I've made a decision. I'm not going to try to publish my letters from Iraq right now. I don't want to dredge up the war right now. Maybe someday, but not now. And dredge it would be. Mom saved all of my e-mails, not just from Iraq, but from both stints in Germany. The problem is, she didn't exactly keep them in order. She handed over a 4" think binder of printed e-mails with pages sticking out in all directions. Even if I didn't mind the thought of revisiting my old letters, looking at that notebook would be enough for me to call it off.
But, I still want to keep writing. Which, after a day struggling to get a few things down, I've realized is HARD! I thought I might try to submit an article for the Reader's Write for the Sun Magazine. The next topic is rain. I've got a few stories about rain, but as soon as I try to write them down it's like trying to bathe a cat. I just can't get the cat to stay in the tub.
Here are my latest tries. They're a bit bland, in need of work, but at least cohesive, which my first attempt was NOT.
Rain
People often talk about Ireland. They mention the green hills, the rain, the pubs, and the people. Sometimes you’ll see a travel picture that shows impressive cliffs, quaint cottages, or a photo of a black nosed sheep. I have to admit, I saw all of that in Ireland.
After a week in Dublin we decided to get away from the city. Driving down narrow lanes G and I left Galway for the Cliffs of Moher on a cloudy January morning. January is always cloudy in Ireland, or so I’ve been led to believe. It’s cold too. Not like the Boston winter I’ve become accustomed to, but far worse than the Januaries I spent in Albuquerque.
I made G stop along the way, and not just because 80 k/hr seemed a bit fast on wet winding roads. The view from the passenger’s window was too enticing to drive past. It was a postcard waiting to be published.
The waves were crashing onto rocky plains while the clouds were rolling with the wind. Long haired, soft nosed cows ignored all of that to munch lazily on the grass lining the side of the road. We ignored the cows to hike down to the coast.
Careful not to fall, we grappled through the rocks as icy rain pelted us along the way. We passed bottles and driftwood, and the occasional seaweed as we found our footing. The water, once we got there, was not just powerful, but a power. If God wears a tunic, the waves hitting Ireland are the movement of of that fabric as He takes a stroll along the beach.
It was too strong for us to stay long. We paid our respects and turned back, walking quietly back to our car in the rain.
Rain:
I grew up in the desert, so I should have know that it rains in Iraq. Deserts always have monsoons, which are mysterious, powerful events, made even more spiritual for the extreme need of all beings found on the sun-baked land. When it rained in September I thought it would never end.
We lived in tents at the time. We had smooth wooden floors painted a shiny black, and two air-conditioners on either corner of the tent that would either heat or cool the air depending on the weather. It was a surprise when we needed the heater much more than we needed the air conditioner. We had proper twin beds and comforters that we would snuggle into under our mosquito nets when our work day was done. I was lucky to have a wall locker to myself because I was in the Army, but every rack was different and some of the marines preferred to sleep with a sleeping bag so they wouldn’t get too comfortable in war.
As the rain continued the mud situation became dire. This was not the mud of the American southwest. Imagine superglue mixed with wet clay and you might be able to understand what the ground was like under our feet. People became about 4 inches taller, and everyone, colonels and privates alike, were required to take their boots off when walking inside. Boots lined the Tactical Operations Center door and people ran around in socked feet at war speed.
Eventually we got a system together. You’d have one pair of boots that were worn outside and one pair worn inside. Seabees were put to work constructing shelves for the entrance to the Tactical Operation Center. Floors were scrubbed twice a day, and Thursday Field Day was turned into biweekly cleaning event.
When the rain finally stopped, the attacks started again. Apparently angry Iraqis and foreign fighters had also been a bit put off by the weather, but when the rain stopped it was back to business as usual.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
What a day..
I knew that yesterday was going to be tough, but I didn't quite know how bad it was going to be.
It all started with tutoring at Rosies. My tutee is from Somalia and wants to work on her writing skills, but she was recently fired, so all she can think about right now is how to get a job or get on unemployment or get her last paycheck from her previous employer. I don't blame her, but I can't exactly help her. I can help her write, but as we were getting ready to leave she asked me to help her figure out what to write on an application...it had the question "reason you left" and she couldn't figure out what to write. While I gave her a few options, she was never satisfied with my answers, or with my suggestion to talk with the career adviser, and before long it was a half hour after I'd planned on leaving.
That left only one hour to print off my resumés, eat, change, and find my zipcar to leave for the Teacher's job fair in Lowell (which is an hour away). I stumbled out the door a little after the hour and went to my zipcar location. This was a different place than usual because I wanted to make sure I could take a car that didn't have any reservations after my own in case I returned late.
I found it at once, which should have told me something was wrong. I got about halfway to Lowell before I decided to change radio stations. When I did, I noticed that the radio was a Toyota model, except I was supposed to be in a Nissan Vesta. Humm. So I dug around for my phone and saw that zipcar had called. I called them back and let them know I realized my mistake, but that I couldn't bring the car back right away. They were very nice and switched the reservations. I should have asked when the car needed to be returned.
The job fair itself went alright I guess. There were tons of people there. Everyone had to leave their resumés at the door and I would have to guess that there were at least 100 resumés for humanities positions. I was headed out the door when I had a chance to meet with one last school district that was hiring for a history position. I think I blew it, but who knows. It was worth the shot.
When I got to where my car should be, or I though it should be, it wasn't there. The car garage had at least four entrances and I'd parked near the only entrance below ground level. Twenty minutes of wandering through the garage and I realized I was definately running late. I still could have made it back on time if I hadn't gotten lost in Lowell. Lowell and I have a history of confusion. Not only are the majority of streets one way, they don't run on a grid system so you never really know what direction you'll be going in next if you take a wrong turn...which I did.
Another 20 minutes, a frantic call to Gerd who is my direction guru, and I decided to call zipcar to extend my reservation. Turns out I can't extend my reservation, someone has reserved the car I'm in at exactly the time I should be returning with it. I ask if they can take the car I was supposed to be in. The person with whom I switched already extended their reservation. I'm stuck with at least a $50 late fee.
While traffic into Boston isn't as bad as it could be (30 minutes means the difference between pre-rush hour traffic and rush hour traffic) I still only managed to get to the zipcar location at 5:25. I had my first counselling session scheduled for 5:30, which is about a 2o minute walk away or a short cab ride. Too bad I couldn't find a cab. Finally I caught one after walking about 10 minutes, and only managed to get to the office at 6:00. While she cut us off in time for her next appointment at 6:30, taking my insurance information down made her run behind by 15 minutes, so I threw off the next person's time too.
I left the office at 6:45 and choir starts at 7:15, which is exactly 24 minutes by train. The train is about 5 minutes away. I get to the train as it's taking off. I have to wait about 5 minutes for the next one, which feels like eternity. Finally I manage to walk into choir about 10 minutes late and they're just warming up. Woo Hoo! As I try to sneak into the back row I have to pass one person who is standing in front of the isle seat. She knocks over the drum set behind her trying to let me get by.
Now, I haven't eaten more than a bowl of soup since lunch, so around 8:30 I decide to call it a night. Choir goes to 9:15 but I decide I'm too tired to continue. I did manage to leave without knocking over the drums again though. I don't even bother to take the train home. It's 45 minutes by train and 20 minutes by taxi...if your taxi driver speaks English and knows where you're going. 30 minutes later I finally get home. and collapse. and then eat.
Wouldn't you think being unemployed would mean I wouldn't be busy?! Hah. What a day.
It all started with tutoring at Rosies. My tutee is from Somalia and wants to work on her writing skills, but she was recently fired, so all she can think about right now is how to get a job or get on unemployment or get her last paycheck from her previous employer. I don't blame her, but I can't exactly help her. I can help her write, but as we were getting ready to leave she asked me to help her figure out what to write on an application...it had the question "reason you left" and she couldn't figure out what to write. While I gave her a few options, she was never satisfied with my answers, or with my suggestion to talk with the career adviser, and before long it was a half hour after I'd planned on leaving.
That left only one hour to print off my resumés, eat, change, and find my zipcar to leave for the Teacher's job fair in Lowell (which is an hour away). I stumbled out the door a little after the hour and went to my zipcar location. This was a different place than usual because I wanted to make sure I could take a car that didn't have any reservations after my own in case I returned late.
I found it at once, which should have told me something was wrong. I got about halfway to Lowell before I decided to change radio stations. When I did, I noticed that the radio was a Toyota model, except I was supposed to be in a Nissan Vesta. Humm. So I dug around for my phone and saw that zipcar had called. I called them back and let them know I realized my mistake, but that I couldn't bring the car back right away. They were very nice and switched the reservations. I should have asked when the car needed to be returned.
The job fair itself went alright I guess. There were tons of people there. Everyone had to leave their resumés at the door and I would have to guess that there were at least 100 resumés for humanities positions. I was headed out the door when I had a chance to meet with one last school district that was hiring for a history position. I think I blew it, but who knows. It was worth the shot.
When I got to where my car should be, or I though it should be, it wasn't there. The car garage had at least four entrances and I'd parked near the only entrance below ground level. Twenty minutes of wandering through the garage and I realized I was definately running late. I still could have made it back on time if I hadn't gotten lost in Lowell. Lowell and I have a history of confusion. Not only are the majority of streets one way, they don't run on a grid system so you never really know what direction you'll be going in next if you take a wrong turn...which I did.
Another 20 minutes, a frantic call to Gerd who is my direction guru, and I decided to call zipcar to extend my reservation. Turns out I can't extend my reservation, someone has reserved the car I'm in at exactly the time I should be returning with it. I ask if they can take the car I was supposed to be in. The person with whom I switched already extended their reservation. I'm stuck with at least a $50 late fee.
While traffic into Boston isn't as bad as it could be (30 minutes means the difference between pre-rush hour traffic and rush hour traffic) I still only managed to get to the zipcar location at 5:25. I had my first counselling session scheduled for 5:30, which is about a 2o minute walk away or a short cab ride. Too bad I couldn't find a cab. Finally I caught one after walking about 10 minutes, and only managed to get to the office at 6:00. While she cut us off in time for her next appointment at 6:30, taking my insurance information down made her run behind by 15 minutes, so I threw off the next person's time too.
