what i woke up to this morning (straight from my head onto paper it went)

It is the last free day before school starts again and I will be returned to a forced schedule of daily 6 a.m. risings. I lay in bed with my eyes refusing to open, ignoring the commando of yesterday's self, which set an alarm for a reasonable hour as to slowly adjust to the harsh reality of the upcoming schedule change.

Over are the 3 a.m. bedtimes of winter vacation. No more sleeping til noon just cuz I can. Good bye, sufficient hours of sleep. Welcome back, rings under my eyes.

I am holding on to this last morning of leisure like a small child attached to its mother's leg, attempting to stop her inevitable departure into the work day.

Dreams and reality exchange secret, complicated hand shakes as I drift in and out of sleep. In my head, I create brilliant story snippets and paragraphs, which turn out to be utter nonsense when briefly examined during intermittent, awake moments. Turtle-esque, I retract my head back into the protection of my covers, escaping too much light and too much world.

At last, one of the children appears at my bedside.
- "Weren't you gonna get up early?"
- "Go away!" I moan melodramatically.

Fine. I capitulate. Sleep has lost. My dreams now only surreal memories, I reluctantly unravel myself from the sheets to seize the day (or, let's start with a humble bathroom visit first and leave the "seizing" for a bit later.)

dreaming small for the new year

Last New Year's Eve I spent alone at home, convincing myself that I don't need no-stinkin'-body to have a good time. Well, .. while that may be true for almost every other day or night of the year, on NYE, it's just a pathetic statement which is clearly based on self-delusion. So, this year, I made sure to invite a crazy amount of people to my place to ring in 2017 with the proper amount of rowdiness and noise. I paid for that decision with hours of preparation, a deep reach into my pocket, and even more hours of clean up, but it was worth it.

Anyway .. that's not why I'm here.
I wanted to write down some goals, for one thing I have heard over and over again in the past few years of listening to interviews with successful entrepreneurs and visionaries, it is that one must write down or somehow visualize their goals and dreams.

I am experiencing some problems with this concept. It's not that I don't believe in the effectiveness of this exercise. I do! In fact, on occasion, I have found it work for myself, if I'm clear and directed enough. And this is exactly where my issue lies. It's that I am pretty content where I am right now. Am I too modest with my dreams? None of the things I really need are of material value and I have most of them. Health, a warm and happy home with two lovely children; my apartment isn't fancy, but it's got a pretty view and the sun illuminates everything from morning to evening; I have had true love in my life and now I'm at a point at which I absolutely love being solo (no dating frustrations, no relationship issues ... just real freedom). My kids are in good schools and I don't work for anyone (i.e. no drama there either).
As far as I'm concerned, I'm good. Thank you, God! And thanks for giving me a break. Because 2013 into 2015 were pretty rough.

But, I know, without the willingness to change, nothing will change. That sounds like a pretty dumb statement. ... What I mean is that ... progress is only possible through the agent of change and to fulfill one's potential, one should always dream big. So -- I've decided, I'm going to try to dream bigger this year.

I did write a list of these "big" dreams in my daily journal, but when I sat down to meditate on this first day of the year, I found myself praying for completely different things.
Instead of asking for financial success and career fulfillment, I found myself in prayer for help.
Help to ....

• keep my mind clean and uncorrupted from the influences of mass media and the masses, in general
• continue to remember what is really important in life (not materialistic things, but health, love, family, inner peace, time with friends, intellectual stimulation, connection with the divine, as well as our true selves.)
• be not only generous but enthusiastically generous
• serve my purpose on this planet
• help others in need (hopefully via one of my callings)
• stay healthy
• be kind, always.
• forgive, truly.
• keep track of my priorities (children before everything else.)

Then I also found myself begging for the impossible. Peace on earth. Peace on earth. Chanting it like a mantra until I realized this may be impossible (like asking for a law of physics to change). A better thing to ask for, I decided mid-inner-chant, would be that all those who do have to suffer through darkness (war, loss, grief, or sickness) be given a little light in their days, despite their dire realities. Lord knows, such moments were what got me through my times of rock-bottom.

So much for my "big" dreams.  ...

gilmore girls spoiler causes injury to helpless mom

I've tried to refrain from binge-watching the recently released Gilmore Girls sequel episodes. I wanted to savor them. Watch one episode per week, so I could delay the withdrawal symptoms I surely would suffer from, once I was done with them all. Unfortunately, I live with another Gilmore Girls fanatic. One of my own creation, no less: my younger daughter Nini, who is now 12 years old.

The moment the new episodes were released, this kid proceeded to watch all four seasons over the course of two days (each season captured in a movie-length episode). From the moment she began her full-immersion experience, she needed to comment and gasp at every scene change it seemed. Needless to say, there was a lot of yelling on my part, ordering her from the other room to keep her reactions to herself! Not only was she not able to follow this order, she also felt the great need to more effectively share her excitement by running over to me so she could hint at what was happening on the screen. Since my ear-covering and humming loudly to drown her out wasn't effective as more than an interim solution, I had to escalate the situation to physical removal of said disobedient child. And while she found my shoving and pushing funny, I got actually hit in the face by a door edge in the process. A door I was trying to close on this little Gilmore Girls spoiler.

