------

shit. this is really scary. there is nothing worse I can imagine than seeing Maia's talents go to waste in a failing system...and all because I don't have $$$.
(and, of course, there is worse that I could imagine... any mother knows the masochistic terror thoughts that go through one's head...those fears about the safety and wellness of your children...I just can't turn those off....and it's worst when I have to leave her in someone else's care....without any power to protect her from harm. ..... They grow up too fast..... and I am getting into a different blog topic....and if I haven't done so to you I am beginning to annoy myself with this weird telegraphic writing style.....but it sure makes it easy to let my mind stream.....not having to think about grammar or punctuation....in other words I am a lazy ass.)

my amazing 3-year old

ok. time to brag a little.
maia, now 3.5 years old, is really developing at an amazing speed. she's always been smart but she amazes me more every day.

yesterday, I told her that we need to go to the dentist. so this morning while brushing her teeth she says:
Mom, am I going to the dentist for a check-up?
Yes, but not today. I have to make an appointment first, I said. In fact, remind me to call the dentist once I drop you off at daycare.
And doesn't the girl remind me, the moment I pull open the door to the daycare center an hour later. Mom, don't forget to call the dentist.

I mean, I know kids have good memory but heck, I'm going to take advantage of that little computer. I forgot to call the dentist about the same minute I said it. It's like my head has reached full capacity and nothing ("irrelevant") fits anymore. It's sad.
Maybe I should start taking my vitamins again. .... if I don't forget.

At the daycare center they've taken her into the Pre-K program early and yesterday her teacher told me that she can write (copy from the blackboard, I suppose) the complete date by herself and writes her letters better than all the 4 & 5 year olds in the Pre-K program.
Here a picture of her writing. I was amazed.....although, my mom says, I was able to read and write at 3, as well, so obviously this isn't a sign of any special intelligence;)



Sometimes, this perfectionism of hers also worries me a bit. I try to tell her that it doesn't matter if she colors outside of the lines. I tell her it doesn't matter if her clothes match. I tell her not to worry about what other people say. (She gets very emotional about things and apologizes for any little misstep. .... The other day, she told me that she didn't like someone because they were ugly, which, of course, shocked me at first which in turn might have made me come off a bit too intense on my "you-shall-not-judge-etc" speech. I really wasn't loud or anything. I just told her that wasn't a nice thing to say...and beauty lies within a person...etc. etc. Anyway, she started crying after like a minute and apologized.
I wasn't sure which shocked me more: her comment or her guilt once I explained the roughness of such a remark. It's like she understood the concept immediately and felt really bad about it.)

are other people having better marriages?

I read this article about public vs. private schools and this part almost made me cry. Not because of some dilemma about whether to go public or private (since I almost don't have a choice) but because of the so peripherally mentioned interaction between the author and his wife. Is this what marriage could be like or is he bullshitting? Or maybe he is just describing one of those few moments. I'm sure he's not sitting down in deep conversation with his wife every day, or is he?
[...]
We are not on a beach in France. The woman across the couch from me is not topless. I rub her feet. The boys are asleep. My wife and I toss out concerns like medicine balls.
“I’m sorry,” one of us says, “but I love the idea of smaller classes.”
“I’d like us all to see the Grand Canyon and Europe before they’re 18,” says the other.
"At private, he’ll have electives and better equipment.”
"Shouldn’t matter. The most important learning goes on outside the classroom.”
We feel like Faye Dunaway at the end of Chinatown.
[full article]

Only once would I like to sit down and have a dialogue about a subject concerning our kids in which both parties have done their research. I don't think Dario ever reads any of the articles I send him on raising kids and having a marriage. I think he just assumes, as long as I do my (our) homework we're good.

This is depressing. I need go find a cynical article about marriage now otherwise I'll stay depressed. And what is most depressing (yes, I have used the word three times now) is the fact that I'm in a relatively good phase right now.

alternate lives

I received a message on my voicemail confirming my dinner with the attorney general tonight at 7pm at some fancy place. When I returned the call to tell the woman that she had dialed the wrong number I came to think of how different my life would be if I had made different choices at certain turning points in my life. What if I had never moved to the Bronx and stayed in Manhattan like the rest of the people I knew then. What if I had stuck to my decision and had never let Dario come with me when I moved out of our crazy 9-roomate-inhabited first apartment? What if I had listened to the encouragement of my mentors and professors and gone on to Harvard as I had dreamed? What if...