I left the office at 6:45 and choir starts at 7:15, which is exactly 24 minutes by train. The train is about 5 minutes away. I get to the train as it's taking off. I have to wait about 5 minutes for the next one, which feels like eternity. Finally I manage to walk into choir about 10 minutes late and they're just warming up. Woo Hoo! As I try to sneak into the back row I have to pass one person who is standing in front of the isle seat. She knocks over the drum set behind her trying to let me get by.
Now, I haven't eaten more than a bowl of soup since lunch, so around 8:30 I decide to call it a night. Choir goes to 9:15 but I decide I'm too tired to continue. I did manage to leave without knocking over the drums again though. I don't even bother to take the train home. It's 45 minutes by train and 20 minutes by taxi...if your taxi driver speaks English and knows where you're going. 30 minutes later I finally get home. and collapse. and then eat.
Wouldn't you think being unemployed would mean I wouldn't be busy?! Hah. What a day.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Lent
I probably wouldn't have thought of lent on time if I hadn't read Kristi's post about it, but I would have thought, down the road, that I missed it. So...I've decided to attempt (no restrictions, just movement towards a goal) to get up early every morning (when you don't have a job it's very tempting to sleep in) and spend some time in meditation. I managed to get up around 6 this morning and spent about 20 minutes sitting in our spare room looking at the city. It's a beautiful way to start the day. I am also planning on reducing my time on the internet. While I would like to say I'd give it up entirely I do actually need the web for job searches, paying bills, etc. I do however tend to get carried away. So no more random surfing.
Well, off to go volunteer. For not being employed it's a busy day. 10-11:30 volunteer at Rosies. 1:00-3:00 Job Fair in Lowell. 5:30-6:30 Dr. appointment. 7:15-9:00 Choir practice.
Well, off to go volunteer. For not being employed it's a busy day. 10-11:30 volunteer at Rosies. 1:00-3:00 Job Fair in Lowell. 5:30-6:30 Dr. appointment. 7:15-9:00 Choir practice.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Trying to Pull It All Together
I substitute taught today for a few hours, which was good, because I wanted to see what 6th grade looked like. They're pretty hyper.
Because I substitute taught I was unable to volunteer for the GED program. I have mixed feelings on my morning because I was starting to make a connection with some of the students and feel bad about the randomness of my time with the class. Still, I need to figure out what to do about next year and part of that means I need to keep working in the schools. On the other hand volunteering can also make connections and if I were a reliable volunteer I could demonstrate that I'm a reliable worker.
I switched counselors this week because of our insurance plan. I didn't want to leave my last counselor, but she was out of network, which was going to add up to a bit more than I'd like to spend. Instead of continuing our regular sessions I'd been afraid to make appointments before finding out how much seeing her was going to cost. I think that while I've been mostly okay, I've been feeling the effect of not working with anyone. My first appointment is tomorrow and I'm hoping we'll work well together and that the session will help move me back in the right direction.
I've also got a job fair to go to tomorrow. There are over 30 school districts represented and with any luck I'll get a feeling for any possible teaching opportunities for the upcoming school year. I'm afraid to cross my fingers. At the same time I received my application for Colorado certification and can start working on that too. I've decided to register for the elementary MTEL test for Massachusetts certification. I can only register for one subject area and have to choose between elementary, high school language arts, middle school social studies, or middle school language arts. Hard to do when you don't know what your best bet in the current job market. Maybe I'll wait until after the job fair to make a choice.
Not a very interesting post, but that's my current update. Just trying to put the puzzle together.
Because I substitute taught I was unable to volunteer for the GED program. I have mixed feelings on my morning because I was starting to make a connection with some of the students and feel bad about the randomness of my time with the class. Still, I need to figure out what to do about next year and part of that means I need to keep working in the schools. On the other hand volunteering can also make connections and if I were a reliable volunteer I could demonstrate that I'm a reliable worker.
I switched counselors this week because of our insurance plan. I didn't want to leave my last counselor, but she was out of network, which was going to add up to a bit more than I'd like to spend. Instead of continuing our regular sessions I'd been afraid to make appointments before finding out how much seeing her was going to cost. I think that while I've been mostly okay, I've been feeling the effect of not working with anyone. My first appointment is tomorrow and I'm hoping we'll work well together and that the session will help move me back in the right direction.
I've also got a job fair to go to tomorrow. There are over 30 school districts represented and with any luck I'll get a feeling for any possible teaching opportunities for the upcoming school year. I'm afraid to cross my fingers. At the same time I received my application for Colorado certification and can start working on that too. I've decided to register for the elementary MTEL test for Massachusetts certification. I can only register for one subject area and have to choose between elementary, high school language arts, middle school social studies, or middle school language arts. Hard to do when you don't know what your best bet in the current job market. Maybe I'll wait until after the job fair to make a choice.
Not a very interesting post, but that's my current update. Just trying to put the puzzle together.
Monday, February 23, 2009
ow, my arm...
Snowboarding is great fun, until you fall.
It didn't really matter that it was snowing while we were out on the slopes (although it would have been great if I'd had goggles). The snow was perfect. I mean perfect. I haven't seen snow that nice since New Mexico.
It was such a nice day, and I was doing so well I decided to try the moguls. Wow, moguls are fun. The only problem, controlling speed while going up and down little bumps. Naturally I fell...and my arm still hurts. But I tried them again a few runs later anyway.
I'm pretty glad I didn't break my arm. I realize I could have, and maybe I'd better stay off the moguls for a while, but I guess I'll take the risk again sometime. Funny how I can enjoy a sport in which I regularly hurt myself. I love it though. What's life without a little pain?
It didn't really matter that it was snowing while we were out on the slopes (although it would have been great if I'd had goggles). The snow was perfect. I mean perfect. I haven't seen snow that nice since New Mexico.
It was such a nice day, and I was doing so well I decided to try the moguls. Wow, moguls are fun. The only problem, controlling speed while going up and down little bumps. Naturally I fell...and my arm still hurts. But I tried them again a few runs later anyway.
I'm pretty glad I didn't break my arm. I realize I could have, and maybe I'd better stay off the moguls for a while, but I guess I'll take the risk again sometime. Funny how I can enjoy a sport in which I regularly hurt myself. I love it though. What's life without a little pain?
Friday, February 20, 2009
No, I don't have a life
Today I was going to clean the house. Yep, was, as in past tense, didn't do.
Instead I spent the day catching up on the news, watching Grey's Anatomy (I like it better online, the commercials are shorter) and doing my crossword puzzle. Random web searches continued. Forget sugar, I'm addicted to the internet. Seriously, I should put an egg timer by my side and limit myself. In my defense, I did at least get on the exercise bike while watching Grey's.
But somehow I managed to get pulled into the Bachelor again. Can I just say I think the show is a terrible idea. One guy dates several women who compete for his affection. All the time he's dating several girls at the same time he's supposed to find his one true love. Right. Um, not really the way things work. Apparently there's some upcoming drama that is all over the web about broken proposals and paid off bachelorettes. No surprise really.
I propose an alternative.
How about a reality show where a matchmaker pairs a dozen couples with the best chance of making a real, life long connection. Throughout the series the couples go through different dates and games designed to learn more about one another. If they don't feel a good chance at love near the end of the season, they leave. If they do feel realistically attracted they don't get engaged! Like 6 weeks is enough time to decide if you're ready to get married. Instead they leave the show in love and try to work things out together. After a period not filming they come back, say in a year or 6 months to report how things are going. If things are going well they get engaged, if not they go their separate way.
Love should not be a competitive sport. Why do people have to get voted off the island? If producers really want competition in my scenario partners could compete for different date locations or prizes as they reveal that they know and understand each other.
Think anybody would produce my show? If they did, it'd be a whole lot better than The Bachelor.
Instead I spent the day catching up on the news, watching Grey's Anatomy (I like it better online, the commercials are shorter) and doing my crossword puzzle. Random web searches continued. Forget sugar, I'm addicted to the internet. Seriously, I should put an egg timer by my side and limit myself. In my defense, I did at least get on the exercise bike while watching Grey's.
But somehow I managed to get pulled into the Bachelor again. Can I just say I think the show is a terrible idea. One guy dates several women who compete for his affection. All the time he's dating several girls at the same time he's supposed to find his one true love. Right. Um, not really the way things work. Apparently there's some upcoming drama that is all over the web about broken proposals and paid off bachelorettes. No surprise really.
I propose an alternative.
How about a reality show where a matchmaker pairs a dozen couples with the best chance of making a real, life long connection. Throughout the series the couples go through different dates and games designed to learn more about one another. If they don't feel a good chance at love near the end of the season, they leave. If they do feel realistically attracted they don't get engaged! Like 6 weeks is enough time to decide if you're ready to get married. Instead they leave the show in love and try to work things out together. After a period not filming they come back, say in a year or 6 months to report how things are going. If things are going well they get engaged, if not they go their separate way.
Love should not be a competitive sport. Why do people have to get voted off the island? If producers really want competition in my scenario partners could compete for different date locations or prizes as they reveal that they know and understand each other.
Think anybody would produce my show? If they did, it'd be a whole lot better than The Bachelor.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Domestic Partnership is Not Enough
While volunteering at the GED program today, I got to talking to a student who would never fit the expected profile of a GED student. He's lived in Mexico, Tokyo, London, Los Angeles, New York, and now Boston. He's seen Wicked, the musical, four times. He's climbed Mount Fuji and is going to Machu Pichu in May. While his conversational English is very good, his writing skills needed significant work and he's studying for the upcoming math portion of the GED. He's an all around hard worker, nice person, and clean cut individual.
And yet, he's worried about his visa. Right now he's on a tourist visa. He's been married for 10 years to the same person (an American) but can't get a green card or permanent residency because he's gay. Visa's are not issued for domestic partners, you have to be married. Gay marriage is not recognized by the department of immigration. So, my student is a house husband. He'd rather work, but it's taken him 10 years to try for a GED because there was no reason for it before now. He wasn't allowed to work in the states.
