196 Books: Austria

The Torch in My Ear by Elias Canetti

It took me for-freaking-ever to read this book. The obligatory description, then I'll get into why. 

This is the second volume of Elias Canetti's autobiography. It is above all else an account of his admiration for the first great mentor of his adult years, the Viennese writer Karl Kraus. It is also a portrait of Canetti's first wife, Veza. Within the framework of these great passions, Canetti provides an account of the Vienna and Berlin of the 1920s.

In defense of the book, I didn't read the first one. In all honesty, I'm not sure it would have made a difference for me. There were a lot of narrative points that I really liked--it was an entirely different time and almost seemed like a different planet. Overall though, it was a little too philosophical for me. I kept finding myself reading things that went in one ear and out the other. 

On the not-so-great side, he kept referencing the previous book in ways that seemed useless to me. He would talk about some small encounter that not having known it didn't take anything away from the book. That sentence was really weird. It also jumped around between Vienna and Berlin which kind of bothered me for my project. 

On the positive side, his work and fascination on crowds was neat. There were a lot of points that I never thought of and wouldn't have otherwise. The way he described famous writers and poets was interesting; I had no idea who any of them were but I imagine at the time they were very famous. I wonder if all our celebrities will be like that in 100 years. Probably. He used many big words that I didn't know and that made me feel stupid! There was a line I particularly loved: "respect for others begins with not ignoring their words." 

This book was...I dunno. I don't have a lot to say about it, which makes for a short "review." I'm sorry guys, I've been super distracted and this book didn't entirely penetrate through the haze. 
I promise I'll try to do better, and here's hoping for better luck next time. I've taken on this project and I'm not doing very well; I'm taking way too long. I am trying. I guess that's the best I can do. 

And now, onward to another country and another adventure. 

Desolation

Lost

Historically, at this time of the year, I get really restless. Every few years or so that restlessness compounds into a rather severe depression...and this is one of those years. 
I've been in a sort of funk for months, I don't feel like there's anything to be excited about. I know I'll get through it but it sure sucks for now. 

Poor Soldier puts up with a lot from me. I'm rather neurotic, pretty type A, and it doesn't take much to annoy me. Not that he's perfect either, but I know I'm not easy. Our personalities are basically polar opposites...in a lot of ways we complement each other, but in some ways we just butt heads. One of these ways is that Soldier is a night owl. I'm pretty much always tired, especially since I've stopped taking my narcolepsy meds. He'll want to stay up later than me and I hate it because he'll stay up till 2 or 3 and I'll have to get up and ask him to come to bed and then I'm mad and can't sleep. I like having him there. 

So yesterday he'd taken a nap and didn't want to go to bed when I did. Such a little thing but it bothered me and I got upset. We argued a bit and I ended up standing at the bathroom mirror crying. We argued a bit more and I told him it wasn't working. I'm embarrassed to tell you it's not the first time I've said that. I just get overwhelmed with our differences and how he doesn't always seem to make an effort (though I'm not entirely sure I always do either). He left. 

Then he came back. He did something unexpected: he came back in, wrapped his arms around me, and said we'd get through it together. 

That's the first time he's said something like that; I just held onto him and cried. It seemed like he finally got that I haven't been intending to be a bitch; I've been feeling so empty and alone that it makes me crazy and irrational. 
It felt good to have him actually tell me he was sticking with me despite the difficulty...that he's choosing us. It makes things a little more hopeful. 

Hopefully things will start to get better with the warmer weather and perking up of the city, and I'll have more adventures and fun stories to tell you soon. 
Don't forget about me, little chickadees. I'm still here. 

Alternative Medicine

Alternative reality

What is it about medical issues that make people think they should give you their opinion, and that you want to get it? And when you don't show much interest, to push it even more? This is not a new issue, but one that has come up yet again. 

A coworker was recently telling me about working out on the lunch hour, then asked if I work out. I explained that I used to, but due to my autoimmune stuff there's now a lot of working out I'm not supposed to do. I then got the now-familiar start of "have you thought about changing your diet?" It now takes everything I have to control the full-body-eye-roll reaction when I hear those words. 

