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Mit Enttäuschung umgehen

Mit Enttäuschungen umgehen

Es soll immer einfacher werden, oder? Nein, nein, ich will nicht den blöden Opfer spielen. Die Rolle fühlt sich ganz bequem an, wie einen alten abgenutzten Pullover. Aber das will ich heute nicht, besonders weil ich meine Misserfolge mit dem Kinder kriegen nicht mit der heutigen Enttäuschung.

Heute ist es mir klar geworden, dass ich nicht ganz bereit für die Anmeldung für die Hochschule bin. Die Zeugnisse aus den USA vom vor Jahrzehnten sind noch nicht gekommen und meine Deutschkenntnis Niveaubestätigung genügend nicht.

Das heisst, dass ich mich erst im Herbst für den Frühling 2018 Semester anmelden kann. In der Zwischenzeit wird ich mein Deutsch verbessern und eine Zertifikat dafür kriegen (dafür übe ich jetzt mit diese blöde Sätze auf Deutsch) und meine Uralte  Naturwissenschaftliche Erkenntnisse auffrischen.

Naja,mal schauen. Vielleiht bekomme ich in der Zwischenzeit ein Kind. Man kann es nach hoffen. 

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An Albatross around my neck

I still have an eggless nest as of this Easter 2016, but all attempts at baby-making or -procuring are on hold while I heal from a proctocolectomy to help my Crohn’s disease. The surgery has had a marked effect on my body, my overall health and my cycle and makes me hopeful for my long term health. It also makes me unable to fly to be with my father as his new wife dies. 

I have an eggless nest and I was also pushed out of the nest a little prematurely, I think. I was raised by a single mama bird who wasn’t super attentive and I was told when I was 18, “I’m done being a mother. I’m going to be a wife now.” This was part of her announcement that she was getting married and we’d all need to get our crap out of her house because she’d be moving in with her husband. 

When my mother died of bowel cancer two years ago, I had this memory in my mind. But no matter what, I was her daughter and the loss was profound. 

My father left us when I was 4 (my twin was also 4 and my sister was 7.) He left some other kids that he never properly acknowledged when they were little too and he left his second wife when their kids were 2 and 4. After that relationship, he spread it around. He went a little dating crazy and then when I tried to phone him on his 40th birthday, I discovered that he’d attempted suicide after being confronted about sleeping with more than 50 women by his live-in girlfriend. 

Papa was a rolling stone and an alcoholic and a lover of drama. He was there for me when I was first ill and spent a month in hospital, to the exclusion of his other kids. I became his poster child and was used in proving him as a good dad to prospective partners. It was gross, I set a boundary and we wound up not speaking for 2 years because of it. 

After those 2 years, we reconnected. He’d been with the same woman 2 years during our estrangement. He’d stopped drinking and he’d stopped leaving. He was staying. I was amazed. He came to my wedding (was terribly late as he couldn’t leave the country initially because of failure to pay child-support) and most importantly to me, he calmed me down over the phone when I was hyperventilating outside of the house as my mother died inside it. He said all the right things and gave me peace. He came to her funeral and held us. 

Before my mother’s death, she and her husband would sometimes go out with my dad and his partner (who has ovarian cancer.) They’d made an agreement back when my sister graduated high school to be friends, to be a unit and to work hard at being nice, as many events in their children’s future would require their attendance. I am so grateful for that. There were so many holidays together. They were loving grandparents to my nephew together. And he could be at my mother’s funeral without upsetting her widower. 

Now my father’s partner - as of late Sunday night his 3rd wife - is dying. The leaver is being left. And it’s so damned sad. And I can’t be there for him. And i wish there was something I could do for him. 

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Bulletproof Aran Hat - the blue one is all yak wool and the blue and brown is blue yak and brown cashmere #knit 

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When I'm riding my bike and someone saunters into the bike lane or a driver has taken it up, I sing out "Veloweg!" I feel lcheerful, knowing that I've been a friendly reminder to people about keeping the bike lane for bikes.

So why is it that I feel so offended by my fellow citizen's reminders of how to be a good neighbor?

-I have a dog.