The problem is that I seem to be the only one who has been trying to savor the new episodes while everyone else has watched them like Nini did (i.e. immediately and all at once) and is already talking about them everywhere. So, I had to catch up and get with the program and am now almost finished with the last of the four episodes.

As I was watching the very first few minutes of "Winter" (the episodes are named after the four seasons), I was so excited. I don't recall being this excited about anything since childhood. It's ridiculous. And like with anything you're super excited about, there is always a let down, for the higher your expectations, the deeper the fall.

First of all, I really do enjoy seeing everyone again. It's like you get a piece of your past back. It feels a little bit like time traveling. So many things have stayed the same and I love it because I truly dislike change, an inevitable constant in everyone's lives. Following the camera as it pans over this familiar set, showing us characters we've met a decade ago, brings nostalgia and a sense of security, as well as contentment that all is right with this world.

Alas, things have changed. Rory's character has changed completely. She is now drinking hard liquor in the day time, lacks journalistic integrity or professionalism, and is having an affair with her ex who is practically married. Soap opera kind of material. It's like the writers were trying so hard to make her character of modern times, it became a bit cliché. We loved Rory because she was so golden and rare. A girl with principles, not without faults, of course .. but, generally, a good person with integrity and a strong moral compass. Someone we could admire.

Overall, the plot and dialogue isn't as strong as it was in the originals, but it has its moments. And, just like when I saw Twilight (which was awful and beautiful at the same time), I have too much love for the Gilmore Girls characters not to finish watching.

is it wrong to combine smoke breaks with mediation?

I live by a fairly busy street and have grown used to the noise of passing cars, so it is particularly strange when it suddenly becomes completely silent outside because of an unpredictable traffic hole. I love this phenomena. I usually pause everything I'm doing, for the moment almost begs for attention. I was just presented with one of these rare moments. An opportunity to pause and listen to what remains - the birds, the sound of the wind in the treetops. A micro-meditation.

I've become accustomed to such mini-meditations, for I have decided a while back that I will settle for whatever brief pocket of time I can find in order to rebalance myself. Yesterday was so busy (although, I can't remember anything I did) that I combined my mini meditation with a cigarette on the fire escape. Is it wrong to combine Om-chants with smoking breaks?
I can't stand pan-flute music, but apparently it's a very hip instrument in the meditation music genre. So, I was very happy when I finally found this very basic Om-chant online.

I first learned about the ataractic physical sensation brought on by chanting when I was forced to go to a yoga class by one of my friends. She was actually teaching the class, so I had to be there for support. I used to despise yoga and thus it was a true friendship service for me to attend, particularly challenging in nature, for she included candle lighting by a picture of some guru and then - oh God - the chanting. However, I have to admit, to my great surprise, when I dutifully (and supportively) chanted along with the room, something happened. The vibrations of everyone humming together were incredibly realxing and left me liberated from the tension I had carried in my shoulders as well as, once again, reminding of the rewarding possibilities of opening up one's horizons.

Nowadays, I try to recreate this feeling of chant-vibration-induced serenity by sitting in front of a base-heavy speaker playing similar Om chants I find on Spotify. It's subpar to the real thing, sitting in a room full of people chanting together in unison, but it's like my micro-meditations: it'll do. it'll do.

making sense of things (and not)

I usually just write my own stuff (with a quote here and there), but this piece in New York Magazine really struck a chord with me and since nobody seems to have the attention span to read a long article anymore, I've pulled a few paragraphs to summarize Mr. Sullivan's point (or at least, my perceived point of the article):

"American democracy has been able to thrive with unprecedented stability over the last couple of centuries even as it has brought more and more people into its embrace. It remains, in my view, a miracle of constitutional craftsmanship and cultural resilience. There is no place I would rather live. But it is not immortal, nor should we assume it is immune to the forces that have endangered democracy so many times in human history." [...]

"In Eric Hoffer’s classic 1951 tract, 'The True Believer', he sketches the dynamics of a genuine mass movement. He was thinking of the upheavals in Europe in the first half of the century, but the book remains sobering, especially now. Hoffer’s core insight was to locate the source of all truly mass movements in a collective sense of acute frustration. Not despair, or revolt, or resignation — but frustration simmering with rage. Mass movements, he notes (as did Tocqueville centuries before him), rarely arise when oppression or misery is at its worst (say, 2009); they tend to appear when the worst is behind us but the future seems not so much better (say, 2016). It is when a recovery finally gathers speed and some improvement is tangible but not yet widespread that the anger begins to rise." [...]
"But the most powerful engine for such a [mass] movement — the thing that gets it off the ground, shapes and solidifies and entrenches it — is always the evocation of hatred. [...] And what makes Trump uniquely dangerous in the history of American politics [...] is his response to all [...] enemies. It’s the threat of blunt coercion and dominance.

And so after demonizing most undocumented Mexican immigrants, he then vowed to round up and deport all 11 million of them by force. “They have to go” was the typically blunt phrase he used — and somehow people didn’t immediately recognize the monstrous historical echoes. The sheer scale of the police and military operation that this policy would entail boggles the mind. [...]