Then came the suggestion to cut out sugar, alcohol, processed food, red meat, dairy, gluten, rainbows, sunshine, puppies, and children's laughter. And I had to politely explain, and re-explain, and explain three more times that I don't believe my diet is the problem, I'm not interested in changing it, and my disease is relatively controlled. Even if changing my diet would get rid of the autoimmune, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't restore the damage my knees have already sustained. 

But of course this is because of a mistrust of doctors.They just "have a thing" about doctors. You know, doctors who have gone through so many hoops and years and become experts in their field...but please, tell me how the doctor is less credible than the Gluten Free Crunchy Mom blog you read. 

The sad part is I've gotten into some pretty big arguments with friends over this topic. Yes, I do understand that they care about me and want to help...but I didn't ask nor am I interested in it. And when I say thank you but no thank you, shouldn't that be enough? Yes. It should. 

I have a hard time balancing between being polite, assertive, and just really fucking done with the conversation. 

Okay, I know for a lot of people diet makes a huge difference, and there is a lot of validity to changing it. Should I make more of an effort to eat better? Probably. But you know what? I'm lazy. I am making an effort to be healthier. But I don't want to be monitoring every little thing I eat or having to make special meals 100% of the time. I like sugar. Like, I really really like sugar. And I like booze and going out to eat and carbs. That's not to say I don't make any effort to eat slightly less terribly; I do. But I'm also not about to cut random things out of my diet. It will not make me invincible, and there's almost a certainty it would make me miserable and bitchy. 

Whew, I forgot how good I am at ranting and bitching...so I'll just continue!

Another fun thing happening around the office is the joke of pregnancy predictions. I'm tired. Are you pregnant? I like food. You must be pregnant. I forgot what I came in here for. Oh! Pregnancy brain! 

Oooor I'm just a regular fucking human being! Plus, if I was pregnant, wouldn't it be better to wait till I deemed it appropriate to announce that instead of putting me in some awkward position where I either have to lie or divulge life-changing news before I'm ready? Rude. 

Okay. This kind of makes me think of one of the few YouTube personalitities I watch multiple videos of...he has a new (I think) one about how to be offended. Sometimes I feel like I fit in there...like maybe I'm not taking the joke or something. But this one does really bug me. 

Maybe the next time someone has a headache I'll nudge them playfully and say "Uh oh, you must have a brain tumor!" with a knowing wink. 

196 Books: Australia

The Road from Coorain by Jill Kerr Conway

Hey. Did anyone notice that I've been putting 169 books when it actually should have been 196? Did you notice that and not tell me? Ruuuude. I mean, did I have it right on any of them? Color me foolish. 
We'll get to the book though. No bullet points this time. 

You should know where Australia is. It's its own continent. But here it is. 

And the obligatory description of the book. 

In a memoir that pierces and delights us, Jill Ker Conway tells the story of her astonishing journey into adulthood—a journey that would ultimately span immense distances and encompass worlds, ideas, and ways of life that seem a century apart.

She was seven before she ever saw another girl child. At eight, still too small to mount her horse unaided, she was galloping miles, alone, across Coorain, her parents' thirty thousand windswept, drought-haunted acres in the Australian outback, doing a "man's job" of helping herd the sheep because World War II had taken away the able-bodied men. She loved (and makes us see and feel) the vast unpeopled landscape, beautiful and hostile, whose uncertain weathers tormented the sheep ranchers with conflicting promises of riches and inescapable disaster. She adored (and makes us know) her large-visioned father and her strong, radiant mother, who had gone willingly with him into a pioneering life of loneliness and bone-breaking toil, who seemed miraculously to succeed in creating a warmly sheltering home in the harsh outback, and who, upon her husband's sudden death when Jill was ten, began to slide—bereft of the partnership of work and love that had so utterly fulfilled her—into depression and dependency.