So, today when I cancelled "my dinner" with the attorney general I had a moment of mourning of my lost alternate life of excitement and grandeur.;) .... It also made me think about my friend Johnny who has decided to decline his 3rd offer from Wallstreet, quit his PhD program in mathematics as well as his job with a research group of the NASA , and give away all of his belongings to become a Navy Seal and be shipped to the Middle East. As a convinced pacifist and somewhat of a democrat, I needed a couple of hours of questioning him until I finally understood his motivation. It is too deep and too complex to explain in just a few sentences but essentially he woke me up. He reminded me of all the things I don't do, have not done, but am longing to do. Play the piano, learn how to read music (something I skipped when learning the piano in highschool), reacquaint myself with the principles of math (more because of the challenge than because of any love for mathematics), be more interested, be more involved, be more more more. Of course, this is easier for him than for me. He doesn't have any kids, he already is very well read ..and last but not least, he also has an IQ up in the genius level. The only person he has to explain his sudden and complete self-involvement to is his wife...and if she loves him (which she does) she will understand and let him do his thing. He will come back.
I wouldn't know how to deal with a man like that. I wouldn't be able to deal with this whole macho tour. "Every man should know how to be a soldier." ...

Sometimes I wonder what the world would look like if it were ruled by women instead of by men. Johnny thinks it would be mayhem (of course) and wars would be even worse. I disagree with this theory. If women would be the politicians of the world there would be no or few wars. To declare war you have to be very arrogant, and self-involved. It's hard for women to be this way. Women like to communicate, compromise and they work things out. But maybe I am wrong. Maybe power is something that would corrupt any spirit...male or female. I don't know...

sex & marriage

you know, sometimes I get tired ...and I just want to tell Dario to go try find someone better because the man just doesn't know what he has in me. I might be bitching around on my blog but really I am always supportive of all his crazy plans (most of them involve months-long travels overseas), I try to understand his shortcomings as a man (yes, I have finally realized that men just function differently than women. it's just a damn fact. of course, I'm only terming it "shortcomings" cuz I'm on a little man-hatin' trip right now); I try to get him laid as often as possible, and I'd say after 10 years & 2 kids putting out every couple of days is not the norm, or is it? I am tolerant of all his little female friends and inappropriate husband-behavior, for I give him my full trust. I try to make him happy, make sacrifices often because I love him, but most of all, I don't ever want to be held responsible for a dream not followed, a life lead unhappily, or any sad circumstances one would like to blame their partner for.

Tonight, after one of our oh-so-rare date-nights (dinner & movie), I snapped and asked him if it really would be so much to ask to be a little bit more romantic sometimes instead of constantly trying to grab my boobs or my privates in public (well, not out in the open...but whenever noone can see). It really would be nice, if he would hold my hand or kiss my neck or even grab my butt ... but just don't turn everything into a freaking porn-moment. It's pissing me off. And since we were already at the subject, I told him that it would also be nice to get some foreplay sometimes. I am not a dude, man, I said, I can't just get right at it. ...and I'm sorry but after 10 years of being with the same man I need a little extra touch to get me into the mood. According to Dario I'm stuck up that way and that Puerto-Rican girls don't need any of that because they're just sexual like that. Geez, could he stereotype any more? He is living in a Reggaeton song.
So I countered: Rosa would beg to differ. And how would you know anyway? You are talking about your highschool experiences...and come'on...in HS we all were freakin' horny all the time. We had no responsibilities...nothing else to do....also, if I would get a new piece of ass I would certainly be hot in a second as well....plus, nowadays it is you who can't keep up anymore, honey. I am definitely getting to my sexual prime. Before, I could have gone without sex for ages...I really did not care much. But ever since I turned 30 my sexual appetite has increased exponentially.
Why is that? Why do women reach their sexual peak in their mid-thirties and men in their early twenties? What is the genetic point of that??

just fyi

some people might get the idea that I don't want to be a mother... and sometimes I wonder myself...but I think, only a parent will understand regrets or frustrations such as mine.
It isn't that I don't want my children. I'd rather die than not have them but sometimes I wish I had waited just a liiittle bit longer to have them. I just wasn't ready and it took me a long time to get used to my new role.
My grandmother was right....you better make sure you're done with all that you wanted to do with your life (all your passions, career, etc.) before having a child, for once you commit to being a parent your life is over and it will from there on only be about your child. (If you plan to be a good parent, that is.)

so, as not to jinx myself (for sometimes I am a bit superstitious... i.e. "be careful what you wish for") .... I thank God for my children every day.

shouldn't I enjoy parenthood more enthusiastically?