[Trump's] movement is clearly fascistic in its demonization of foreigners, its hyping of a threat by a domestic minority (Muslims and Mexicans are the new Jews), its focus on a single supreme leader of what can only be called a cult, and its deep belief in violence and coercion in a democracy that has heretofore relied on debate and persuasion."
____

It's an older article but the analysis is still (tragically) on point...

http://nymag.com/daily/intelligencer/2016/04/america-tyranny-donald-trump.html

on gratitude

Every morning, I sit down to write a bullet list of things I am grateful for, a good practice I heard about on Tim Ferriss's podcast a while back. It's hard for me to be grateful in the mornings. I'm not very happy (i.e. grateful) to be awake, nor am I particularly articulate. In fact, my children know not to tick me off in the mornings, for I am an animal of instinct when I've just woken up. This usually very composed and restrained mama will become a force to be reckoned with if poked in the early hours of the day. There is cursing, needless aggression over Nutella depletion or teenage clothing choices, there are non-sensical accusations and things are said that would never come out of my mouth at any other time of the day. So, at this point, I have trained my children well to keep things calm in the morning and not agitate me, for I will regress into something, which nobody in the house wants to deal with (including me).

But - other than my state of morning madness, I am pretty much grateful all the time. For everything. Okay, maybe not everything. But, a lot. I am so incredibly grateful so often during the day that I feel it is, perhaps, built in. Is gratitude part of human nature? Or is it nurture? So many people seem to not be grateful or appreciative at all. Or maybe, I just don't know that they are. Or could it be that they are, but just for the wrong reasons? Can there even be such a thing as a wrong reason for gratitude? Do dictators, ISIS members, and other atrocious members of our world experience gratitude? And, if yes, what for? Does it still qualify as wholesome gratitude if the appreciation is for something awful or selfish? Then again, isn't all gratitude due to some sense of selfishness? We are grateful because something is good for us. Although, we do experience gratefulness on behalf of people we care about, right? Question is, is that a true altruistic sentiment or is it also based in the "selfish" interest of making oneself feel good?

school dress codes: a form of slut-shaming?

After reading this (and watching all the embedded videos) ...
http://www.dailykos.com/story/2016/10/23/1578415/-Damn-those-dress-codes-Young-feminists-are-taking-a-stand

.... I had to take a moment to comment:

I have several things to say here…. as a female, a feminist, and mother of two teenage girls.

1.) A dress code isn’t teaching boys that it is okay to harass women/girls if they’re showing skin. Their upbringing, their character, and the company they keep will nurture or shun such Neanderthal behavior .. which brings me to point number 2...

2.) The last video snippet mentions, dress codes are *teaching* boys that they are “biologically programmed” to objectify women. No offense, but aren’t they (the great majority, anyway)? … They are biologically programmed to spread their seed. #facts

3.) I don’t understand in which way teaching girls how to dress more modestly (and with more awareness) is slut shaming. But honestly, I’m still not completely sure what slut shaming *really* is. Schools' clothing policies are just an attempt to reverse a different type of dress code. One that seems to be deeply embedded in most teens of today’s society: the hyper-sexual dress code imposed on our girls by the media, only that they seem to be so “brain-washed”, they don’t even know they are adhering to a code.
I can’t tell you the drama that goes on in my house about clothing choices every morning. Why? Why?! You are going to school. Throw on some jeans and a T-shirt. Done. It’s not a fashion show. You’re going there to learn...which brings me to point number 4....

4.) There are some disturbing comments being made by school administrators in these videos. ("Not all behinds look cute in leggings" .. ?!! Ehm, what?!) …. Not only are such comments distorting the message, but they are also insulting, thus creating a rebellious response.
This shouldn’t be about rebellion — it should be about education. The problem is that schools are trying to undo damage that has already been done. .. Or, let’s say “change” instead of “damage”, only that I still have to be convinced it’s the former and not the latter. I’m not a total prude, I swear, but I have lived long enough on this planet to know that it is NOT just a saying that “boys will be boys” … it’s a fact. And, if these boys/men have learned how to behave themselves, which many of them have, they’re still thinking things…. and this brings me to my last point…

5.) I would like to see some interviews with boys and men about the subject matter. All we are hearing here (in the videos) are girls’ opinions. Us wishing that most men are not driven by sexuality, is naive. They simply are. Most of them, anyway. Which is why women’s bodies sell products so well. Which is why female models, on average, make 70% more than male models. .. It’s sad, but it’s a fact. … And, ultimately, that fact should make you, as a female, want to cover up, for such an act will be truly rebellious, make your body yours (and I don't mean burka-style, obviously). Divert the attention to what should matter only — your intellect, your talents, your character. … But… yea, okay .. that’s wishful thinking, too. That’s never going to happen. People are entirely too superficial to not care about appearances. (big sigh)


PS: In the meantime, I am trying to package this message in a way that doesn’t result in me slut-shaming my daughters, who are vehemently supporting the ideas outlined in the above linked article. In the end, all I want is children that think critically, walk with self-awareness as well as self-respect, and who understand the basic workings of this world. I also want them to have the courage to change what they see as wrong and take a stand about the things they're passionate about. However, I’m not sure if this here is a misguided fight...What should be our/their target is the media and how it portrays (and dresses) women and girls.

perspective ...

I got a $138 ticket for rolling through a stop sign WHILE looking straight at the cops parked on the corner. Apparently, I was too "high" on my 250mg of acetaminophen to react to the situation appropriately (‪#‎painmedsLightweight‬). Getting caught violating the traffic rules, is usually something that makes me angry. I know, it makes no sense, since it's my own fault, but sometimes we just don't make sense.