We see Jill, staggered by the loss of her father, catapulted to what seemed another planet—the suburban Sydney of the 1950s and its crowded, noisy, cliquish school life. Then the heady excitement of the University, but with it a yet more demanding course of lessons—Jill embracing new ideas, new possibilities, while at the same time trying to be mother to her mother and resenting it, escaping into drink, pulling herself back, striking a balance. We see her slowly gaining strength, coming into her own emotionally and intellectually and beginning the joyous love affair that gave wings to her newfound self.

I liked this book. It had a bit of an ebb and flow; some parts I was really excited to read and some were a little meh. But it was really cool to read about life raising sheep and the ups and downs of trying to make a living in the bush. 

There was a point that kind of bothered me. She didn't get a high ranking job because she's a woman and she said she now understood how the natives and Aborigines felt having everything taken from them. I thought that was overstepping just a little bit. 

I kind of wish she'd been able to dig a bit deeper. She wrote quite a bit about the stoicism that's taught growing up in Australia; that combined with her training as a historian made it a little superficial for me. Granted, it was obvious she broke out of that emotional black hole as she got older. 

The best thing I can say about this book is that, though this story worked perfectly for the purpose of my little "project," it left me wanting more. 

The Pit of Despair

Don't even think about trying to escape.

I'm starting off with The Princess Bride to bring some levity to the situation. Because this is not a fun or happy post. And I'm finally writing it after having it etched in my brain every minute. 

I, along with many others, seem to be living in a Pit of Despair. Call me dramatic, call me childish, call me a whiny liberal. 

The world is terrifying to me. I feel I've fallen into this spiral of hate, division, and callous selfishness, and I can't control or get out of it. 

Last week I was glued to the BBC website, refreshing every few minutes to get any new news from the Gambia. Though I knew deep down it was the safest place being confined behind a wall of Marines at the Embassy, I couldn't get rid of my terror for Diplomat Sister. She was quick to reassure me that she was fine and the situation should be handled relatively swiftly, but I read articles and looked at pictures of ground troops, military ships, and fighter planes from ECOWAS countries ready to take action and couldn't help wondering how bad it would get. Why? Because one man, one egomaniac, decided he was above everyone and didn't want to let go of his power. When he finally did leave, it seems he took millions of dollars with him. And that's just one very small country that, in a global sense, is somewhat insignificant. 

What happens when it's a country that's a world power?

I watched the presidential election with growing disbelief. How could this guy even be considered? How could this guy be a viable option? How could this guy make it to one of the two main choices? How could he be elected? 

But, despite the majority of the American public not voting for him, he was elected. (But that's a whole different rant). 

In the time between the days of election and inauguration, Trump seemed to back off on some of the more extreme campaign promises, and I started to become cautiously optimistic. That was quickly dashed as the cabinet picks came out; a roll call of his business pals. It became more and more apparent that things were just as bad, if not worse, than we feared. 

Back in the Gambia, things have gotten better. Their new president is officially in office and country, and the people can celebrate and begin to heal. We, unfortunately, are going the opposite direction. Our "leaders" want to take away women's control over their own bodies, keep out Mexicans, ban Muslims, muzzle science and truth with "alternative facts," take away people's healthcare, pollute the environment, demonize and silence anyone who disagrees with them, and constantly spew vitriol while insisting that they are just good Christians who want the very best for their country. And you have the supporters who claim that the unborn babies need someone to speak up for them, that we need to protect the borders and keep the terrorists out, that they don't want to pay for some lazy waste to have insurance, that we need to take care of our own...while insisting they are just good Christians who want the very best for their country. They don't bother thinking about the consequences of controlling someone else's body, or that what creates terrorists is oppression and desperation, they don't bother researching that the biggest cost to healthcare is the insurance and drug company's CEOs padding their bank accounts. Worst of all, they humbly go to church on Sunday and feel they're doing their duty, they're being good Christians, while ignoring Christ's words...love one another, give to the poor, help those in need, don't judge others. 