He's now getting a GED, but it's unlikely that he'll find a job that sponsors him to work in the U.S. He's waiting on the list for a green card, but that takes time, which is confounded by the fact that he's moved around so much (his husband's job moves him around a lot I guess).
Now, I'm not a huge gay rights activist. I believe in equality for all and have no problem with gay marriage, but I'm often more focused on other issues like the environment. Still, I think it's clear that something is wrong here. If you're in a committed relationship (10 years is a long time), but come from a different country, why should immigration be able to keep you from your spouse. Obviously his mate can afford to sponsor him. If he were with a woman he could easily marry and gain immediate residency status. Because of his sexual orientation he is unable to do so.
It's no wonder we have problems with illegal immigration. This person returns to Mexico regularly to keep in compliance with the law, but his partner has the money to make it work. Think of how easy it would be for him NOT to leave the country. We are so concerned about rules and guidelines to limit entry into the United States we may be hurting our own cause. Marriage isn't just about the spiritual connection, often it's a tangible contract the affords a couple a degree of rights not guaranteed in any other way.
Whether you agree with the lifestyle or practice of homosexuality or not, why should sexual orientation determine your ability to enter into a binding contract? (Yes marraige is, or should be, more than that, but nothing else gives a person the same rights as the marriage contract) Until domestic partnership is contractually equal to marriage, marriage should be granted to any couple that require the legal benefits of marriage.
And yet, he's worried about his visa. Right now he's on a tourist visa. He's been married for 10 years to the same person (an American) but can't get a green card or permanent residency because he's gay. Visa's are not issued for domestic partners, you have to be married. Gay marriage is not recognized by the department of immigration. So, my student is a house husband. He'd rather work, but it's taken him 10 years to try for a GED because there was no reason for it before now. He wasn't allowed to work in the states.
He's now getting a GED, but it's unlikely that he'll find a job that sponsors him to work in the U.S. He's waiting on the list for a green card, but that takes time, which is confounded by the fact that he's moved around so much (his husband's job moves him around a lot I guess).
Now, I'm not a huge gay rights activist. I believe in equality for all and have no problem with gay marriage, but I'm often more focused on other issues like the environment. Still, I think it's clear that something is wrong here. If you're in a committed relationship (10 years is a long time), but come from a different country, why should immigration be able to keep you from your spouse. Obviously his mate can afford to sponsor him. If he were with a woman he could easily marry and gain immediate residency status. Because of his sexual orientation he is unable to do so.
It's no wonder we have problems with illegal immigration. This person returns to Mexico regularly to keep in compliance with the law, but his partner has the money to make it work. Think of how easy it would be for him NOT to leave the country. We are so concerned about rules and guidelines to limit entry into the United States we may be hurting our own cause. Marriage isn't just about the spiritual connection, often it's a tangible contract the affords a couple a degree of rights not guaranteed in any other way.
Whether you agree with the lifestyle or practice of homosexuality or not, why should sexual orientation determine your ability to enter into a binding contract? (Yes marraige is, or should be, more than that, but nothing else gives a person the same rights as the marriage contract) Until domestic partnership is contractually equal to marriage, marriage should be granted to any couple that require the legal benefits of marriage.
A Little Obsession
I recognize I'm a little obsessed about the Suleman Octuplets. I'm as astonished as most people are about the situation, but I do realize I should let it go. The news just keeps dishing it up and I keep looking at it, somewhat like I keep playing Bejeweled on my cell phone long after it's become boring.
I read the comments after an article on USA today (distracted from my daily crossword) and find it interested. One comment in particular interested me. Nadya represents all that is wrong in America, he wrote. She wants more than she can afford, doesn't know her limitations, acts selfishly, and fails to understand the limits of government intervention. She may have made a mistake, but it's a mistake we, in our own ways, can relate to.
People are projecting. For every selfish act they've ever done, they're pushing that off on someone else. Yes, she made a mistake, but she's also the scape goat for all of the problems we see in society.
Other conservative commenters claimed it's all the Liberals faults with their lax view on government spending. Uh. No. What's that all about?
I think people are afraid. They're afraid our government isn't capable of limiting aide to those who deliberately place themselves in poor financial situations. They're afraid that a medical community lacks the oversite to prevent something like this happening, yet are also scared to limit the reproductive rights of women in any way. They're ashamed of an American who, by action and interview, has displayed the selfishness we see in so many ways in society today.
We want an apology. We want to see remose that things have gone wrong. Everyone is waiting for things to be made right.
If only we could focus on the selflessness of so many others. Can we still see how volunteers, parents, and community members act in an honorable way every day?
What should happen to these children? Should they go home with mom to a house they can't afford, be placed on medicaid health insurance, go to a university child care service while mom goes to school? Should they be taken away and placed in foster care? Either way the government pays something. Everyone's got an opinion. Regarless, whatever happens the states won't get closure on this. Not until they start looking for the positive. Maybe then they'll be able to see the positive in themselves. And I'm counting myself in this too.
I read the comments after an article on USA today (distracted from my daily crossword) and find it interested. One comment in particular interested me. Nadya represents all that is wrong in America, he wrote. She wants more than she can afford, doesn't know her limitations, acts selfishly, and fails to understand the limits of government intervention. She may have made a mistake, but it's a mistake we, in our own ways, can relate to.
People are projecting. For every selfish act they've ever done, they're pushing that off on someone else. Yes, she made a mistake, but she's also the scape goat for all of the problems we see in society.
Other conservative commenters claimed it's all the Liberals faults with their lax view on government spending. Uh. No. What's that all about?
I think people are afraid. They're afraid our government isn't capable of limiting aide to those who deliberately place themselves in poor financial situations. They're afraid that a medical community lacks the oversite to prevent something like this happening, yet are also scared to limit the reproductive rights of women in any way. They're ashamed of an American who, by action and interview, has displayed the selfishness we see in so many ways in society today.
We want an apology. We want to see remose that things have gone wrong. Everyone is waiting for things to be made right.
If only we could focus on the selflessness of so many others. Can we still see how volunteers, parents, and community members act in an honorable way every day?
What should happen to these children? Should they go home with mom to a house they can't afford, be placed on medicaid health insurance, go to a university child care service while mom goes to school? Should they be taken away and placed in foster care? Either way the government pays something. Everyone's got an opinion. Regarless, whatever happens the states won't get closure on this. Not until they start looking for the positive. Maybe then they'll be able to see the positive in themselves. And I'm counting myself in this too.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Property Manager
Instead of selling my house in New Mexico while I was away, I decided to rent it out and figure out what to do with it later. Originally I was going to sell it and buy a house in New York. When the deal in NY fell through I couldn't find another house I wanted.
Now I'm having trouble with my tenant. Up until January she paid on time and without too much trouble, but apparently things got rough for her in the mean time. She had an accident that required surgery. Her roomate left his belongings in the house but moved and didn't pay his portion of rent. She lost her job. Her other roomate lost his job.
Naturally, she got behind on rent.
I called her several times to see what was going on, but only on Monday did she finally let me know what was going on. I offered her a deal (since I'm not particularly interested in trying to find a new renter). She's already paid last month's rent (April) but she owes part of January and all of February. I offered to take her deposit as one month's rent (March) and allow her to divide the remaining amount due between the 3 remaining months or pay all up front and remain there until the end of the lease. I was clear that she would need to either move in April or re-establish a deposit on a new contract. I also gave her the number of a friend who I know is hiring for her line of work.
It's now Wednesday and I haven't heard back from her. I'm not sure if any good deed goes unpunished. If I were her, I'd be jumping at the chance, or at least explain why it wouldn't work. If she's so broke she can't pay any rent at all she's going to have to figure something out. I'm giving her until the end of the week and then I'll give her 3 days notice that I'm filing an eviction notice. I don't want to, but if she doesn't respond I still have to pay the mortgage. Plus the sooner I get her out of the apartment the sooner I can start looking for a new renter.
The irony is that I've found a house in New York I'd love to buy...but I can't because I don't have a job. Gerd's looking into it, but he's so slow at the process. I'd rather rent a house out in New York than in New Mexico, so I'd be willing to sell, except that NM is our emergency plan. If I can't find a job or if he looses his job, I still have a job waiting in New Mexico for the upcoming school year.
The New York house is a duplex, with one half already rented out. While it wouldn't pay for the entire mortgate, it would pay for 75% of the cost, and with a second renter it would earn an income. Plus, with my parents there I'd have someone to look in on the place more. And we did buy it, eventually I'd keep half unrented so that I have a place to come home to from Ireland or wherever when we visit. But, I guess I'm going to just have to let the dream go. It's so frustrating.
Now I'm having trouble with my tenant. Up until January she paid on time and without too much trouble, but apparently things got rough for her in the mean time. She had an accident that required surgery. Her roomate left his belongings in the house but moved and didn't pay his portion of rent. She lost her job. Her other roomate lost his job.
Naturally, she got behind on rent.
I called her several times to see what was going on, but only on Monday did she finally let me know what was going on. I offered her a deal (since I'm not particularly interested in trying to find a new renter). She's already paid last month's rent (April) but she owes part of January and all of February. I offered to take her deposit as one month's rent (March) and allow her to divide the remaining amount due between the 3 remaining months or pay all up front and remain there until the end of the lease. I was clear that she would need to either move in April or re-establish a deposit on a new contract. I also gave her the number of a friend who I know is hiring for her line of work.
It's now Wednesday and I haven't heard back from her. I'm not sure if any good deed goes unpunished. If I were her, I'd be jumping at the chance, or at least explain why it wouldn't work. If she's so broke she can't pay any rent at all she's going to have to figure something out. I'm giving her until the end of the week and then I'll give her 3 days notice that I'm filing an eviction notice. I don't want to, but if she doesn't respond I still have to pay the mortgage. Plus the sooner I get her out of the apartment the sooner I can start looking for a new renter.