As the officers were writing me my fine, I sat waiting and listening to NPR and then simply became too sad to continue to be upset about this ticket. The story on the radio featured a refugee woman who watched the love of her life and a hundred other people drown after their boat was forcibly capsized. She also was given a toddler to join her on the flimsy little swim ring she was clinging on to and then had to watch as the child's mother drowned in front of her.

This just really put things into perspective and made it impossible for me to be aggravated by this traffic fine. In fact, it made me feel guilty to even have entertained the thought of feeding into my mundane aggravation. I had to hold back my tears about the story so the officers wouldn't think I'm crying about this stupid ticket, and I'm sad to admit, there have been days I have cried over something as ridiculous as a traffic fine.

Every day, I am grateful that we don't live in a war zone and don't have to know the unimaginable suffering so many people in this world today have to know. Every day, when I speak this gratitude I also ask and wish that the people in these terrible situations are given moments of strength, light, and hope.

a true revelation

I have been struggling with a certain inability to get over someone I should not even be having to "get over." It is a guy who is 10 years younger than I, a total playboy (or f***boy as they call them nowadays), someone who drinks and smokes too much, someone I would have never thought I could fall for. And, I probably didn't, ..... but it feels like it.
And here is what I mean by that.

Let's call this (29-yr-old) boy Tiburon. The Spanish word for shark, which is what they call him out there, as he is known for his womanizing ways. I chose to hang out with T deliberately for these reasons. I didn't want a relationship or anything serious.  In the beginning of last year I had attempted to have one of those and failed miserably, for I was simply still grieving over J, who I lost in 2013.

T was perfect. He was honest, funny, and charming. And he danced with a special kick in his step.
In the summer, I took a break from him, because I noticed that I began to get emotionally involved despite the fact that we were in a completely open arrangement. I'm one of those people who runs away when they feel vulnerable (i.e. develop feelings for someone).
T stayed away but kept reaching out for months asking to get together. I finally gave in on my birthday. I was alone and thought, foolishly, that I could keep it at coffee and would be able to resist him otherwise. From that day on (back in October), he came over almost every single day. It was beautiful. We never fought - because we weren't in a relationship and made no claims over one another. It was nothing but positivity and carefree evenings together, followed by nights in each other's embrace.
There were a few strange elements - for example, Mr. Player who used to come over for nothing but sex in the beginning suddenly didn't want to have any at all for long stretches of time. He also used to kiss much more than he then did when we saw each other daily. But, somehow, our intimacy still grew stronger despite this lack of physical action.

By the end of the year - around Christmas - he had an emotional breakdown. And, I don't mean that in the traditional sense of the word. I mean, this boy, who never let me in emotionally (i.e. we never talked about us ... and especially not about what he was feeling), suddenly opened up to me big time. It could all have been the liquor talking. Or the smoke or whatever. But, what he said, he told me while holding both my hands with tears streaming down his face. He said that I was perfect, that he didn't deserve me, that he can't give me what I want (he may have come to the conclusion that I want a baby - my fault), but that he can't even go with other girls anymore because he feels guilty. Now, if that isn't honesty then I don't understand this world. But, the things he did say to me were later identified as three red flags in identifying a man who is about to run. (I have learned this because I spent weeks watching dating advice videos after we split - trying to [a] understand what just happened and [b] get the F over this pain I felt over the loss of a relationship that wasn't even officially a relationship!

Anyway, so - naturally, the baring of his innermost thoughts suddenly created feelings on my end. Or, should we say, revealed them, for I was not aware that I felt this way, at all. Two days later, my jealousy had become so intense that I told him this isn't working and cut myself out of the equation. Because, here I was, falling for a total player. Danger! Danger! So, I ran because I was afraid of getting hurt down the road. What I did instead, of course, was hurt myself (and maybe him?) prematurely and I totally didn't anticipate how badly it would affect me. How could I be this emotionally touched by someone who barely wanted to sleep with me?

T obeyed my wishes without a fight. A fight, I wish maybe he would have taken up. But, I guess, the lack thereof should be a testament on its own about the true depth of his feelings for me. Maybe he was just not that into me and whatever he said, he said because he wasn't sober.

But - whatever it may be - the separation was an agonizing struggle for me. To make matters worse, he had another chick in like a minute, something he didn't feel the need to be discreet about as he posted picture after picture of her on his social media feeds, which brings me to the conclusion that this may be more than just one of his many alternatingly used girls. I still see them together. Looks like he may actually like this one more than anyone else. Or, maybe he saw what a nice relationship could be when we were together and finally opened himself up to the real thing again. That thought feels better on the ego, so I'll go with that. Alas, it doesn't make the sadness any less intense.

What did take away some of my melancholy and obsession about this (or maybe not, since I am now writing about it) was a nearly spiritual experience I had last Friday. And this is why I am actually here. To document this strange revelation.