I have no idea if Obama is Christian or not...he very well may not be, but in his presidency he acted more like a Christian than 90% of the people who sit in church every Sunday, pray at every meal, and smile at just how blessed they are. 

It's maddening and sickening and I continually go back and forth between wanting to be informed and being absolutely appalled at the information. This is not a country to be proud of. 

But there is a ray of hope in the opposition. The marches, the National Park's rogue social media accounts, the journalists who refuse to give in, the lawyers rushing to help detainees, the organizations working against the hate, the people who refuse to bury their heads in the sand. Soldier even played a podcast for me where some scientists were talking about the transition and they just found clever ways of sneaking around, like giving climate change a different name in their work.

I'm scared, no doubt, but I'm also cautiously hopeful. There are a lot of people fighting. 

In his inaugural speech, Trump said he was listening. He said the people wouldn't be ignored and forgotten. Well, the people are screaming. 

Honeymooning

Paradise.

This time I can tell you that it's taken me a while to post because I've been working! I'm so glad to be out of the house and contributing again. And now I'll try to remember the honeymoon almost 2 months ago. 

Soldier and I didn't take a honeymoon the first time around, so we decided to do it right this time. Two days after the wedding, we were off to an all inclusive in Mexico. Our flight left hella early after a few long days so that was super fun. I think the first flight left at 6 am, which meant we left the house at like 3. Gag. The good news is our flights went fine. We had a layover and breakfast in Dallas where we ran into many other honeymooners. Thankfully Soldier and I didn't have the cliche Mr. and Mrs. or Ball and Chain or Just Married shirts. They made me roll my eyes; I don't think it was because of how tired I was. 

After a few more hours we landed on a beautiful, sunny island. It was pretty easy getting through customs, and we used a site that took care of getting us from the airport to the resort so that was nice. They kept trying to get us to sit through time share or resort presentations and sell us stuff, which was super obnoxious. I just wanted to drop my stuff off, get a drink, and get in the pool. 
Finally we got checked in and to our room and opened our bottle of welcome wine. The best decision we made was to get a swim up room. So after a couple of drinks we waded out to the pool bar from the room. Ah-may-zing. 

A lot of our time there consisted of hanging out on the beach and by the pool. A couple of days in we had scheduled a dive so I could get my certification. For some reason I was really panicked and tossed and turned most of the night from the knots in my stomach. The next morning I had to force myself to choke down breakfast and continued to fret. 
It was pretty much a goner before it started; even jumping in the water i started getting the panicky feeling. I felt like I really wasn't prepared and didn't know what to do. Breathing on the regulator was weird and unnatural. We did see some really cool stuff: a couple of huge lobsters, an octopus, lots of fish, a barracuda or two, and the reef. It was ridiculously beautiful. 

We surfaced and I asked Soldier if he would still love me if I didn't do it again. As amazing as it was, I hated almost every minute of it and just wanted to be back up in the air the whole time. So we cancelled the rest of my dives and Soldier scheduled a couple for the next day. It actually worked out well because he got to do a wreck dive, which probably would have terrified me. So it was a win-win. 

Then it was back to beach and pool and booze. One of the cool things about the all-inclusive was they planned activities in the afternoons; one was archery, the next (when Soldier was diving) was rifle shooting, and our last afternoon was a foam party. I was pretty proud of myself, I wasn't half bad at the archery, and I looked like I knew what I was doing. 
The foam party was super fun, but I have no idea how people do that in clubs. It's sticky and gets everywhere and the saving grace was that we could jump in the pool. But damn it, it was fun! 

Our last day...well most days, we stumbled our way to breakfast and a little hair of the dog. (Soldier wisely says "you can't be drunk and hungover at the same time.") We got out fine but the airport was absolutely bananas. It took for freaking ever. Like somewhere between 2 and 3 hours...I was honestly getting a little concerned we'd miss our flight. And the majority of that time was just checking in; we got through security in a snap. But the flights went fine and my wonderfully caring mama brought me a winter coat that I'd forgotten to ask for. 

