Leila

Good Things

1. sunshine, finally

2. off to Minnesota tomorrow! i get to see my family, including my lil baby nephew and lots of lil baby second-cousins. plus, 4 days off work next week!

3. Maggie offered to kittysit for Tatiana, a total relief. i was so worried about her being alone for six days. people say cats can't tell time, why? you can't know unless you are one. Tati knows when i get home every day and she acts all needy when we've been gone 24-48 hours (and sometimes tears up the apt. or poops on the rug), so clearly she's aware of time.

4. Michelle joined the group and got her special key chain. it says, "Welcome" and "Just For Today"

5. i love that my wife has the same first name as Michelle Obama, because everyone knows M.O. is the bomb. i love our president and his wife. they are so great. i'm so... yes! proud to be an American

6. incidentally, i found out that Maggie's ancestors are also from the Ukraine, near Hungary. so this fact contributes to my theory that we instinctively re-manifest historical facts- to repeat and solve and re-connect, including the idea of past lives- does that make any sense to you?? it makes total sense to me. like, our ancestors were pals (me and Mags), at least, they went through similar oppression at the same time, in the same part of the world. the difference is, her ancestors were Jewish and mine were Mennonites. this has to be one reason why we connect(ed) and stay together as friends. she was my first friend in New York and is my longest standing friend here. in addition to our ancestoral commonalities, this might be because of her delightful, dominant personality... i love ladies who are dominant. my Michelle is totally dominant (so is my mother). in fact, she's at a social workers conference right now, dominating, as she just texted me. she said she's dominating with smarts, and i know it's true.

7. on my lunch break, i'm going to take a walk down to the little park on 29th and the Hudson and lay on a bench or on the pier. i love it.

SEVEN is a good place to stop, on a list.

DEMONS

it's really just very frightening and depressing to love someone who has only got one foot in this world. well, it may be more than one foot but it's certainly, still, less than two solid feet. and it's not her fault, fault is irrelevant. i have not lost any respect for her, if anything, i have more. addiction is a disease. would you marry someone with HIV? i mean, if they were your true love! last summer, i began to look at it like that. there are times i think (and maybe i'm being melodramatic) that it's my fate only to suffer terrible loss and always be alone, and that i make choices in that direction. but more grounded people remind me that i don't know what the future holds, and must try to have hope and faith no matter what. basically, it's back to taking things day by day, and ignoring fear, and trying to live in the moment. but i do make some choices toward being alone, that much is true. i have lived alone here in NYC (Brooklyn) for almost 10 years! and my family lives in MN and PA. but i do not want to be without Michelle. i want her to live with me and to thrive. i want her to realize all her dreams and goals. and i know she wants the same for me.

i re-read The Master and Margarita last week, by Bulgakov. this week i've started DEMONS, by Dostoevsky, my favorite writer of all time.

what else have i have to say? not much, i guess. just wanted you to know that i did not (in this order) deny god's existence, kill myself, and go straight to hell in a hand basket. :)

ps. new coping strategy when feelings about landfills and pollution become overwhelming: imagine that in landfills, unbeknownst to humankind, plastic will serve a special chemical function where it will one day cause everything to explode and form new planets with life on them while ours (Earth) expires. also, sending mental messages to each component of my trash, like, "I'm sorry you carrot tops have to be encased in a plastic bag, but eventually you will become melded with the other kinds of trash in this bag and will, in total, be transformed into a solid nugget of bagged energy. However, i know you feel like you're choking on the plastic and that you would prefer to be in a garden compost, so I'm really, truly sorry. And you were such good carrots. And thank you for your nutrients and thank you for existing." these kind of thoughts and messages help me deal with my guilt and my distress over the ongoing and relatively rapid death of our planet Earth.

pps. the other day, i found this book online called, "The Mennonite Martyrs," and was immediately interested because those are my ancestors, and apparently they were martyred in Russia! the thing is, for many years i've been interested in Russia, Russian literature, exile, camps, (it started with an interest in the Holocaust), etc. - but i didn't know why i'm so interested, except for morbid reasons. (i read books about these subjects independently, not in school.) then last year, my dad told me that our own ancestors were among those persecuted during the Bolshevik Revolution, and that's why they came to America. i don't know why nobody really mentioned this to me before, or if i just wasn't paying attention. Anyways, I previewed the book on google and saw that there is even one martyr in the book with my last name, Wiens! and also one with my grandmother's maiden last name, Wall... i bought the book right away and it was delivered to me at work, yesterday.

my grandfather was named Henry Peter Wiens and his father was Peter Wiens. i think they were both ministers/pastors, at least my grandpa definitely was one, just like the martyrs in this book. he died in Mountain Lake, MN., about 20 years ago. finding out these connections between my interests and my actual ancestry makes me wonder about instincts... like, what and who we are instinctively attracted to...

most Americans have no idea about their ancestors. This is not just true for descedents of slaves, although that's the most obvious case, but for so-called white people too. You're lucky if you even know something basic like, "Well, I'm German, or Irish." I always thought I was German too, and apparently I am, but it's more complicated than that. I don't exactly understand. My mother's side is just *German*, that's all I know about it. I don't know when or why they came to America. My dad's side is the Mennonite side, and they were also German, at least they spoke German (my grandma still does) and eat German food. But it's a fact that for several generations, at least, they lived in Russia / The Ukraine / Siberia / somewhere around there... I guess no one can really explain the whole story to me. I'm sure my ancestors could not imagine a modern gal like me, although perhaps some great, great, great aunt or uncle looked just like me, or felt like I do. I wish I could continue the bloodline. Hopefully, I will bequeath something else to this world other than flesh and blood.

dancing with myself?