So ... this whole past week had been a struggle. More so than usual did I obsess about T, and then, simultaneously, spent time upset with myself that I was still m-f-in' thinking about him. It made NO sense! Why? He clearly had moved on. He clearly was never into me. We clearly had no future (for I have no interest in being with a self-involved player and yet another man who doesn't know he has a substance abuse problem.)
By Friday, after working until 1 a.m., until I literally couldn't look at the computer anymore, I stood there in my office room frustrated that I went right back from work focus to being sad about T. I ordered myself to stop thinking and decided to just relax, listen to music, and smoke (by myself, which is something I never really do but I didn't want to talk any of my friends' ear off  about T for yet another evening). As I sat there, the music's beat synchronizing to my heart, looking out the window, I noticed from the corner of my eye that a picture of my kids had fallen over on the shelf over my desk. I decided to get up and fix it and when I did, I noticed, that it had revealed my copy of the Qu'ran standing on the shelf. It was a copy that my ex-husband had brought into the house more than a decade ago and I had never actually opened it. I was raised Muslim, but I'm just not a religious person anymore. I believe in God (in an abstract way) and even in guardian angels (and that is a whole other story), but I don't really want to have anything to do with organized religion anymore. I believe it has its benefits but, I feel, mostly, it divides people when it should bring everyone together. ... Anyway ... this experience, even though it was religious .. ironically .. did bring all my friends of different beliefs together.. but let me not jump ahead of myself.

So - there it was ... this old, heavy translation of the Qu'ran. "This seems like a message", I thought to myself as I looked at all the other propped pictures on the shelf standing right were they were before. I dismissed it and returned to my futon to sit down. "Yea, but I don't want to read any heavy religious texts right now. ... I don't want to run into anything sexist that's gonna upset me .. I just don't want to ruin my high here." ... S! You listen when you're being spoken to. ... "Yea, but, I have my period anyway, and I'm not supposed to touch the Qu'ran on my period." (Something that I had learned when I was a kid and that kind of stuck. Like the not eating pork thing. Not religious anymore, just ingrained behavior.) ... -- Lame excuse. .. But, anyway, ... in case you haven't noticed ... you may be on your period - BUT - you have not bled ONE drop today all day. ... so, what is your excuse now?
I decided to end my inner soliloquy, for I began to feel guilty, and got back up to retrieve the book from the shelf. I sat down and opened it to a random page, starting to read in the middle of the page, and - I kid you not - this is what it said:

A direct response to my agony over how this didn't make sense but then again, maybe I had really fallen for him?! I was about to completely lose my way when this kinda set me straight.

T is not real love. It is all about self-indulgence. It is all about me, not him.
T managed to bring light into my life and make me forget, for just a moment, that there is a giant void left by J's death. T brought light-heartedness and hope back to me. He wasn't meant to stay and me now finding myself convinced that I must love him because I can't get over him, is a false conclusion.

I shared this passage with a few girlfriends and each one of them was able to relate to it in a different way as it applied to their situation, which made me think about how beautiful (but also dangerous then) it is what one can do with religious texts. Beautiful because it can be so versatile in its interpretation as to fit many different situations in life; dangerous because we all know what people throughout history have done with religious texts (interpreting them to their advantage). Let me not get started on this, because just the thought of this makes me upset. Extremist groups in the Middle East being some of the worst examples for this abuse of a guidance book that is meant to help people live better lives. And all in order to serve their own selfish desires. Ok, must stop now before I start an unrelated rant.

fixed vs. growth mindset

Listened to a podcast the other day about the science of success. It's the name of the podcast, actually.
This particular episode was about the significance of our mindset regarding our general success in life. Matt Bodnar, the host, referred to a book called "Mindset" when he described a so-called "fixed" and "growth" mindset.

A fixed mindset type of person is someone who tends to internalize criticism or poor performance as a reflection of their own failure, as opposed to a growth-mindset type of person, who looks for challenges, and considers criticism or poor performance as opportunities for improvement and growth.

This reminded me of Neil DeGrasse Tyson's visit on NPR's show "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me", during which he managed to answer every obscure question they asked incorrectly. When the host asked him if he feels bummed, being the smartest man alive and all, Tyson's answer was quite beautiful. "No," he said in a chipper tone,"in fact, I'm happy I didn't get any of the questions right because this means, I learned three new things today!"

just checking in for no reason

I want to write. I put it in my journal every day.

"Things that would make today great:

• write "

"Daily affirmation:

• I will write"

Random rambling section of journal:

• "Come ON. Just write something. Even if it is just 20 minutes of incoherent babble. It'll get you started."

So, here I am now. Writing. I guess. 

But, what I was ACTUALLY doing was business-related and now I am, once again, completely off on an unrelated tangent. So much for the efficacy of my Momentum browser plug-in. Momentum is a great productivity/focus tool, unless you're driven to work around your own tricks and frame-works, as I am.
Momentum is a browser plug-in I heard about on Tim Ferriss's (Ferriss'?) podcast, which btw. I love and can't recommend enough [recent favorites: Scott Adams and Seth Godin interviews]. Anyway .. Momentum - clearly a plug-in I desperately needed - it worked well for a while but, now, I find myself trying to cheat. What this add-on does, is that it redirects you to your daily focus every time you try to open a new tab. When you first open your browser, the plug-in presents you with a beautiful picture and asks you what your main task is for the day. I usually squeeze in at least four or five unrealistic productivity goals onto that _one_ line, but hey, ambition shouldn't be a bad thing. (I choose to call it ambition, when it probably is just a lack of prioritizing skills). Anyway ... this function already fails due to the fact that I never close a browser until it crashes on me. So, I can circumvent the "open a new tab" action, at least 90% of the time by reusing tabs that are already open.