The irony is that I've found a house in New York I'd love to buy...but I can't because I don't have a job. Gerd's looking into it, but he's so slow at the process. I'd rather rent a house out in New York than in New Mexico, so I'd be willing to sell, except that NM is our emergency plan. If I can't find a job or if he looses his job, I still have a job waiting in New Mexico for the upcoming school year.
The New York house is a duplex, with one half already rented out. While it wouldn't pay for the entire mortgate, it would pay for 75% of the cost, and with a second renter it would earn an income. Plus, with my parents there I'd have someone to look in on the place more. And we did buy it, eventually I'd keep half unrented so that I have a place to come home to from Ireland or wherever when we visit. But, I guess I'm going to just have to let the dream go. It's so frustrating.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Sugar Daddy
I finally got around to reading Sugar Daddy today. It was pretty much a lazy day and I didn't have anything better to do. I enjoyed the book, it had a nice slow pace and wasn't a typical romance novel. I could imagine that someday they'll make a Hallmark movie out of it.
The day, however, should have been spent more productively. I spent the first half looking for jobs in Denver. Gerd wasn't opposed to Colorado and they have more jobs there than in New Mexico, and my license should be easy to transfer. Boston has tons of IT jobs, but not any teacher jobs. New Mexico has my teacher job, but no IT jobs. Ireland doesn't have any jobs at all...
So I guess a nice book was about as good a way to relieve the stress of a job hunt as any. I've got All God's Children Need Traveling Shoes on my bedside table, but that just seemed too strenuous. So did the exercise bike I just set up. I bought a trainer for $20 with the idea that I could exercise inside during winter since I have nothing better to do.
But I'm back on the diet wagon. I want an ice cream sandwich so bad I can taste it. I try to tell myself that the imaginary taste should be good enough, but somehow it isn't. This really is my fault for not eating all my food today. I just couldn't stomach the thought of unsweetened oatmeal or plain vegetable broth.
So I'm off to bed with a glass of lemon water. Not the same as an ice cream sandwich at all. This sugar addiction is proving hard to beat. I kind of wonder what I'll do after the month is up. I don't want to go back to eating tons of sugar, but I can't possibly stand this diet for the rest of my life. I wonder what an acceptable amount of sugar is, or wheat for that matter.
I think I could give up drinking milk, but not cheese. Ice cream I would have to be able to have once in a while. Homemade ice cream in summer is one of my favorite things to do.
I could never give up bread for any length of time, but could do whole wheats (which I already do anyway). Pasta I could reduce, but not get rid of entirely. I already try to get the whole wheat pasta when I buy it.
Gerd and I don't eat out nearly as often as we used to, but still go out at least one night a week for our German language meetup (Stammtisch) and once a week for Irish dance. It's easier to control foods at home, but restaurants are tricky.
Oh well, I'm going to go kiss my sugar daddy goodnight and go to bed.
The day, however, should have been spent more productively. I spent the first half looking for jobs in Denver. Gerd wasn't opposed to Colorado and they have more jobs there than in New Mexico, and my license should be easy to transfer. Boston has tons of IT jobs, but not any teacher jobs. New Mexico has my teacher job, but no IT jobs. Ireland doesn't have any jobs at all...
So I guess a nice book was about as good a way to relieve the stress of a job hunt as any. I've got All God's Children Need Traveling Shoes on my bedside table, but that just seemed too strenuous. So did the exercise bike I just set up. I bought a trainer for $20 with the idea that I could exercise inside during winter since I have nothing better to do.
But I'm back on the diet wagon. I want an ice cream sandwich so bad I can taste it. I try to tell myself that the imaginary taste should be good enough, but somehow it isn't. This really is my fault for not eating all my food today. I just couldn't stomach the thought of unsweetened oatmeal or plain vegetable broth.
So I'm off to bed with a glass of lemon water. Not the same as an ice cream sandwich at all. This sugar addiction is proving hard to beat. I kind of wonder what I'll do after the month is up. I don't want to go back to eating tons of sugar, but I can't possibly stand this diet for the rest of my life. I wonder what an acceptable amount of sugar is, or wheat for that matter.
I think I could give up drinking milk, but not cheese. Ice cream I would have to be able to have once in a while. Homemade ice cream in summer is one of my favorite things to do.
I could never give up bread for any length of time, but could do whole wheats (which I already do anyway). Pasta I could reduce, but not get rid of entirely. I already try to get the whole wheat pasta when I buy it.
Gerd and I don't eat out nearly as often as we used to, but still go out at least one night a week for our German language meetup (Stammtisch) and once a week for Irish dance. It's easier to control foods at home, but restaurants are tricky.
Oh well, I'm going to go kiss my sugar daddy goodnight and go to bed.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
No KGB Bar Stories
We agreed to go home tonight instead of spending the full 3 day weekend in NYC so we could have a day at home before the work (laughing to self here) week begins...with the agreement that we would get up early and enjoy the WHOLE day in New York.
Gerd is not a morning person.
But, I have to admit, I'm not either (although not as bad as he is). So I wasn't too upset this morning when I heard Gerd hit the snooze button. Although we didn't leave the hotel until around 9, that's pretty good for us.
The only thing we'd decided we really wanted to do was have a nice breakfast, read the Times, and have a decent cup of coffee. Everything else, we decided, we could figure out after the caffeine kicked in. While it took us a while to find a paper (and once we did find a kiosk we found the one that was directly across the street from us from the start) breakfast was just as we planed it. Naturally I was off the diet as coffee cannot be consumed without sugar in my opinion.
We found a booklet in the hotel room with suggests for the city so I decided to make use of it. The first item of the day became Rizzoli's, a bookstore specializing in photography, art, literature, and international books (but that turned out to be false, all they had were Italian books). As far as bookstores go, Rizzoli's was an independent upscale dream of a store that we spent hours pouring over books of photographs in.
The Museum of Modern Art was a few blooks away, so we headed over to see what MoMA was all about. Turns out, MoMA is worth the $20. Most museums are by donation only, but MoMA had an actual set fee. We got through part of 2 floors in 4 hours. My favorite part was the Artist's Choice area, where the artist (can't remember his name) set up a rebus of art. Each piece of art was connected in some way to the piece before it, leading the viewer in a string of conciousness. Gerd liked the off the wall descriptions of the artwork. Newton has a huge red canvas on the wall...if you go, listen to the audio tour explanation. I'm paraphrasing here...Artists had already shocked society, Newton aimed to shock other artists...Artists were upset because it appeared that Newton's work could have been created by any ordinary house painter...It took years for art critics to distinguish that the red was actually several layers of reds.
The photography exhibition, describing the movement of pictoral art from woodblocking through the digital age was also enlightening. While I couldn't see the difference between some digital techniques, it was interesting to hear the methods of print.
We tried to fit the KGB bar into our schedule, but it didn't work. According to our booklet, the KGB bar is the ultimate literary establishment. I looked it up online too, and saw that the interior is supposed to be decorated in communist propaganda. Had we been able to stay longer there was a 7:00 fiction reading that sounded interesting, but that's the time our train was scheduled to leave. The doors were locked at 5:00 when we showed up, so I guess we'll have to go back next time.
Oh, but before I get away from New York, I've got to mention our evening in Brooklyn. A friend from New Mexico ran away to join the art scene and moved into an artist commune in Brooklyn. I thought I'd visit. One of her fellow artist commune members pointed us to Moto. Thank goodness she did. Honestly we never, ever would have found out about it unless someone mentioned that it existed. Literally, there's a solid metal door without a sign on it. If you know it's there, a classic Schwin bicycle is mounted from the roof. Inside two French singers serenaded the diners and we managed to get the last two seats in the house. Odd clocks and motors hung from the ceiling and were fixed on the walls, and the place was lit by candlelight. The food was very good, although not gourmet, but he wine was fabulous. Rose petals sprinkled the tables and the bar, and led the way down the stairs to the bathroom area. Gerd noticed that the Irish Declaration of the Free Government was posted on the basement door. I noticed the WC sign on the ladies room.
Things to See in New York
MET
MoMA
Rizolli's
Wicked
Central Park
Rockefeller Center viewing platform (Gerd's recommendation)
Places to Eat in New York
Pigalle (got us in even though we didn't have a reservation...fabulouse goat cheese salad)
Khyber Pass (Afghan food)
Moto (Brooklyn, but worth the trip)
Places to stay in New York
Brand Bed and Breakfast
I'll have to find the name of the other hotel later
Gerd is not a morning person.
But, I have to admit, I'm not either (although not as bad as he is). So I wasn't too upset this morning when I heard Gerd hit the snooze button. Although we didn't leave the hotel until around 9, that's pretty good for us.
The only thing we'd decided we really wanted to do was have a nice breakfast, read the Times, and have a decent cup of coffee. Everything else, we decided, we could figure out after the caffeine kicked in. While it took us a while to find a paper (and once we did find a kiosk we found the one that was directly across the street from us from the start) breakfast was just as we planed it. Naturally I was off the diet as coffee cannot be consumed without sugar in my opinion.
We found a booklet in the hotel room with suggests for the city so I decided to make use of it. The first item of the day became Rizzoli's, a bookstore specializing in photography, art, literature, and international books (but that turned out to be false, all they had were Italian books). As far as bookstores go, Rizzoli's was an independent upscale dream of a store that we spent hours pouring over books of photographs in.
The Museum of Modern Art was a few blooks away, so we headed over to see what MoMA was all about. Turns out, MoMA is worth the $20. Most museums are by donation only, but MoMA had an actual set fee. We got through part of 2 floors in 4 hours. My favorite part was the Artist's Choice area, where the artist (can't remember his name) set up a rebus of art. Each piece of art was connected in some way to the piece before it, leading the viewer in a string of conciousness. Gerd liked the off the wall descriptions of the artwork. Newton has a huge red canvas on the wall...if you go, listen to the audio tour explanation. I'm paraphrasing here...Artists had already shocked society, Newton aimed to shock other artists...Artists were upset because it appeared that Newton's work could have been created by any ordinary house painter...It took years for art critics to distinguish that the red was actually several layers of reds.
The photography exhibition, describing the movement of pictoral art from woodblocking through the digital age was also enlightening. While I couldn't see the difference between some digital techniques, it was interesting to hear the methods of print.