...had a sobbing session last night, ending up quite cozy on the bathroom floor with the door closed and the lights off. meditating on loss and death. meditating on loss and death, why? it seemed like the only reality there is. listening to the addict, lying. imagining her love, when she's healthy. a lot of snot came out, but it didn't clear anything up. so many things have already been lost. they're over and done. only a faint memory remains. so much waste. i'm thinking of my dad's face. i can barely think about him or anyone that i love because it seems they're already gone or will be, too soon. right now, when i imagine my life as a trajectory, it seems like a straight line headed for tragedy. all my romantic choices leading up to funerals. unless god intervenes, which, as we all know there is no god.

The Barren Madonna

Nicorette, la la la

I am happy to report that my lesson went awesome last night. Everyone seemed to love the activity and the professor said she plans on stealing my idea, which is great. You know, I had them describe prints of paintings and photographs, then switch descriptions with a partner, and try to draw/color what the partner described. I totally DO want to be a real teacher. I like everything about it, except the long hours. I love speaking in the imperative form, like, do this or don't do that, etc. Michelle and I communicate it that way, especially when we're bike riding. We compromise a lot though too, it's like a constant compromise between two imperative figures. But usually we want the same things, so it works. People who hang out with us say it's like we operate as one person.

One thing I noticed that ruins the flow is when the gal is manic (I finally understand the term and am using it consciously and literally here. per therapist). She won't let me get a word in edgewise! Also, her compulsive coughing and throat-clearing habit becomes very pronounced. For several months, Michelle didn't believe that the coughing and throat-clearing were compulsions, but I knew it because my older sister used to do stuff like that. Lately, Mich has been trying to tone it down, for my sake, because "agitating/loud noise" is so high on my List of Intolerables. She probably won't be able to stop altogether though, without the right meds. That's what my sister said, anyway (she's a psychologist now).

Speaking of meds, last night I confronted one of my peers, this guy who's always nodding off during class. I said, "Excuse me," and he said, "Yes?" I said, "I want to ask you a personal question, and I don't mean to be rude," and he said, "Okay." I said, "Are you a heroin user?" He looked confused (but high) and said no, but then our conversation got interrupted. Later, he said, "About your question... I'm on some anti psychotic meds and some meds for anxiety," and I said, "Okay well I'm glad to hear that. Stay on your meds," and I smiled at him. He said, "Sometimes when I don't eat enough or something I may look out of it." Then he said, "Thanks for your concern." After that, I thought about reporting him to the teacher because I feel 97% sure that he's lying and it angers me, for some reason. But I decided not to, because what can the professor really do? I know my comments to him probably won't help at all because when you're hooked, nothing else really matters, but hopefully he'll realize that his appearance and behavior are, in fact, identifiable, to someone who knows, whereas he probably thought no one could tell. And if it's really just prescription meds, he's obviously overdoing it.

I hate drugs. I quit smoking today.

Whatever.

I can't seem to stop gaining weight, and I don't eat a lot!?

I eat very healthy.

Today sucks, the fucking weather- everything. I'm so ungrateful. I'm so unenlightened. Goddamn the fucking rain though!!! Enough! I'm just bored of life. How am I going to survive without my smokes? Am I ready? How do you quit if you're not "ready?" What if you never feel ready?

Sasha, Artist/Revolutionary in Nikes

So... while waiting for the F train to close its doors and move along at 4th Ave. this morning, a large family came rushing up the stairs and made it in time. I do not intend the following description as anything creepy, more so the beauty of this child seemed like a special sign. At first I thought the kid was annoying and spoiled, as if through Michelle's eyes, who doesn't like happy, smart and attractive looking White children, for some reason. Anyways, Sasha got herself a seat in between two random adults, and she goes, "Daddy I want to color!" At first I thought she said, "Daddy I want to cuddle!" which is weird, but her Daddy said, "Not right now, Sasha. The train is moving too much and you might lose your markers." It's so sad when parents respond to their kids like, "Sit down and shut up!" I hate that. You don't want to make eye contact either and be told to mind your own business. Well, Sasha had a nice dad, and he finally agreed to give her her coloring book and markers. She then tried to put her Hello Kitty backpack on her lap as a little table, but she couldn't get it in the right position, and I watched her struggle for some time. While concentrating, she was doing a light tap tap tap with her front top and bottom teeth, which I also do. This little gal had huge blue eyes and shortish, wavy brown hair. She was probably about five or six years old? Then she put Hello Kitty on the train floor, sat on it, and started to color by people's feet until her dad suggested using the train seat as a table. I work for the company that makes Hello Kitty backpacks, by the way. In fact, I felt like we had a lot in common, but she barely looked at me. I wanted to say, "Hey look! I'm you, but all grown up!" I liked her outfit. Sasha wore silver and pink Nikes, pink cotton pants with buttons on the side, and a little red raincoat with black polka dots. Her coloring book had Hebrew on the cover and inside were all these mathematical, geometric designs. Awesome coloring book idea! She worked on a design that had many large triangles divided up into smaller ones, like a simple kaleidoscope. She was coloring big triangular chunks in pink and purple. My favorite colors, as miniature me! It kind of hurt my feelings that she didn't smile at me or anything, but oh well.

Michelle didn't get home from the ER until 8 am, this morning. She's staying home from work today.

Do you think you can be a revolutionary and still wear Nikes? I hope so. I actually work for an importing company- shoes (and backpacks!) made in Chinese factories, shipped, accruing costs in energy, not recycling, etc. etc. technically against my ethical beliefs... but I actually love my job and hate to think about moving on (to start teaching). Sometimes, I really think I might not become a teacher afterall, despite getting my masters degree.