While walking my doctor past a hedge, she naturally was drawn to sniff bellow it and catch scent of all the animals that have been there before her.

A woman in her bathrobe flew to her balcony and shouted something at me.

"Was?" I asked

"La ihn niit da pizzele!" (don't let the dog pee there."

I smiled and said "she's just sniffing." In answer I got a glare and a finger wag. I was offended, but thought of nothing to say.

Two days later I took my poor sleepy puppy for her last wee and a couple walking slowly down the other side of the road stopped to glare at me. They then started crossing the street toward me and the man looked at me as if I'd called him something rude. I was just standing by my dog, who was sniffing every centimeter around a tree. "Will er auf miis Auto pizzele?" "Does that dog want to pee on my car?"

"Have you ever seen any dog pee on a car?" I asked. "If she wanted to, do you think that this short little Basset would be able to pee on your car?"

Passive aggressiveness continued from both of us, with edges in both of our voices. It was obnoxious.

So does that mean that I need to get better about canine criticism or that I need to shut my trap about defending the bicycle lane?

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My dog embodies nostalgia. She will risk hurting herself, pulling against the lead so hard, just to look back. She’ll stop in the middle of the road - endangering herself - to look back. It’ll happen if a person petted her and the walked past. It’ll happen even more if a passerby doesn’t pet her. Step-step-step- look back - step - step - step - look back.

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Estonian sock hat. I think it needs earflaps. What do you think?

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Accidentally knitted a camo kitty hat instead of a calico kitty hat for my nephew. (Hope my sister isn't cross)

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David Sedaris at Kaufleuten in Zürich

This was my third time going to see David Sedaris read and I was determined to speak to him. The first time I saw him was at a teeny bookshop and I could barely get in to the shop for all the fans. The second time was at the Opera house in San Francisco. The line to see him would have been hours long and I'd not brought a book along so we decided not to bother. This time however, I was armed with a book and a question to ask him and was determined to see him.

In advance of the reading, the author offered to sign a few books in order to lessen the massive wait time after. i was third in line and I loved hearing his curiosity and respect of the fans in front of me. (His common question was about retirement age.) I'd intended to ask him how he reacts to seeing litter-bugs in the act (he has a story in his newest book about how he cleans rubbish from the side of the road in Sussex, where he lives. Instead, I blurted out my congratulations for C.O.G. (a film loosely based on some of his stories) and soured it all. We chatted about language learning instead and what languages sound similar and which languages are harder than the other. (He liked my theory that Swedish sounds like someone speaking German with a strong Canadian accent.)

After the reading, however, there was a Q&A session and I got my hand up first. "I know that you clean up litter for hours every day. I get really out-of-hand when I see someone littering. What do you do when you actually encounter someone in the act of littering?"

He said that though there is a sea of rubbish on the road side every day, he almost never sees anyone throwing it on the ground. "Actually, the other day I saw a man throw a plastic bottle at a building while waiting on line for the cash-point. He did it as if to say 'say something about it so I can throttle you.'" So the litterer's card didn't work and when Sedaris was able to take his money out just after, he considered shouting to the man "it worked for me. Maybe it just doesn't work for assholes who throw rubbish on the ground! I got 300 pounds of reward for not littering." But apparently he realized that confronting a litterbug terrifies him, as he imagines that litter bugs are likely violent "after all, they're clearly assholes, like SUV drivers or something. But then, I'm no good at assessing people. I saw a man working on a scratch lotto ticket and I was sure that he was going to throw it on the ground and wouldn't you know it, he walked across the street and threw it in the bin. So, who knows?"

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Nopatience Mcgee

Amsterdam Centraal station: the locker room:

An English youth drops a wrapper on the floor.

Me (a bit too close): you dropped something there.

Him: Up, yup, missed my bag there. (picks it up)

The youth and his friends lock their locker and move along. The original youth and his friend - not 10 paces away from me - both throw their wrappers on the floor.

Me (a bit close again - after running the ten paces - shoving the wrappers at them): you dropped this

Them: God, what's your problem?

Me: You're a guest in this country and you're being disgusting

The man working the locker room approaches, asks if there is a problem. The youths throw their wrappers in the garbage.

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My walk home from tutoring