We tried to fit the KGB bar into our schedule, but it didn't work. According to our booklet, the KGB bar is the ultimate literary establishment. I looked it up online too, and saw that the interior is supposed to be decorated in communist propaganda. Had we been able to stay longer there was a 7:00 fiction reading that sounded interesting, but that's the time our train was scheduled to leave. The doors were locked at 5:00 when we showed up, so I guess we'll have to go back next time.
Oh, but before I get away from New York, I've got to mention our evening in Brooklyn. A friend from New Mexico ran away to join the art scene and moved into an artist commune in Brooklyn. I thought I'd visit. One of her fellow artist commune members pointed us to Moto. Thank goodness she did. Honestly we never, ever would have found out about it unless someone mentioned that it existed. Literally, there's a solid metal door without a sign on it. If you know it's there, a classic Schwin bicycle is mounted from the roof. Inside two French singers serenaded the diners and we managed to get the last two seats in the house. Odd clocks and motors hung from the ceiling and were fixed on the walls, and the place was lit by candlelight. The food was very good, although not gourmet, but he wine was fabulous. Rose petals sprinkled the tables and the bar, and led the way down the stairs to the bathroom area. Gerd noticed that the Irish Declaration of the Free Government was posted on the basement door. I noticed the WC sign on the ladies room.
Things to See in New York
MET
MoMA
Rizolli's
Wicked
Central Park
Rockefeller Center viewing platform (Gerd's recommendation)
Places to Eat in New York
Pigalle (got us in even though we didn't have a reservation...fabulouse goat cheese salad)
Khyber Pass (Afghan food)
Moto (Brooklyn, but worth the trip)
Places to stay in New York
Brand Bed and Breakfast
I'll have to find the name of the other hotel later
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Wicked
So despite the death cold, Gerd and I booked my Christmas tickets. Over Christmas I thought that Gerd, the ultimate last minute shopper, hadn't planned out my gift. I was gladly wrong...although he did print out the IOU for Wicked tickets a few minutes before the gift giving.
I told him Valentines Day could be a good time to use them. So my gift for Valentines Day is an unusual Bed and Breakfast located on the border of Chelsea and Greenwich Village. I'm the one who found it, so I was a little concered as we climbed the stairs to our room. Genteel poverty is a word that comes to mind. Obviously the owners have a tight budget.
But, I think this place is quite a find. The room itself, or rather, apartment, was decorated by our host, an interier designer from France who took on the project for free housing and a second income. There isn't a common room or any homey atmosphere at all. Instead the "rooms" are actually small apartments. We have a kitchen, living room with a fireplace, and bedroom which overlooks the neighborhood gardens, which, I might add, are furnished entirely by IKEA. She's a creative decorator though, the refrigerator and dishwasher have been painted silver to appear like stainless steel, and the lavendar and plum walls are incredibly cheerful.
My experiences with hotels in New York have been worse. When Mom and I came to NYC to see Man a la Macha we found a "hotel" that was painted 4 shades of pink, with patterned pink carpet, two sets of bunk beds, and one full bed, located in the garmet district. I still think it should have been booked as a hostel. When Devon and I came to visit the city our hostel had a plastic matress protector that crinkled every time we moved. And, laying down with his feet sticking out the end of the bed, his toes could touch the wall opposite the headboard.
Gerd and I were last here in November for his birthday, to see Stomp and explore. That hotel wasn't bad either, although I can't remember the name right now. It was only $160/night, convenient to Times Square, and looked like an ordinary hotel room. This one is $175/night and lovely. I'm not quitesure which one I prefer though. This one is larger (and it's got a kitchen), but it feels like I'm house sitting for a tidy college student who's away for the weekend.
My diet, of course, lasted until we arrived at Grand Central Station at 11:00 and our choices were sandwiches or starving. I'm not allowed the bread but didn't have it in me to pick the thing apart and eat it with my hands. I forgot my vitamins anyway.
So I guess I'll try to stick with some of the plan (no sugar, wheat, or dairy) but I'm not going to be upset if I can't find anything that fits the plan exactly. And, if I see a desert I want tonight I'm going for it. New York's close, but not an every day experience and I hope we find somewhere as good as last time.
I told him Valentines Day could be a good time to use them. So my gift for Valentines Day is an unusual Bed and Breakfast located on the border of Chelsea and Greenwich Village. I'm the one who found it, so I was a little concered as we climbed the stairs to our room. Genteel poverty is a word that comes to mind. Obviously the owners have a tight budget.
But, I think this place is quite a find. The room itself, or rather, apartment, was decorated by our host, an interier designer from France who took on the project for free housing and a second income. There isn't a common room or any homey atmosphere at all. Instead the "rooms" are actually small apartments. We have a kitchen, living room with a fireplace, and bedroom which overlooks the neighborhood gardens, which, I might add, are furnished entirely by IKEA. She's a creative decorator though, the refrigerator and dishwasher have been painted silver to appear like stainless steel, and the lavendar and plum walls are incredibly cheerful.
My experiences with hotels in New York have been worse. When Mom and I came to NYC to see Man a la Macha we found a "hotel" that was painted 4 shades of pink, with patterned pink carpet, two sets of bunk beds, and one full bed, located in the garmet district. I still think it should have been booked as a hostel. When Devon and I came to visit the city our hostel had a plastic matress protector that crinkled every time we moved. And, laying down with his feet sticking out the end of the bed, his toes could touch the wall opposite the headboard.
Gerd and I were last here in November for his birthday, to see Stomp and explore. That hotel wasn't bad either, although I can't remember the name right now. It was only $160/night, convenient to Times Square, and looked like an ordinary hotel room. This one is $175/night and lovely. I'm not quitesure which one I prefer though. This one is larger (and it's got a kitchen), but it feels like I'm house sitting for a tidy college student who's away for the weekend.
My diet, of course, lasted until we arrived at Grand Central Station at 11:00 and our choices were sandwiches or starving. I'm not allowed the bread but didn't have it in me to pick the thing apart and eat it with my hands. I forgot my vitamins anyway.
So I guess I'll try to stick with some of the plan (no sugar, wheat, or dairy) but I'm not going to be upset if I can't find anything that fits the plan exactly. And, if I see a desert I want tonight I'm going for it. New York's close, but not an every day experience and I hope we find somewhere as good as last time.
Friday, February 13, 2009
The Color Blue
My mind works in a strange connected reality existence way.
I woke up this morning thinking about what I was going to do for the day. I've got tons of chores to do, laundry that's piled up, paperwork to complete, and material to find a place for in an already cramped closet. So..my fabric made me think of the color blue (since I have a huge piece of blue brocade I don't know what to do with) and how much Gerd likes blue.
Marlon liked blue too. Okay, more than liked. If he bought something new there was a 99% chance it would either be blue or have blue somewhere in or on it. If apples came in a blue or an orange bag, he was sure to chose the blue bag, regardless of the apples.
Both Marlon and Gerd are actually a lot alike.
Both:
like blue
are computer programmers
are quiet men
are somewhat like my father, but have elements of my step-father as well (Marlon-Photography, Gerd-neat freak..well sort of)
Certainly there are differences, and on paper Marlon sounds like the better man. He's religious, has similar goals to mine, a similar cultural upbringing, etc. I've already realized though that Gerd is the better man for me.
But that got me to thinking about what I've been looking for in guys over the years. Has everyone I seriously dated had the same qualities? What was I looking for?
I thought of Matt, my first boyfriend in college and tried to remember if he liked the color blue. I'm pretty sure red was his favorite color. When I think back to Matt I remember feeling overwhelmed by his intensity. I remember wanting him to be happy, and for a while I thought he was. But he was so intense, he never stayed happy long, and he drug me down with him for a while. Later I would see him again, happy and think that we could be happy together then, only to discover than when we tried we sank back down again. I felt like our connection would never fail, even if we went other ways. I was wrong.
I felt that same connection with Devon. I'm not sure what went wrong there. I know that I no longer love him. Finally. Perhaps I loved him too much at the time. Perhaps as Matt is to me, I was to him. I don't know. I honestly thought I would die when we split up. In a way I think a part of me did.
So this intensity... I don't trust it. I don't know what it was, but I suspect it's a flaw within my own character. A manic that is often concealed by relationships or political views, or flurry of religion.
I didn't feel manic for Marlon, although I did love him. It never seemed deep enough because of its lack of intensity.
I seem to have lost some of my intensity in the war. I count that as one benefit. I still feel happy, sad, confused, scared, but the passion of my youth seems to have faded. There is some shelter in numbness. For others I would say it's bad to be numb, but for me, who felt everything so brightly, it's like sunglasses when you really need them.
When I returned from war I fell in love with Hamish. But did I really fall in love? I think love was more of a decision with him. He was intense and broken, and so was I. It was stormy and difficult, but I learned to love again. Or perhaps I learned to love for the first time..outside of the intensity of the feeling of love. I still love him, enough to know we couldn't suit forever.
I don't feel manic about Gerd. Instead I feel content. I've never felt content before and I'm not sure what to do with it. It's like I've got a life saver in my mouth and I'm trying so hard not to chew it up and just enjoy the taste.
I want Gerd to marry me, but the reasons I've wanted him to marry me aren't the right ones. I'm worried about his visa, I want to feel financially secure, I want my family to be relieved that we're no longer living together while unwedded, I want to have children soon.
So am I really content? If not, what is this? I'm not sure I understand love, at least with sunglasses on. But I think I'm happy. What a strange feeling, and something I've chased after my whole life.
I woke up this morning thinking about what I was going to do for the day. I've got tons of chores to do, laundry that's piled up, paperwork to complete, and material to find a place for in an already cramped closet. So..my fabric made me think of the color blue (since I have a huge piece of blue brocade I don't know what to do with) and how much Gerd likes blue.
Marlon liked blue too. Okay, more than liked. If he bought something new there was a 99% chance it would either be blue or have blue somewhere in or on it. If apples came in a blue or an orange bag, he was sure to chose the blue bag, regardless of the apples.