So - where was I going with this? .. Yes, .. you should try it. It is still one of the best plug-ins ever invented: https://momentumdash.com

And now, I'm going back to what I was procrastinating about ...

wishing to be sick is stupid

Everytime I make the mistake of telling someone how I haven't been sick in so long, I become ill the next day. This pattern has been so reliable that, when I was tempted to utter the dooming words to a friend, I stopped myself, mentioning the above jinx, and then shut up. Alas, the damage was done.

Maybe it's that I just know when I'm getting sick and then I think about it until - by law of attraction - I make it come true. It's the altered mind state of sickness, the excuse to sleep during the day, watch movies, and read without time limits that gets me to "fantasize" about it. Of course, reality always looks different. Once the aching body and stuffy nose have arrived, I am reminded that I cannot afford to be out of commission, for the chores and duties of motherhood haven't gone out sick together with me and there is no "other half" to pick up the slack. There is homework to be helped with, children to be chauffeured around, dinner to be prepared, and unusually large and messy spills to be dealt with (because those only happen when you either have no time for it and are on your way out the door or are at the brink of collapse from exhaustion).

i changed my mind

We had a really nice and relaxed summer. Hanging out with the kids has been pretty nice, for they are now old enough that you can actually have real conversations with them, and - more importantly - ignore them without any hurt feelings, doing your own thing while they do theirs. This lull and realization that they're growing up has brought me to the romantic thought of wanting another baby. Never mind the fact that there is no man present to reproduce with, let alone raise a child with. Or the fact that I hated being pregnant and taking care of babies and toddlers is more work than one can ever have. But anyway, I changed my mind real quick after the first week of classes.

***

The beginning of the school year came down on me with all its anticipated but still underestimated weight causing desperately stressed outbursts toward my kids as well as - semi-silently hissed under breath - short cursing episodes toward uncollaborative good-for-nothing computer and underperforming self. (uncollaborative - apparently not a word.)

Today, I should have had the afternoon to continue work, which I should have done more of in the morning. Instead, I spent it trying to guide my 10-year-old through a tribute poster on 911. Since the kid wasn't even born during the tragedy of September 11, it is difficult to get her to understand the gravity of this day without showing her horrifying footage of planes crashing into buildings and people jumping off them, which I refuse to do. In fact, I myself have avoided any and all 9/11 images since 9/11. I didn't see the point. All it did was make me cry and shift me into some sort of PTSD state. I remember exactly what happened and, I suppose, these awful memories will never go away.

On to a lighter topic.

.. nope.. I don't have anything light to talk about tonight. I'm frustrated... which is why I am writing.

where have i been? life update in 8 paragraphs.

2007-2014

Since I am returning to this blog, I guess, a quick update of the past 7 years is in order.
D and I divorced. The year that followed was the most difficult of my life, or so I thought.
I expected that we were going to be together forever but after three years of trying to save our marriage (without much of his participation or interest), I finally called it quits.

Entirely too soon after my separation from D, I got together with J, which - never in my life - thought would have been a plausible possibility. His marriage of 14 years also had ended and after a year and a half of not speaking, he looked me up, catching me right at the tail end of my separation from D, which allowed for an emotional openness I wouldn't have allowed myself during my marriage.

And so I fell for this troubled man. Fell deeply and madly.
This relationship has a blog of its own I don't want to share but to put it into a few words ...
     I learned a thing or two about unconditional love. He brought me to hell and back but we survived .. or, actually, he didn't. .. Just when I thought we had made it and were heading toward normalcy, after more than 6 years of on and off struggle, he died suddenly at the age of 36. Heart failure, says the medical examiner, claiming the drugs and liquor of his relapse had nothing to do with his death.
J couldn't help it. He was bipolar and he ultimately fell victim to his disease through one of the many cliche avenues - addiction. Nonetheless, I blamed myself. If I had been more supportive, if I had not had this fight with him, if I had been more present, or told him more often how much I loved him .. maybe this wouldn't have happened. Alas - our lives parted with the most awful words imaginable, said in the heat of an argument, never to be taken back again. "Get the f out of my house and don't you ever come back! You hear me? Ever." .. And, he didn't ... even though I was waiting for him to disobey my angry orders. Waiting for him to knock on my door the next day to tell me he knew that I didn't mean it and that we were going to make it. That his recovery from this beast was on the horizon.

The months after his death were a fog. I went on leave from my job and finally quit, after 13 years of service. I cried almost every single day in that first year after J's death. I also had dozens of spiritual experiences I never had in my life before. In a way, this tragedy has instilled much more faith in me than I've ever been capable of. And, it brought a new dimension to my faith, which I thought to be a silly concept until I experienced their presence and guidance first-hand. Angels. And this is where I will leave this topic because, my spirituality is very personal and about a year ago I would have made fun of someone who believes in angels. You may as well have said to me you believe in fairies. But, I have changed. My life has changed. I could write a whole separate blog on this  but I'm trying to bring this baby back to its roots: Light-hearted observations (and lots of ranting [bitching!] about frustrating crap that seems to always happen concurrently at any given moment of my day).

So - a few months ago I decided I'm done with crying. Death is a part of life and I needed to accept what awful hole in my heart and life I now had and make it work somehow - just as millions of other people do and have done throughout history and the world. This, of course, I told myself all throughout 2013 but only recently did I manage to actually put my words into action. I guess, I needed to live through this awful grief to arrive at the point at which I could make such a choice.

