"What's your favorite color?"
I can't wait to see "Meet the Fockers"! It's a sequel, so I suppose it might suck but hey, it's got Dustin Hoffman! It can't be that bad. I can't wait. Obviously the excitement has nothing to do whatsoever with the fact that it's been over a year since Lincoln and I went to the movies last. We are seeing it in Wisconsin where we will spend this Christmas and I'm quite excited about that. They have snow too! Well, we do as well right now, but you know, it seems this will be gone by tomorrow, when Connecticut will return to its favorite season, which is fall and lasts ALL YEAR.
I am almost done with all the Christmas preparations, just a few more cookies... Things have been too hectic, I am disappointed in myself. Next year I will schedule it all WAAAY ahead of time and be prepared. Ehm...
We cut our own Christmas tree 10 days ago and it took us about an hour and a half to actually find the right tree farm. That's because Connecticut has a crazy road-non-system and lots of hills and it is impossible to find out where a street is before you have passed it at least 3 times. Anyway, I would've been happy with a tree bought from a store, but *I* am not the one from a little town in Wisconsin that likes to call itself the Christmas Tree Capital of the World or something like that and *I* am no the one, who will cry thick tears if the Christmas tree is not cut by my own hands on a cold winter afternoon. And so the tree was cut, assisted by Digby and a happy toddler and then we hauled it home and put it up and like every year, the tree was too big. Because. You see, we need a tree that will reach the ceiling. Anything else is not worthy of calling itself a Christmas tree in our home, but any tree that is that high will also be very wide and, I don't know why, but our living room is still tiny and not big and roomy with hardwood floors, cathedral celings and decorative columns (why why is not like that?!) and so the branches are in the way of moving around freely. Luckily the very rugged husband knew how to trim it just right and now we can move around AND see half of the tv screen! (Just kidding! Of course we can see the tv well! We are not crazy!)
We have a nice little Christmas music collection at home and I won't lie I am perusing it, but I won't listen to "Silent Night". Silent Night is just for Christmas and Christmas only. It will suprise people that me with my cold heart will get quite teary-eyed listening to that song. It is just so perfect and has none of that "holly-jollyness" (YUCK) to it. And so I will leave you with this wonderful link that puts me in the worst fuzzy and sentimental homesick mood: Stille Nacht. Interestingly I have never been to that chapel, but that's what an ocean of distance will do to you.
Posted at 12:26 PM on December 21, 2004It does get cold in Connecticut after all
I am so tired. Turns out when you get a part-time job nights and weekends you are not working one thing instead of the other but one thing in addition to the other. I want to tell you about Veronika spending time with my friends while I work and Lincoln isn't home yet and also how much fun she is and how we picked our Christmas tree and all that but I am just so tired! It's not right. Next year I will be much better prepared, I will, I will. I will not be stressed out before Christmas! Please, somebody believe me!
Posted at 02:13 PM on December 16, 2004 | Comments (1)More immigration angst
You might have noticed in the lower left corner is a new link to amazon.com. This is to give you easy access to the books I occasionally review on this site, which also means a tiny percentage for the souzek household. Yep, I'm totally making money off of you. There are no limits to my greed!
I wanted to review Hip Mama but I didn't like it (actually I loved the introduction, but that's it) and realized I don't really want to waste any time giving negative reviews. So I skipped that and am going straight to a book I got for my birthday and really loved. "Hidden Immigrants" are stories about sons and daughters of diplomats, missionaries and other ex-pats, who spent many years of their childhood in one or several different countries and describe in an interview format how it affected their lives. I was surprised how much I could relate although my situation was quite different (I wasn't really an ex-pat, because my family wasn't planning to return to their country.) Unfortunately there is no book about Croatian children, who grew up in Austria and then got married to goodlooking American men but in many ways the statements and experiences of these people are very close to mine.
The author writes about ex-pat children growing up to be in some ways "detached" from their communities because they have learned to stay on the surface: "... they are not joiners and are often most happy in their own company, they vote but are otherwise political observers, they are not blindly patriotic and in fact the notion of patriotism in any form bothers some a great deal. [...] They don't like being pinned down on that "where are you from?" question."
It was a strange feeling of relief to read that. I just didn't know that this is really that common. It feels good to get acknowledgement from a completely unbiased source. Oh that "where are you from" question! I dread it although it can't be avoided and I know I need to be asked that, because it is so much part of me, but still. With every country and every culture you build a new identity. It is a necessity to do that not only to survive in the culture but also to be able to relate to the people you are living with. Now as you move, you leave that life and those people behind and that identity stays with you, but in a sort of unused state. It usually describes an exact time of your life, of your past and you take it along but the new people you meet, your new surrounding has no knowledge of it whatsoever... so in a way you yourself are the only one, who has been around for all the changes for all new created identities. Only you are your only witness to how you were this in this place and then became that in the other and so forth. I think that's one of the big reasons why she says "they are often most happy in their own company". It is a lot of work trying to convey who you are when you have moved so much. There are so many pieces of the puzzle and although they are essential they can not be communicated. So what you do is stick to the identity that works in your current environment and the rest you might tell someone who really is ready to be a lasting friend. That gets tiring sometimes and so it's essential to stay away from people occasionally so you can be your full self without having to do much explaining.