Both Marlon and Gerd are actually a lot alike.
Both:
like blue
are computer programmers
are quiet men
are somewhat like my father, but have elements of my step-father as well (Marlon-Photography, Gerd-neat freak..well sort of)
Certainly there are differences, and on paper Marlon sounds like the better man. He's religious, has similar goals to mine, a similar cultural upbringing, etc. I've already realized though that Gerd is the better man for me.
But that got me to thinking about what I've been looking for in guys over the years. Has everyone I seriously dated had the same qualities? What was I looking for?
I thought of Matt, my first boyfriend in college and tried to remember if he liked the color blue. I'm pretty sure red was his favorite color. When I think back to Matt I remember feeling overwhelmed by his intensity. I remember wanting him to be happy, and for a while I thought he was. But he was so intense, he never stayed happy long, and he drug me down with him for a while. Later I would see him again, happy and think that we could be happy together then, only to discover than when we tried we sank back down again. I felt like our connection would never fail, even if we went other ways. I was wrong.
I felt that same connection with Devon. I'm not sure what went wrong there. I know that I no longer love him. Finally. Perhaps I loved him too much at the time. Perhaps as Matt is to me, I was to him. I don't know. I honestly thought I would die when we split up. In a way I think a part of me did.
So this intensity... I don't trust it. I don't know what it was, but I suspect it's a flaw within my own character. A manic that is often concealed by relationships or political views, or flurry of religion.
I didn't feel manic for Marlon, although I did love him. It never seemed deep enough because of its lack of intensity.
I seem to have lost some of my intensity in the war. I count that as one benefit. I still feel happy, sad, confused, scared, but the passion of my youth seems to have faded. There is some shelter in numbness. For others I would say it's bad to be numb, but for me, who felt everything so brightly, it's like sunglasses when you really need them.
When I returned from war I fell in love with Hamish. But did I really fall in love? I think love was more of a decision with him. He was intense and broken, and so was I. It was stormy and difficult, but I learned to love again. Or perhaps I learned to love for the first time..outside of the intensity of the feeling of love. I still love him, enough to know we couldn't suit forever.
I don't feel manic about Gerd. Instead I feel content. I've never felt content before and I'm not sure what to do with it. It's like I've got a life saver in my mouth and I'm trying so hard not to chew it up and just enjoy the taste.
I want Gerd to marry me, but the reasons I've wanted him to marry me aren't the right ones. I'm worried about his visa, I want to feel financially secure, I want my family to be relieved that we're no longer living together while unwedded, I want to have children soon.
So am I really content? If not, what is this? I'm not sure I understand love, at least with sunglasses on. But I think I'm happy. What a strange feeling, and something I've chased after my whole life.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Sick of Being Sick
So I caught this cold last weekend right before my SCA weekend. Nasty sinus thing resulting in headaches, drainage, and generally wanting to die. For the first few days I felt mostly fine during the day but last night it all went into superhorribleness.
I'm not sure if my diet is weakening my immune system or if it would have gotten worse anyway. I'm feeling slightly better halfway through the day, but that seems to be the way this thing works. Feel crummy in the morning until my nose drains, okay during the day, and terrible right before bed.
It's been almost a full week now, but one of my friends here told me to expect the post nasal drip for at least 3 weeks. I missed my volunteer day today, but tomorrow I'm supposed to take a group of GED students to see The Rivalry, a (partial) reenactment of the Lincoln Douglas debates at the Old State House and I really don't want to miss it.
Okay, now I'm just winning.
I'm not sure if my diet is weakening my immune system or if it would have gotten worse anyway. I'm feeling slightly better halfway through the day, but that seems to be the way this thing works. Feel crummy in the morning until my nose drains, okay during the day, and terrible right before bed.
It's been almost a full week now, but one of my friends here told me to expect the post nasal drip for at least 3 weeks. I missed my volunteer day today, but tomorrow I'm supposed to take a group of GED students to see The Rivalry, a (partial) reenactment of the Lincoln Douglas debates at the Old State House and I really don't want to miss it.
Okay, now I'm just winning.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Day 2
Yesterday I started a no wheat, no sugar, no dairy diet.
I. really. really. want. a. glass. of. milk.
The idea is this: I'm a sugar addict. Deprive myself of sugar and most foods that break down into sugars to try to kick the habit. My plan is only to do this for a month and then introduce some sugars/whole wheats back into the diet.
I'm roughly following a diet a friend in New Mexico gave me that her doctor/nutritionist gave to her and also a diet from a book I've been reading about Eastern medicine. While it does have *some* sugar, overall, it's minimal.
It goes like this:
Glass of lemon water before breakfast with vitamins
Breakfast is oatmeal with unsweetened soy milk and tea
1st snack is broth and a glass of tomato juice
Lunch: Barley/Kale/Onion/ 1/2 carrot/broth/fungus (umm, yummy mushrooms) bake
2nd snack, one sliced apple
Dinner: Chicken with 1/2 cup brown rice with vegetables
Before bed tea
Tomorrow I'm having the leftover chicken for lunch and making split pea soup for dinner. I'm trying to avoid meat twice in a day but I think the amount in the soup will be small. I really don't like the broth or the vegetable juice but figure I need the nutrients so I'm forcing them down so far. I don't really miss sweets yet, just milk, cheese, and butter. I don't ever really miss bread yet (which surprises me because I've given up sugar before and that was the first thing I missed).
I. really. really. want. a. glass. of. milk.
The idea is this: I'm a sugar addict. Deprive myself of sugar and most foods that break down into sugars to try to kick the habit. My plan is only to do this for a month and then introduce some sugars/whole wheats back into the diet.
I'm roughly following a diet a friend in New Mexico gave me that her doctor/nutritionist gave to her and also a diet from a book I've been reading about Eastern medicine. While it does have *some* sugar, overall, it's minimal.
It goes like this:
Glass of lemon water before breakfast with vitamins
Breakfast is oatmeal with unsweetened soy milk and tea
1st snack is broth and a glass of tomato juice
Lunch: Barley/Kale/Onion/ 1/2 carrot/broth/fungus (umm, yummy mushrooms) bake
2nd snack, one sliced apple
Dinner: Chicken with 1/2 cup brown rice with vegetables
Before bed tea
Tomorrow I'm having the leftover chicken for lunch and making split pea soup for dinner. I'm trying to avoid meat twice in a day but I think the amount in the soup will be small. I really don't like the broth or the vegetable juice but figure I need the nutrients so I'm forcing them down so far. I don't really miss sweets yet, just milk, cheese, and butter. I don't ever really miss bread yet (which surprises me because I've given up sugar before and that was the first thing I missed).
Monday, February 9, 2009
Sewing
My grandmother was an excellent seamstress. She learned to sew and alter to help the family though a tight budget, which was fairly typical of poor southern bells in the 1950s. I don't think she ever took jobs on, but I could be wrong about that. Mostly she just made sure my aunt was well dressed and fashionable. Beauty was cultivated and admired in her house.
I didn't sew until I started to play SCA. Grandma had taught me a few tricks while growing up, but we moved away before 8th grade and she had a stroke shortly before that, so my lessons never progressed beyond simple hems and small projects. With her help I made a pair of shorts when I was probably 10, and I remember she made book covers from fabric for all of my school books in 3rd or 4th grade.
In the SCA I began sewing without patterns. At the time costume patterns were fairly scarce although they were becoming more popular. I learned T-tunics and pants and how to sew on trim to make it look a little better. Eventually we moved on to skirts and simple bodices. Before I left New Mexico I was onto Persian coats and Scottish dresses.
But I haven't sewn for probably 4 years. I decided to take Gerd to an SCA event in New York, a feast with dancing, that would be a small but comfortable first SCA experience. I must have put together and torn apart my chimis at least 4 times. The arms were cut out too high, the neckline non-existant, my sleave seams ended up on top instead of on bottom. Then the seams were inside out...twice.
Although my skirt and overskirt went fairly well (good since I came down with a head cold while doing all of this) I ended up leaving the bodice for my mother to do. It was supposed to be "help with" but she pretty much took over, for which I was incredibly thankful. We (she) finished it the day of the event, I put it on and drove to the feast. Halfway through the bodice I almost cried uncle and cancelled the outing.
Thankfully we made it. Practice dance sessions and a stuffed fox dressing contest ran until feast. I even got Gerd to dance a few with me (his garb was so much easier than mine). I then dressed up my fox (for which I won second price) even though I was sick of sewing by then. It much easier to sew an outfit for a stuffed animal when you don't have to worry about poking them or actually being able to take the outfit off again...
Kids had their own category of fox dressing compeition (which turned out so cute!) and they were given a "bingo" card where they had to find people that matched criteria on their cards...i.e. find a guy with a pony tail, find someone who had an SCA wedding, find someone for whom this is their first event, and so on. I thought it was a good idea.
The feast itself was fabulous! Five removes (courses of course) with dessert. In the past I've been to feasts that were terrible. Cooking medieval foods for over 100 people (and serving it all warm) takes a pretty talented chef I think, and I've never seen it run so smoothly before.
Lets see if I can remember what we had:
1st Remove:
Cheese & Fruit plate
Baked Brie in a pastry
Bread
2nd Remove:
A hole roasted chicken (for a table of 6-8) with rosemary sauce with a grape stuffing
Rice pilaf
creamed peas
Third Remove
Lamb
Medeival Lasagna (homemade noodles with cheese)
Spinach Pancakes
Kidney Beans
Fourth Remove
Pies of Paris (meat pie with chicken I think...kind of like a pot pie but better)
Spinach w/ Raspberry Vinaigrette
Chick Pea Garlic Thing (really the only horrible thing served...tasted like eating a whole garlic)
Crescent Rolls
Fifth Remove (dessert)
Homemade marzipan
Rice pudding
Chocolate cake (store bought, I don't know why)
Rice crispie treats (made into a huge castle that we disassembled and ate)
Eating took about 2 1/2 hours or so and then they had the ball. We didn't dance much the second time...mostly because they didn't call the steps and I didn't know many of the dances, but also because we were still stuffed. We did dance the Korabushka which was tons of fun and a nice end for our day.