It is now autumn. School has just begun and I am getting adjusted to another year without my other half. Lucky me, God has blessed me with two unbelievably awesome daughters, who occasionally stress the heck out of me but who - overall - are two pretty cool and loving people. They are 10 and 12 now. I like our little family unit  ... but, honestly, I wouldn't mind to get laid again sometime in the near future. The question is .. will such a thing be possible or will I become a cat lady because all men are dogs? Because, I refuse to entertain any flirtations with men who are in relationships, let alone married, and that seems to be the only kind out there.
... But, that can't be true...  I personally know several men who are really nice, non-cheating individuals ... so, maybe I'm too jaded or pessimistic?

Photographing weddings helps with keeping my romantic hope alive. I have to fight my tears of joyful compassion every time I am witnessing a couple's vows. It is such a significant and beautiful moment. I believe. I believe in it!
If J wouldn't have been so unstable, deeply in debt, and a raging alcoholic, I would have married him in a heartbeat. ;)
.. He wasn't really a 'raging' alcoholic... he was honestly trying to fight this thing. He tried so hard. I saw the desperation in his eyes. But I also saw defeat. I often felt just so bad for him. :(

Anyway .. so much for my "quick" update.
Sorry it was mostly depressing. It's deceiving, for a lot of good and a lot of love has sprung from this.

happiness is subjective...

what is wrong with me? i should be happy. my kids are healthy. my family is healthy. I am (relatively) healthy. D can be annoying but really he isn't that bad as a husband. his weaknesses are bearable, so to say, even though I seem to not be able to bear them anymore.
there are people out there that have no homes, have to watch their kids die, their parents,.... there are people out there with problems, which make my complaints sound silly, stupid, ridiculous..but most of all, selfish.

this realization brings me to tears sometimes. almost every day, actually...when I see misery, injustice, or someone suffering I cry (silently) and curse at myself for being such a self-involved, spoiled little bitch. how dare I complain about my life?

then I wonder, ...am I also crying because I am overly sensitive thanks to an all underlying repressed depression?

ah, crap....I said I wasn't gonna go there...I wanted to return to light-hearted, mundane BS-kinda blogging.
well, ..just for the record (to acknowledge that this isn't an all depressive entry)...I also find pleasure in all the sadness I experience. I thank God for letting me experience or witness so much compassion and for letting me recognize so many ambivalent, rich, sad, deep and thought-provoking moments.

i wish I could express myself better (in English, anyway).

ok. I'll try to be less depressing with my next entry.

books and movies

just FYI, "The Bitch in The House" is my new bible.
;)

no, ...but it is really amazing how many women are out there that I can identify with on some level. besides, the book is pretty damn funny and perfect for the train-ride.

another book I am excited to get to:
Gilgamesh (latest translation)

movies I have seen during the past week (YES, the past week...that's more movies than I have seen in the past 6 months). It's that we have a houseguest, ...and I love having houseguests. Makes one's work-related inertia disappear. The fact that our houseguest is a crazy movie buff like I am (will go to the theater at any time and any amount of times during the day;) is really making this whole "what are we gonna do tonight"-question much easier to answer.

so, ...what did we see? nothing I'm proud to mention, really. ... "Spiderman III" (which I actually enjoyed more than I expected), "The Reaping" (scarier than I thought. ...I am not big on horror-movies...), and last but not least "Georgia Rules" (a flick, I went into - highly anxious about landing in another "ya-yah-sisterhood"-like movie .... thank God, it was nothing like that,...in fact, it was pretty good. well, the acting was good...the plot...I am still deciding.)

The Hawaii after-school program

this is a mini entry....just to remember something I don't want to forget.

we signed MLee up at an after-school program at the YMCA, which we (and everyone else) always refers to just as "the Y".
How was it at the Y today?
Do they do homework with you at the Y?
etc.

anyway, MLee seems to have misunderstood and now constantly refers to the Y as "Hawaii".
and she won't let me correct her. ;)

- Mom, am I going to Hawaii today after school?
-You really won't be going to Hawaii honey, but you'll be going to THE Y! It's called "the Y".
- NO, it is called Hawaii. TRUST ME!

she's driving me nuts with this latest line, btw. "trust me!" ... where does she get that from??

PS: you know, I've been trying to make this blog a little more anonymous by changing the names lately...but what the hell is the point of doing that if I keep on tagging my entries with the old (full) tags. ;) ....so, in case you haven't figured it out, yet, MLee stands for Maia.

how will this go on?

I've decided I need to get back to my roots with this blog.
It's become way too serious and way too depressive. And OMG, the drama (btw. I am not pregnant...HALLELUJA, Thank you GOD!)

anyway, what do I mean with roots?
I mean light-hearted daily anekdotes and completely irrelevant thought processes.

today. let's do a "MLee sez" (MLee is my 5-year old and I used to write down a lot of all the funny stuff she said).