I don't know what's wrong with me. Shouldn't I enjoy the weekend with my kids...my family? Instead I am edgy (trying to hide that almost successfully) and annoyed by the fact that I can't just break out and do whatever I want to do. I really could use a trip to the fitness center right about now but there is no way I will get that time before nightfall...and I mean real night..like past 10 pm kinda thing. And that also only if I ignore the rest of the stuff that needs to be done in the house (laundry, cleaning, etc.). As I am writing this entry my 18-mo. old (Nayla) is hanging on my knee craving full attention. If I don't give her 100% of the latter she is just as cranky as I feel. Am I a bad mother? Am I just overworked and have not enough balance in my life? I don't know. The fact that I feel physically impaired (chronic f*in backpain, and strange stomach aches ever since pregnancy/childbirth) isn't helping either. ok gotta go. Nayla is now crying. sigh.

strange song requests

Maia (now 3.5 yrs old) is having strange lullaby song requests lately. I can't get away with your regular "twinkle twinkle little star" anymore. She has special requests. Before it was easy. She wanted me to sing a "milk-song" or a "cow & milk"-song.
Nowadays this is what she asks for:
Mom, can you sing me the song with the mermaid and the princess and the queen and the shark, and the shark ate them all, and they all had pointy hats on.
What worries me is that she doesn't mind if the shark doesn't spit them back out, which is how I developed the song for a few nights and then one evening just ended the story after the shark is full to see what she says. She has no complaints, so I started adding happy ends again, and even if it is more for my own peace of mind.

time management issues

i've got too much sh*t to do... here only an excerpt of the things I just never get to because my daily to-do list is too demanding (note the DUE dates;)

MTV reality shows driving me nuts

I'm in bed, sick. So, there is nothing else to do but watch TV on our miniature-sized television in the bedroom. Somehow, I ended up watching MTV, which really I despise lately, for it has nothing to do with music anymore. Moreover, I remember how MTV used to make me feel fat and ugly and it still has that effect. This channel is like a bad drug addiction.

However, today, there was a new addition to my fluctuating MTV feelings. A concern that I never had to deal with before. A thought that sprang to mind while shaking my head at these ridiculously superficial and spoiled brats in "Run's House" and "Laguna Beach". Maia will grow up watching shows like these and in school she will be surrounded by girls who want to be cheerleaders, and pretty for the boys, and ditzy and....aaaaaarhgh.

There was one show I managed to watch: "Made" ... it's about these average, possibly a bit introverted kids who would like to become popular. The episode I saw today, was about this girl who wanted to become a cheerleader. Even though I rooted for her success, I was really disappointed that I never heard one of her parents tell her what the hell she's doing trying to be someone she is not. ...And not someone better. Just someone more popular. It was sad, in a way.
But I remember how it was being a teenager....I know one doesn't care. You just want to be like everyone else tells you to be. Thin, beautiful, popular. However, here in the States this is a whooole different ballgame. It's devastating for anyone who isn't in the in-crowd, whereas in Austria (or at least, where I grew up) it really didn't matter that much.

Watching 5 minutes of "Run's House", however, was all I could take. This is a reality show about Rev. Run from Run DMC and his family. I tuned in when Run's teenage daughter asks him to plan a party. She already has hired some party-planner who is doing the walk-through and unsuspecting Run has to listen to his daughter telling him (seriously) that -FOR THE PARTY ONLY- she wants the pool turned into a dancefloor (i.e. to be covered with glass) which will cost about 10,000 dollars. Then she talks about fireworks, which the party-planner estimates could cost anywhere between $15,000 up to $100,000. Then I have to watch the wife supporting this insane party plan. "Yeah, it could be like when Puffy had these fireworks at his house and they spelled this name. That was really cool." Finally Run cracks and says...no, no that's too crazy. You can have a party around the pool, we'll put up a grill and you can have 50-60 kids over max. A few minutes later they get the daughter crying in her room talking about how she doesn't want her father to think she's spoiled or anything [HA HA HA]...but 50 kids is not that much. What is she gonna tell people when they ask her if they could come?
OH MY GOD! .... I was in shock. And the girl couldn't have been older than 13.

Laguna Beach I couldn't take more than 5 minutes. Those kids annoyed me with their boring little conversations "oh my god, he was like...and I was like...and he was like..." ..."oh and I'm not going to this party...and she's such a bitch... and oh, this necklace looks great on you."

ok. I've had my share of afternoon TV. I'm out.
laterz.

wifely duties anno 1955 - OHMYGOD

here an article sent to me (and Rosa) by my husband. I found it funny and jaw-dropping but Rosa had a hard time taking it as a joke and is still mad at Dario. ;)

-------------------------------------------------------------original message
An article published in "Housekeeping Monthly" in 1955. It is a measure of how things have changed since then. While it may make the male readers laugh, it will probably enrage the female readers!
1. Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favorite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.
2. Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just beenwith a lot of work-weary people.
3. Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.
4. Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives.
5. Gather up schoolbooks, toys, paper, etc. and then run a dust cloth over the tables.
6. Over the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.
7. Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.
8. Be happy to see him.
9. Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.
10. Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation aremore important than yours.
11. Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.
12. Your goal: try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order and tranquility where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit.
13. Don't greet him with complaints and problems.
14. Don't complain if he's late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day.
15. Make him comfortable. Make him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.
16. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.
17. Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.
18. A good wife always knows her place.
------------------------------------
Rosa's reply:
You would have been okay if you hadn't written read and learn as the subject to this memo. The fictious "men" they are talking about supposedly went to a real job and worked their asses off [to pay for all the wife wished for]. I'm sure you would not like the part you would have to play in order to get us to do what struck you as a wonderful thing when you read this article.

turning 31

Now I am definitely "30-something" and I better get used to it. Of course, I could start telling people I am 28 and just stick with that story until they just don't believe me anymore.