I didn't sew until I started to play SCA. Grandma had taught me a few tricks while growing up, but we moved away before 8th grade and she had a stroke shortly before that, so my lessons never progressed beyond simple hems and small projects. With her help I made a pair of shorts when I was probably 10, and I remember she made book covers from fabric for all of my school books in 3rd or 4th grade.
In the SCA I began sewing without patterns. At the time costume patterns were fairly scarce although they were becoming more popular. I learned T-tunics and pants and how to sew on trim to make it look a little better. Eventually we moved on to skirts and simple bodices. Before I left New Mexico I was onto Persian coats and Scottish dresses.
But I haven't sewn for probably 4 years. I decided to take Gerd to an SCA event in New York, a feast with dancing, that would be a small but comfortable first SCA experience. I must have put together and torn apart my chimis at least 4 times. The arms were cut out too high, the neckline non-existant, my sleave seams ended up on top instead of on bottom. Then the seams were inside out...twice.
Although my skirt and overskirt went fairly well (good since I came down with a head cold while doing all of this) I ended up leaving the bodice for my mother to do. It was supposed to be "help with" but she pretty much took over, for which I was incredibly thankful. We (she) finished it the day of the event, I put it on and drove to the feast. Halfway through the bodice I almost cried uncle and cancelled the outing.
Thankfully we made it. Practice dance sessions and a stuffed fox dressing contest ran until feast. I even got Gerd to dance a few with me (his garb was so much easier than mine). I then dressed up my fox (for which I won second price) even though I was sick of sewing by then. It much easier to sew an outfit for a stuffed animal when you don't have to worry about poking them or actually being able to take the outfit off again...
Kids had their own category of fox dressing compeition (which turned out so cute!) and they were given a "bingo" card where they had to find people that matched criteria on their cards...i.e. find a guy with a pony tail, find someone who had an SCA wedding, find someone for whom this is their first event, and so on. I thought it was a good idea.
The feast itself was fabulous! Five removes (courses of course) with dessert. In the past I've been to feasts that were terrible. Cooking medieval foods for over 100 people (and serving it all warm) takes a pretty talented chef I think, and I've never seen it run so smoothly before.
Lets see if I can remember what we had:
1st Remove:
Cheese & Fruit plate
Baked Brie in a pastry
Bread
2nd Remove:
A hole roasted chicken (for a table of 6-8) with rosemary sauce with a grape stuffing
Rice pilaf
creamed peas
Third Remove
Lamb
Medeival Lasagna (homemade noodles with cheese)
Spinach Pancakes
Kidney Beans
Fourth Remove
Pies of Paris (meat pie with chicken I think...kind of like a pot pie but better)
Spinach w/ Raspberry Vinaigrette
Chick Pea Garlic Thing (really the only horrible thing served...tasted like eating a whole garlic)
Crescent Rolls
Fifth Remove (dessert)
Homemade marzipan
Rice pudding
Chocolate cake (store bought, I don't know why)
Rice crispie treats (made into a huge castle that we disassembled and ate)
Eating took about 2 1/2 hours or so and then they had the ball. We didn't dance much the second time...mostly because they didn't call the steps and I didn't know many of the dances, but also because we were still stuffed. We did dance the Korabushka which was tons of fun and a nice end for our day.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Some Figures
Okay, so back to the baby-crazed octuplet mother...
Apparently she received $165,000 in DISABILITY over the last 6 years. That means she got hurt so bad she couldn't work...but could have babies which are so much easier on your back.
That breaks down to $27,500 per year.
Now, the sperm donor was a friend, so we're going to calculate that the sperm was free. IVF could possibly cost only $5,000/per cycle with that in mind.
I believe I heard mention that two of her children are twins, so that makes 6 cycles if all of them took.
The press identified a nanny outside of her home. If that nanny worked for her, we have to assume she would earn no less than $1000 a month watching 6 children. Since mom isn't working, that could be too high..perhaps only $500/month for part time work. I think these calculations are low, but it may also be unlikely that she's receiving nanny services.
If you add this all up:
$27,500 a year
$5000 a year in IVF
$6,000 to $12,000 a year in nanny fees
That leave a monthly income of $875 - $1375
Okay, I have to add back in $5000/year because she's done with IVF.
$1,291 to $1,791 per month
To house, feed, and diaper 14 children.
I suppose it can be done. If her parents allow her to live rent free in their house she could do it. I doubt she could otherwise unless someone gave her a house for free. Food alone will take up most of the budget. Diapers, unless she uses washable and uses her parents washing machine will take up a huge chunk.
I'm still mad that she gets to do this in our society. I do not want my tax dollars supporting this woman in any way, and yet I'm guessing it's going to happen at some point. Yes I believe the government should step in and help people who need help. The problem is...where do we draw the line? This woman made choices that creating the problem...but isn't that the case in other circumstances too?
I believe in showing compassion to people regardless of their circumstance, but that doesn't mean I think tax dollars should be a free for all. Perhaps this question is more a statement of my own confusion over political ideology. It's really the same question as national healthcare, prison reform, the educational system, and the bailout. At what point do we hold people responsible for their own actions and at what point should our government intervene to show compassion?
Apparently she received $165,000 in DISABILITY over the last 6 years. That means she got hurt so bad she couldn't work...but could have babies which are so much easier on your back.
That breaks down to $27,500 per year.
Now, the sperm donor was a friend, so we're going to calculate that the sperm was free. IVF could possibly cost only $5,000/per cycle with that in mind.
I believe I heard mention that two of her children are twins, so that makes 6 cycles if all of them took.
The press identified a nanny outside of her home. If that nanny worked for her, we have to assume she would earn no less than $1000 a month watching 6 children. Since mom isn't working, that could be too high..perhaps only $500/month for part time work. I think these calculations are low, but it may also be unlikely that she's receiving nanny services.
If you add this all up:
$27,500 a year
$5000 a year in IVF
$6,000 to $12,000 a year in nanny fees
That leave a monthly income of $875 - $1375
Okay, I have to add back in $5000/year because she's done with IVF.
$1,291 to $1,791 per month
To house, feed, and diaper 14 children.
I suppose it can be done. If her parents allow her to live rent free in their house she could do it. I doubt she could otherwise unless someone gave her a house for free. Food alone will take up most of the budget. Diapers, unless she uses washable and uses her parents washing machine will take up a huge chunk.
I'm still mad that she gets to do this in our society. I do not want my tax dollars supporting this woman in any way, and yet I'm guessing it's going to happen at some point. Yes I believe the government should step in and help people who need help. The problem is...where do we draw the line? This woman made choices that creating the problem...but isn't that the case in other circumstances too?
I believe in showing compassion to people regardless of their circumstance, but that doesn't mean I think tax dollars should be a free for all. Perhaps this question is more a statement of my own confusion over political ideology. It's really the same question as national healthcare, prison reform, the educational system, and the bailout. At what point do we hold people responsible for their own actions and at what point should our government intervene to show compassion?
Official Diagnosis
My counselor called to give me her bill. I've actually been waiting on this for a month now so I can submit it to our insurance company. Apparently I have a choice of diagnosises. No idea how you pluralize diagnosis. Anyway, I can either have PTSD or Generalized Anxiety Disorder. My pick. Whoopie. I told her to put whatever would be best for the insurance to have...PTSD it is.
Now before you think, why the hell are you putting that on the web...the reason I'm writing on the web is a form of therapy for me. I can't very well hide the fact that fireworks make me cry or that I panic under extreme stress or crowded places. For me, acknowledging that something isn't right has been a long struggle.
I'm not even sure it started with the war.
I first went to a counselor when I got my first apartment and couldn't seem to keep it clean. I actually burst into tears talking to my mother one day when she was giving me a hard time about the mess. I screamed at her, "I don't want to clean my room". Why? I like a clean house, why didn't I want to clean my house? Why did cleaning make me cry?
I had one session with a counselor, and it was probably the best session I've ever had. I wish I'd gone back. I wish I remembered her name or had her card. I never, ever would have thought that other children with single mothers would have low self esteem. Apparently it's quite common. Children who "raise" their parents fail. They can't take care of the emotional needs of their parents and grow up trying to control life and be a perfect person. They want to please people. My mother, who I love very much, has an anxiety disorder herself and didn't get help until I was in middle school.
Is that a catch all? No. Just knowing that there might be a reason that I was a mess that wasn't my fault opened my mind to the possibility of becoming a better, stronger person.
What it does show is that I was probably more vulnerable than most when I went to Iraq. The irony is that it took me years to build up my esteem, I'd say I still struggle, and now I have to deal with anxiety and stress.
I think I've got a pretty good attitude about it all. Some people come back from war without limbs, others come back seriously emotionally damaged. I have a minor case of PTSD with possibly minor traumatic brain injury. I'm trying to figure out how to live with the new me. It's a very scary future because it doesn't really go away. I have good days and bad days, but mostly good days.
Now before you think, why the hell are you putting that on the web...the reason I'm writing on the web is a form of therapy for me. I can't very well hide the fact that fireworks make me cry or that I panic under extreme stress or crowded places. For me, acknowledging that something isn't right has been a long struggle.
I'm not even sure it started with the war.
I first went to a counselor when I got my first apartment and couldn't seem to keep it clean. I actually burst into tears talking to my mother one day when she was giving me a hard time about the mess. I screamed at her, "I don't want to clean my room". Why? I like a clean house, why didn't I want to clean my house? Why did cleaning make me cry?
I had one session with a counselor, and it was probably the best session I've ever had. I wish I'd gone back. I wish I remembered her name or had her card. I never, ever would have thought that other children with single mothers would have low self esteem. Apparently it's quite common. Children who "raise" their parents fail. They can't take care of the emotional needs of their parents and grow up trying to control life and be a perfect person. They want to please people. My mother, who I love very much, has an anxiety disorder herself and didn't get help until I was in middle school.
Is that a catch all? No. Just knowing that there might be a reason that I was a mess that wasn't my fault opened my mind to the possibility of becoming a better, stronger person.