We had another couple of days back home which were of course too short. I basically spent the entire time crying because saying goodbye is the WORST. The W.O.R.S.T. 

But, those are the basics. We had a great time, minus a couple of alcohol induced arguments, and I'd be happy to solely have all-inclusive vacations from now on. 

Is it too early to go back now?

Wedding Bells Pt.3

Time to party.

After the family pictures we went to a park with some weeping willows and nice fall-colored trees with the wedding party. All the pictures didn't take nearly as long as I expected so we had time to run to a local brewery for some more pictures and a few drinks. 

I had talked to one of the owners and gotten permission to take some pictures back in the brewing area, which I was pretty excited about. It wasn't a big area so just Soldier and I got to go back, but we got some cool shots. It turned out that we actually had a lot of time, so we all had a couple drinks and some of the guys got a pizza. 

Off to the reception. Our entrance song was Danger Zone because we're fun and silly and it totally didn't take me weeks to decide on that. Just before we made our entrance, Soldier told me to just follow his lead and stick to the right. When we got out there, he spun me around into a high five...it was adorable. We're adorable. Totes adorbs. 
Somehow we got there a little late or they didn't serve dinner on time or something, but we only had the photographer for a limited time so we basically had to do everything at once. 

First we did the toasts while dinner was starting. Rockstar Sister did mine and made me cry. I think about it and cry. She started it by saying she had such a hard time writing it because she realized she had been writing it for the wrong person; she'd started writing it for the little girl she used to dress up and, yup, I'm crying again. Soldier's brother had some nice things to say about how he and Soldier both married their first girlfriend and some other cute stuff. 

We were able to eat for like 5 minutes, then did our first dance. It was Sinatra's The Way You Look Tonight. Then we had our parent dances (at the same time) to a sweet version of You are My Sunshine. My parents used to sing it to us kids when we were mad at them. Then we quickly cut our little cheesecake for the camera, and I wanted to get a couple of pictures outside at the marina. 
Just as we were walking out the door, a friend of Soldier's stopped us. Now, the background on this guy is he's one of the most unreliable people anyone knows. Days before the wedding he still hadn't RSVPed and told us that he just might show up, possibly with his wife and a couple of their kids. Anyway he stopped us and angrily said he had to go pick up his kid. He asked Soldier how long we'd be there, how long we'd be in town, etc, and I was on the verge of telling him we were trying to do stuff, and he ended with "don't have kids till you've had all your adventures." It was one of the most cringeworthy but funny things I've experienced. 

Back inside we had time to shove a couple more bites in our faces before...I dunno. Something happened. People started talking to us or something. Then dancing started and then they brought out the cake. Which I had NONE of because I'm a damn DISGRACE. I'm so disappointed in myself! The rest is pretty much just a blur of dancing and drinking. Although I do remember seeing people eating our tiny cheesecake later on because they're super tacky. 

It was somewhere between 11 and 12 when we left. Some people were going to after party at the in laws, and we considered going but figured we'd probably just get drunk and pass out there. So we went off to the hotel. In the room I realized 2 things: we had a large jacuzzi tub, and I was starving. After actually eating, I had another realization: I forgot the hook to undo all the buttons on my dress. Soldier was really patient and didn't even complain that he had to take care of it. 

I insisted on a bath because the jacuzzi was there, and we had a drink while soaking. 
Oh! I forgot something fun. So one night at my parent's house I went to make a drink and grabbed a bottle of vodka. Turns out it was empty. I started to yell until I saw a button...and it turns out it had a scrolly message on it! So when we got to the reception there was one of those bottles on our little table with a congratulations message on it. It was the coolest! 
So we had a drink with our fancy vodka and passed out immediately after. Not in the tub, don't worry. That may have led to drowning. 

The next morning we stumbled our way downstairs for that crappy hotel breakfast buffet and went to spend some time with our families before we jetting off to sunny Mexico.