ML: Mami, ...can God hear everything we say?
me: yes.
ML: even in the car?
me: yes.
ML: why?
me: uhm.....be-cauuuse... God is everywhere.
ML: everywhere? even inside my body?
me: yeah, somehow. it's kind of hard to describe. God is everywhere because he made everything. He made you and me, and the plants, the planets, the universe ... or at least, he initiated other processes to make these things happen. anyway, main thing to remember is that God loves you... he loves everyone and everything he created...
ML: even Jupiter?
me: ehm...yes..in a way, I suppose. ......and....all he asks of us is to try to be good people. and that's not always going to be easy. sometimes doing the right thing is really hard. but all he asks is that we try... as hard as we can.
ML: are you thinking what I'm thinking?
me: what are you thinking?
ML: I am thinking that I will try to be a really good person.
me: great idea. :)
ML: God is invisible, right?
me: yes. but you can feel God.
ML: I can see God, you know.
me: oh, really?
ML: yes, he is sitting right next to me.
me: (thinking: so God is a 'he', hm?) what does he look like?
ML: he is wearing a red shirt, white pants, a green hat, and silver shoes.
me: hmm..... sounds like God is lacking a sense of style. (worrying whether this counts as blasphemy I add): I sure hope God has a sense of humor. .... well, I guess, he must have...considering how ironic and funny life can be sometimes.
......
ML: you know, I figured out where God lives.
me: really?
ML: yes, he lives in a big, big, big, big, big, big, big, big, (burp), big, big mountain. and there is a door in it.
me: aha. so what does he do there all day?
ML: I don't know what he does but that's where he lives.

-------------
ahh, it feels good to pass on some good thoughts, attitudes, and beliefs about life and God on to your offspring. reality, self-questioning, and God doubts will come soon enough ..and then they'll need some foundation to work with. I just think, ....it's good to believe in God. Combine it with a healthy sense of science, rationality, and doubt and you've got something to work with.
I am not a big fan of religion or any kinds of groupings for that matter but I feel that some sort of faith, spirituality, or belief in something more and higher than our lives is essential.

(does it sound like my last sentence is missing something? could be. I am just drawing a total blank right now. and it's actually early... still I am sleep-deprived.... well, hope to be back with more trivial entries soon. after all, if I were to write about what is really going on in my life at the moment, I'd probably have some sort of nervous-breakdown. somehow, I don't feel like I should be writing about these so deeply personal things on a blog anymore. no matter how anonymous I try to make this thing.)

PLEASE, not now!!!

My God, ..I am so nervous….
I am tired all the time, a very strange period (very very light) has set in even though I just had one about 2 or 3 weeks ago (and I am usually on time or about a week late)….but worst of all: I am suddenly craving lemony sodas (ginger ale, sprite, etc. – ok. ginger ale isn’t lemon but fresh like lemon) instead of my usual favorites (coke and pepsi). AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH….this is what happened when I got pregnant with MLee and Nini. (Also, with Nini I had a full period even though I was already pregnant ...and before it showed up in the results.)

I CAN’t be pregnant…I can’t!!!!! Not NOW!!! It is my turn now….I wanna finally do something for myself…go back to SCHOOL...change careers…get back to my passions.
Do I sound selfish?

Shit.
Ok. Wahrscheinlich alles nur stress-related….or post-stress I should say..since the real stress is over (Jan and Feb. were probably the worst ever in that dept.). Elizabeth says it could take a while until stress symptoms show.

Shoot. I just slept most of the day..and I am tired again (or still?).
This is not good. Not good. But what if I am not pregnant….am I sick then?…or is it really just the stress? Unfortunately, I have no health insurance to find out (i.e. go to a doctor). This should be a reminder NOT ever to assign important tasks to my husband - aka Mr. Follow-up-what-is-that? (e.g. getting health insurance for the family).

This isn’t possible anyway. Is it?
D is getting a kick out of it (but really, I think, he is scared as hell).

I am not a good pregnant woman, I tell you. I suck at being pregnant. I really don’t like it.
Also, I am soo over the whole baby crap. I really want a BREAAAAK! It is just now – finally – getting a bit easier with the girls.

Can you tell I have been pretty overworked with the whole parenting thing in the past 5 years? ;)

Heidi is pregnant by the way!!! :D
I get really happy when other women get pregnant.

back in nyc

i am sitting here. in my mother in law's house. not separated or divorced, yet.
we are still sleeping on a full-sized bed (the four of us) and I am dying to sleep in a position in which my feet are not sticking out half way over the edge of the mattress.
well, at least our boxes have arrived and we have begun to unpack. maybe we can even move into our place this weekend. let's see.
the last week i have spent playing terminator...no wait...exterminator... the condition these dead-beat tenants have left our place in has really been unimaginably filthy.
besides going to war with the roaches I have been busy researching schooling options for MLee.
Rosa convinced me to get her tested for one of those Gifted and Talented Programs, for which she needs to score with an IQ of 120 and over to be accepted. At first I was a bit sceptical but after visiting the school for a tour I lost my doubts. It would be great for her to go to school there. Let's see how she does on that test.
I also like our neighborhood schools. Unfortunately, we are not zoned for them so we are going to have to move, for there is no way I am sending my kid to the school we are zoned for. I'd rather home-school her then.
I would love to just send her to that public school nearby. It is such a friendly place and I think MLee would do just fine there.
Is it wrong to consider convenience when picking schools? That darn Gifted and Talented program is quite a drive from where we live. ...well, 15 min. but still....do that every morning...with traffic...and after that drop off Nini...I won't be able to have a job...

ugh. my writing sucks today.
i gotta get back into the habit.