What it does show is that I was probably more vulnerable than most when I went to Iraq. The irony is that it took me years to build up my esteem, I'd say I still struggle, and now I have to deal with anxiety and stress.
I think I've got a pretty good attitude about it all. Some people come back from war without limbs, others come back seriously emotionally damaged. I have a minor case of PTSD with possibly minor traumatic brain injury. I'm trying to figure out how to live with the new me. It's a very scary future because it doesn't really go away. I have good days and bad days, but mostly good days.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Free Rice!
Since I can't find a job I've volunteered to work with adults in a GED prep program. In the morning I tested a 59 year old woman on her reading fluency, then worked with a single mother of 6 from Egypt. In the afternoon I worked with a group on writing a 5 paragraph essay, with varying results. All in all it was a great day, I loved it. Not everyone was on fire to learn, but they wanted to be there and were ready to work.
After working with the students the full time teacher directed me to a vocab web site he uses with his students. Okay, totally addicted. Not only do I get to practice high level vocabulary (that I thought I'd been losing) but I can practice a few German and Spanish words (not too in depth, but still fun) AND the site donates grains of rice to developing countries for every correct answer. So, basically you can feel good about all that time wasted on the computer :)
http://www.freerice.com/
After working with the students the full time teacher directed me to a vocab web site he uses with his students. Okay, totally addicted. Not only do I get to practice high level vocabulary (that I thought I'd been losing) but I can practice a few German and Spanish words (not too in depth, but still fun) AND the site donates grains of rice to developing countries for every correct answer. So, basically you can feel good about all that time wasted on the computer :)
http://www.freerice.com/
300 Applicants
I called to follow up on a resume, and found out there are 300 applicants for one of the only four temporary Social Studies positions within the Boston Metro area. What that means is that I will not get the job. In Boston you have to have all of your college transcripts, copies of your certificate, actual letters of reference (not just names and numbers) when you apply for jobs. I'm working on getting everything together, but I don't have it. Unless the 300 are terrible choices (which is unlikely) I don't stand a chance.
What that means for the future is that there are *already* at least 300 teachers looking for a Social Studies position for the upcoming year. That doesn't include anyone who might not have applied or any of the upcoming education graduates who will also be looking for a job. Including districts in or around Boston, I'm guessing that perhaps 50 Social Studies jobs will become available for the upcoming year. I could be one that gets a job, but that's pretty darn competitive.
What I would really need to do would be to substitute teach for a district I want to work with. I've been substituting for a private school that will probably keep all of their teachers for the upcoming year, or loose elementary teachers which I'm not yet qualified for. I don't regret working with this school, it's restored my belief in education, but it hasn't helped me network for the upcoming school year.
But it's not too late to substitute for other districts, right. Wrong. The district I called has already added 100 new substitutes to their substitute list. Even if I were to ask to be added, gone out to schools to network, etc., I would see very little time within a classroom, likely too little to draw the notice of a hiring principal. I suppose I could be more aggressive, but I don't think teaching should be a cut throat occupation.
So this means another full year of substitute work with the possibility of a long term sub position in the spring of next year. Sure, it could be better than that, but it's unlikely. What I can do is take the elementary certification test to expand my qualifications. I don't know the situation with that, but it might be a little better. Since I have no experience in an elementary classroom I would most likely spend some time substituting anyway, although I could specifically request to work with the lower grades at the school I'm working with now.
Anyway, my job search isn't going very well right now...Ah well, off to my volunteer job (working with adults trying to get their GED). At least I know I can stay busy, even if I'm not getting paid.
What that means for the future is that there are *already* at least 300 teachers looking for a Social Studies position for the upcoming year. That doesn't include anyone who might not have applied or any of the upcoming education graduates who will also be looking for a job. Including districts in or around Boston, I'm guessing that perhaps 50 Social Studies jobs will become available for the upcoming year. I could be one that gets a job, but that's pretty darn competitive.
What I would really need to do would be to substitute teach for a district I want to work with. I've been substituting for a private school that will probably keep all of their teachers for the upcoming year, or loose elementary teachers which I'm not yet qualified for. I don't regret working with this school, it's restored my belief in education, but it hasn't helped me network for the upcoming school year.
But it's not too late to substitute for other districts, right. Wrong. The district I called has already added 100 new substitutes to their substitute list. Even if I were to ask to be added, gone out to schools to network, etc., I would see very little time within a classroom, likely too little to draw the notice of a hiring principal. I suppose I could be more aggressive, but I don't think teaching should be a cut throat occupation.
So this means another full year of substitute work with the possibility of a long term sub position in the spring of next year. Sure, it could be better than that, but it's unlikely. What I can do is take the elementary certification test to expand my qualifications. I don't know the situation with that, but it might be a little better. Since I have no experience in an elementary classroom I would most likely spend some time substituting anyway, although I could specifically request to work with the lower grades at the school I'm working with now.
Anyway, my job search isn't going very well right now...Ah well, off to my volunteer job (working with adults trying to get their GED). At least I know I can stay busy, even if I'm not getting paid.
Monday, February 2, 2009
14 Children
So a woman has 8 children from IVF although she lives with her PARENTS with her *6* other kids, doesn't have a job or source of income, and says she plans on making millions by talking on the Oprah Winfrey show.
I don't know what should happen here. If I were Oprah Winfrey I sure wouldn't give her an interview. I'd deliberately snub her for her irresponsibility.
But the question is, who's going to support this woman? Is there some private organization that will donate a house, food, diapers, clothes and toys? The previous octuplets had a 5 bedroom house donated by Fannie May, but there were no previous children, and the company was doing a whole lot better back then.
And there's also the medical side of things. These types of procedures are typically not covered by insurance. How the heck did an unworking mother pay for IVF? Even with a sperm donor an IVF cycle can cost $10,000- $20,000. Those babies are going to need a bunch of check-ups too.
If there isn't a group that's willing to step in and help, what will happen to these babies? If the mother can't afford her children will the foster system step in and take them away? I think it would be pretty horrible for her if in trying to have more children she lost all of her children.
I understand, once you have 8 living embryos in your body, believing that you shouldn't abort some. It's a matter of your view on life and when it begins, and although I don't particularly agree with the view (particularly as early as blasts attaching to the uteris), I know I've been an avid believer in pro-life principles in the past.
What I don't understand is if she made any arrangements ahead of time to receive help or if she just assumed that her popularity would provide for her children. If I ended up in that situation, although I wouldn't, because I don't already have 6 children, I would either have kept a smaller number of embryos or found adoptive homes for some of the children. Surely she must have known public sentiment would not be in her favor on this.
But there's something is fishy about this whole story, including the number of embryos implanted. I suppose it's possible that they implanted 4 and every one split. That wouldn't sound too extreme if they were older frozen blasts that didn't have a good chance for survival. Still, even 4 would be a lot. The excuse that she didn't want to destroy the blasts is complete horse shit because there are many ways to donate embryos or set up embryotic adoption.
I came within one month of an embryotic adoption. I actually paid the fees for an embryotic match at embryosalive.com, but my doctor wanted to use donated embryos from his clinic instead. I found a donor, I went through preliminary tests, but there was concern that I might have a heart shaped uteris. Another test was ordered that I needed to wait an additional month for. I had to schedule a test within a three day period and missed the test date, so I had to wait another month. That's when the Army told me I was likely to go to Afghanistan. I worked out a deal to come to Boston and saw a clinic here. If I hadn't met Gerd I would probably be a mother by now.
I suppose that's why I must care about this topic as much as I do. People are irresponsible all the time. People do stupid things all the time. I mean, that's why the Darwin Awards were created right? I just hope those babies have a safe, happy upbringing, wherever they grow up.
I don't know what should happen here. If I were Oprah Winfrey I sure wouldn't give her an interview. I'd deliberately snub her for her irresponsibility.
But the question is, who's going to support this woman? Is there some private organization that will donate a house, food, diapers, clothes and toys? The previous octuplets had a 5 bedroom house donated by Fannie May, but there were no previous children, and the company was doing a whole lot better back then.
And there's also the medical side of things. These types of procedures are typically not covered by insurance. How the heck did an unworking mother pay for IVF? Even with a sperm donor an IVF cycle can cost $10,000- $20,000. Those babies are going to need a bunch of check-ups too.
If there isn't a group that's willing to step in and help, what will happen to these babies? If the mother can't afford her children will the foster system step in and take them away? I think it would be pretty horrible for her if in trying to have more children she lost all of her children.
I understand, once you have 8 living embryos in your body, believing that you shouldn't abort some. It's a matter of your view on life and when it begins, and although I don't particularly agree with the view (particularly as early as blasts attaching to the uteris), I know I've been an avid believer in pro-life principles in the past.
What I don't understand is if she made any arrangements ahead of time to receive help or if she just assumed that her popularity would provide for her children. If I ended up in that situation, although I wouldn't, because I don't already have 6 children, I would either have kept a smaller number of embryos or found adoptive homes for some of the children. Surely she must have known public sentiment would not be in her favor on this.
But there's something is fishy about this whole story, including the number of embryos implanted. I suppose it's possible that they implanted 4 and every one split. That wouldn't sound too extreme if they were older frozen blasts that didn't have a good chance for survival. Still, even 4 would be a lot. The excuse that she didn't want to destroy the blasts is complete horse shit because there are many ways to donate embryos or set up embryotic adoption.
I came within one month of an embryotic adoption. I actually paid the fees for an embryotic match at embryosalive.com, but my doctor wanted to use donated embryos from his clinic instead. I found a donor, I went through preliminary tests, but there was concern that I might have a heart shaped uteris. Another test was ordered that I needed to wait an additional month for. I had to schedule a test within a three day period and missed the test date, so I had to wait another month. That's when the Army told me I was likely to go to Afghanistan. I worked out a deal to come to Boston and saw a clinic here. If I hadn't met Gerd I would probably be a mother by now.
I suppose that's why I must care about this topic as much as I do. People are irresponsible all the time. People do stupid things all the time. I mean, that's why the Darwin Awards were created right? I just hope those babies have a safe, happy upbringing, wherever they grow up.
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