One of the interviewed people said something that really really hit home for me:
"One of the things I've learned about myself from Global Nomads is, while the director kept trying to get me to join, I asked myself, why is it that I don't want to join? I finally realized I don't want to join anything! I don't want to join... I'm just somebody who likes to have individual relationships, but I don't like being part of groups."
Actually I thought I must have written that. All this time I thought I was just a weirdo and then I get my suspicion confirmed, that really my immigrant experience does have a lot to do with how I feel about "joining". Of course an attitude like that could be easily a character trait but in this context I think it isn't. I have never ever found a group I really wanted to be part of. Well, I did initially because it seemed such a great idea, but then very shortly afterwards I found them suffocating and unrealistic and boring and a little bit dishonest. I cannot bear the group identity. I cannot stand the pressure to conform, even if it's conforming to some really nice ideas. The idea of the group is just wrong in my eyes, even though I'm sure it's a blessing for some. In order to fit into a group there is a price to pay, you can't be one with everyone else if you aren't ready to give up a few of your idosyncracies or if you are not ready to be loyal beyond some of your personal convictions. And I can't go there. I just can't. My whole life I had to fight to nurture and maintain my own identity in changing environments. You can't ask me to give this up so that you can have your perfect homogenized group. Sorry. I'm asocial. Whatever.
One woman said: "I really believe that if you travel, your parents are your identity. They are the cohesiveness to your future and how you're going to develop. [...] The other roots - being in the same place, have the same friends all the time - just aren't there. So you have to have the same parents all the time."
That part really rang true for me too, although I would probably extend that to siblings and husbands and not just parents. I do think that a certain sense of culture is transferred more onto the close family than the surroundings and since your parents can't make the connection from their own way of life to the outside world, a lot of the characteristics of the outside world remain rather insignificant. Not insignificant as in not important but as in not permanent and therefore secondary. I think that is another reason why I have trouble with patriotism. I don't see the importance of things that to me are and have been exchangable. A particular language, lifestyle, culture - they are important yes, but they are not "values" to me on par with things like solidarity or dignity or compassion. And that brings me back to that identity issue again. If you have experienced yourself in different languages, lifestyles and cultures and you have not lost yourself on the way, then for you those take second place to other things and you simply cannot be patriotic, because it feels like every time you are you betray another part of yourself.
I highly recommend the book to those who have gone through similar things in their life or those who want to know what it's like. It's more a collection of thoughts and experiences than an analysis but because of that it gives a really good insight into what children go through as ex-pats and how it affects them later in life. I will probably reread parts of it occasionally, if for no other reason than to remind myself I'm not the only weird one.
Posted at 01:16 PM on December 10, 2004 | Comments (3)A website for your enjoyment... and amusement.
I can't decide if this is cute or really really creepy: Storybook
Posted at 11:27 AM on December 04, 2004 | Comments (5)Homesickness Part I
This is the thing with homesickness. It hits you at the most unexpected times, triggered by the weirdest things.
As I was researching some St. Nicholas sites, I come acrross this one and then in particular about St. Nikolaus on the Danube and there at the end of the site, way below is a picture of an old stamp. And then there it is. I don't know what triggered it, maybe the font... Flashbacks to being 9 and in Volksschule. The sounds of the train. Reading boring schoolbooks on a late winter afternoon. Going to piano lessons afterwards.
All from a random stamp. Don't ask, it really doesn't make sense.
Posted at 08:29 AM on December 03, 2004 | Comments (4)Something serious until I regain my wit.
I'm sorry about the long break, Veronika was being cute, so I was distracted.
Anyway, a friend and I were talking about how now that we are married and have children we both wish we were living closer to family. Somehow it seemed to escape us what it was that pushed us to leave home when we were younger. Only when I thought about it more, I remembered that actually none of the reasons really escape me. It is very unlikely I'd be where I am today if I had never really left home until I got married. "Duh" will the Americans say, but you must remember I grew up in Europe where it is not automatic one "leaves" for college but quite common to go to college in your hometown or the one closest to home. It's not a great idea, I admit, but that's how it is. So eventually I decided to apply for a scholarship and study abroad. I was a Spanish major, so leaving wasn't the only reason to spend a year in Madrid, but it was a big part of it. I just knew I had to live a large chunk of time outside of the roles that were assigned to me in my family. They weren't wrong but I didn't really know who I was besides that. Or maybe I had an idea but there was no way to test it.
The time in Spain was really good and really bad for all kinds of reasons but really the most important part was to not have to have your opinions and actions measured against the common consensus of your home. I found it very difficult to really have a personal opinion that I could claim completely my own while living with my parents. Maybe some people didn't have trouble with that. I did. And I think at some point that really scared me. How would I be able to really have an honest experience if it was always filtered through what I have been taught to experience?
Obviously I don't have the parent's experience yet, so I don't know what it feels like to let your children go. Still, I know one of the things I want to teach Veronika one day is that knowing yourself really well is one of the most important things you need in life. Yes, you need guidance, but you also need to test things on your own. You need to do stupid things and you need to do them when nobody is around to tell you how stupid they are. You need to hang out with lots of different people, also those who are supposedly "very bad" for you. I found a lot of determination and a lot of direction in the midst of what looked like a big mess on the outside. I want my daughter to have that thrill of finding out who she is and what she wants and what she doesn't want independently of what I think or dream for her. I suppose that might be painful for me, but I really hope I don't forget my own experience by the time she is grown up and remember that it's necessary for her to leave in order to be able to want to come back.