Sjeti se svih obecanja blistavih...
I feel like Santuzza, I want to throw myself at the church steps and wail, wrapped in my shawl, desperate, doomed. Dramatic, you think? This post was supposed to be about my new life, my awakening if you will after some long dark 10 months. For over a week now I've been planning to write about how sleeping through the night has given me incredible energy, how I wake up looking forward to spending time with the kids, how I catch myself thinking how awesome they are about 13 times a day, how I am so thankful basking in all this love around me, how I have so much energy for everything, how I am planning new craft projects and social life projects (= friends), how I cannot believe this is what it feels like to get enough sleep. Would've been nice to read, no? Would've been nice to live too, longer than, like, a week and a few days, because you know what I'm about to say. Ivan is back to waking up. Granted, only once or twice a night, but those times he doesn't want to get back to sleep. Add to that the new waking time (5.30 am) he acquired during those sleep-through-nights, but is now keeping during those not-sleep-through-nights and I am back in the pits and can't get out.
I had forgotten how good one can feel with sleep. Those 10 days made me see just how much sleeplessness messed up my life. I was so "off" on most days, but lost the perspective because there were too few good days to compare them too. I woke up angry, bossing the kids around, feeling like every day was one big insurmountable obstacle. I dreaded everything and just thinking about doing something made me feel exhausted. All I tried to do is make it until the night, so I could catch up. And then I never could. When I finally got several nights in a row of uninterrupted sleep and felt what life was like that way, I "woke up" to myself and realized I am actually not a screaming lunatic like I thought, it was just the sleeplessness talking (screaming).
Here I am "back", I can feel the crazy taking over my mind. Ivan had a few bad nights and while this could still be just a relapse, I am freaking out, because I will. not. go. back. to. not. sleeping. I feel like I was let out of prison for a week and now I'm back, locked up, forced to live with my head messed up, my energy gone, my optimism verboten. I feel I need to do something, I need to prevent this, and while I know I can try things that might work there is the sinking feeling that there is nothing ultimately that can be done, but just walk through it again for however long it takes and wait it out.
Have I mentioned how much I detest being in this situation? Do you want to know how I "really" feel? DO you? Do I need to let the crazy out?
Posted at 09:50 AM on January 24, 2007 | Comments (6)Europeans, raise your hands!
Lincoln sent me this link, a transcript of a speech by the German director Wim Wenders. There are a few quotes that ring true to me, but I'm not sure if I really get the point he's trying to make. If you're European and read this, what do you think? Is he right? (Read the whole thing, it's fast.)
"One has the impression
that Europe is a wreck, (...)
if you think back to the constitution disaster,
reflect on Europe's actual political influence
or on the lack of enthusiasm shown by its citizens
for "the European Cause" in recent times.
"The Europeans" have had it up to here with Europe...
On the other hand,
Europe is heaven on earth,
the promised land,
as soon as you look at it from the outside.
Over the last couple of months,
I have seen Europe from Chicago and New York,
from Tokyo and Rio,
from Australia,
from the heart of Africa, the Congo,
and, just last week, from Moscow.
I am telling you:
In each case, Europe appeared in a different light,
but always as paradise,
as a dream of mankind,
as a stronghold of peace, prosperity and civilization."
"Here in Berlin, I am German,
in the meantime with all my heart.
Yet, hardly do you set foot in America,
then you no longer say you are from Germany, France, Italy or wherever.
You come "from Europe," or you're about to return there.
For Americans, this epitomizes culture,
history, style, "savoir vivre."
It's the only thing they feel strangely inferior about.
Even rather permanently. "
I can relate to the transformation into European once you step outside, the lesser need to actually identify yourself as German or Italian or whatever. Why is that?
On the other hand I am also familiar with the Europeans' self-loathing (Ueberdruessigkeit waere das richtige Wort.). Why is that? Why is it commonly so unfashionable and childish to love our own culture? It seems some Europeans cannot kill traditional European culture fast enough, just look at the modern theater and music productions. Or let me say it this way: How much pig's blood on a canvas do we really need?
Posted at 11:10 AM on January 11, 2007 | Comments (5)Got what you wanted?
I did. The best part though is that I had forgotten I wanted it. It was one of those things... where I thought I wish I could have this, no, I wish I could have the life that goes with this toy. (You know, free time, being by yourself, quiet times at the computer, keeping up with the rest of the world and such.)
Now I didn't get that life (thank God, that would've been scary), but turns out the Nano will play for desperate housewives, via a genius little JBL speaker thingy that confines the music to the kitchen (just like the housewife!). And so here I am, getting down all by myself or under Veronika's supervision ("Stop dancing, mama!!!"), just like my love intended.
Additional credits go to the in-law-parents and to the brother-in-law for the JBL. Thank you!
Posted at 04:30 PM on January 05, 2007 | Comments (3)Walking
Ivan has taken his first steps by himself over the holidays. Check out the last movie on his links page: Ivan walks
Posted at 04:28 PM on January 04, 2007 | Comments (1)