The day was rather uneventful. I worked a bit, got a couple of BD-calls and mails, and left early to go see a movie with my friend Rosa. The movie didn't catch me (Nick Park's new Wallace & Gromit story), so we left early to go to Target. It's pathetic. I must really be getting old if "Wallace & Gromit" don't do it for me anymore. What is wrong with me? ...Maybe it's the fact that my dentist just put me on Valium to deal with some irritated nerve and extreme muscle-tensions. Even though I take the V only at night instead of the prescribed 3x/day dosage, I think I've had a bit of apathy as a side-effect. Other than that it didn't hold up to the stigma I had attached to this drug. It took me like a week to even get the prescription, for I just didn't want to be a woman who takes Valium (no matter if it's only for a month). The fact that I finally did get it proves how much I have americanized. It worked miracles on my chronically hurting back, though, and I am sleeping like a rock. I don't know if the baby incidentally has begun sleeping through the night or if I really just don't hear her anymore. Either way, I am very comfortable with the amount of rest I am currently getting. So maybe, it's not the Valium that's making me calmer during the day....maybe it's just the fact that I have more sleep and stress less.

Anyway, to recall the rest of the day ..... when I got home from Target (having spent money I do not have for things we do not need -> amongst other things a 100-piece puzzle for Maia, which she is finishing right now), Rosa & co. came down with two cakes happily singing the birthday song.
"Make a wish!" they said and I instinctively wished not to get any older. Only after having blown out the candles I realized that I had just wished for my own death. Thus, I am sharing my birthday wish with as many people as possible, so that it won't come true.

One last note on the day and on Maia's possibly clairvoyant abilities:
When I came home from shopping, Maia came to me and said..."Mommy, can I have some of the chocolate cake with the flower on it and your name on it?"
In a way she gave away the fact that there was a birthday cake for me...so I went to check the fridge. Nothing was to be found. When I asked Rosa later, if Maia had seen the cake (which was chocolate with a flower and my name on it), she said that Maia had definitely not seen the cake. It was bought this afternoon and sat then tied up in a box upstairs until the moment they came downstairs with it singing.

Maia gets sarcastic

So now that she's 3.5 years old it's time for another chapter in Maia's sometimes too fast advancing development.
Little example. Tonight. Maia is walking around with big pink bunny ears.
Dario: I see a monkey. I see a monkey.
Maia: Does this look like a monkey costume to you? Hm? (and then slow as to make it easier to grasp for him) I am wearing BUNNY ears!!
here a picture of maia w/ "her" ears.
http://newyork.blogphotography.com/archives/2888_1280467555/95140

I can't hurt a fly ... but a roach is gonna get it

Before I moved to NYC (the potential capital of the cockroach world) I couldn't kill any animals, at all. Well, except for the mosquito but that I justified with the fact that I was acting in "self-defense".
When I moved to New York I thus saw myself in a little situation called pest infestation. The mice (in my first apartment) weren't allowed to be killed by gruesome glue-traps, or the old-fashioned snappy thing. So Dario got a "humane" trap, which threw the mouse into another locked compartment with air-holes. Unfortunately, the mice would come back after Dario would throw them out the window (which, by the way, didn't seem to bother them even though we were up in the 3rd floor). The reason we could identify them as the same mice is because Dario began tagging them with white-out [for my non-American friends: that's Tipex]. The fact that I was feeding them during their entrapment probably wasn't helping.
One day, we caught eleven mice ...and that was the day I decided to get a cat. It worked within a week. The mice were gone.
The roaches, however, stayed. And even though we are now in a mice-free apartment we never got rid of the roaches. No matter where we lived.
I don't know when it happened but I have now put those darn roaches on my black-list with the only other animal I'd kill (the mosquito). I always apologize, for I still feel bad since my motive isn't really any of "survival".

I always wonder about the intelligence of these animals. They know exactly when they're safe or in danger. They seize you up more like mammals than insects. ...(wait, is a roach an insect? yeah, it's in the beetle family, right?) They stretch their little antennas at you to see what you're going to do next and they play this little daredevil game with you. They're propably well aware that it's really hard to kill them. They can withstand unbelievable amounts of household spray, and if you hit them with anything that's not exactly flat, chances are they'll live. And if you've ever swept up a roach you thought was dead you might have encountered their sudden body-bounciness. It's scary.