Ashbloemstraat

One step forward, two back.

Well, it was a nice idea and all, having a relaxing evening to myself and finishing the last of the bookshelf and going to bed early and so forth. Then I decided to go by the old house and pick up some more of the bits and bobs left - clothes and laundry mostly, as well as food and a few key items. And discovered the house had been broken into! Hooray!

Yeah, so, I was pretty pissed. I had been saying to David for days we need to clear out everything ASAP, because I knew people in our little marginally ghetto neighborhood were noting that were weren't there regularly. The porch light had been unscrewed once and I'm all "Dude, I think this is a sign so they can figure out if we are here". I'd also like to state for the record I am NOT a paranoid person about these things. But I knew.

Anyway, I got there and the door was unlocked. So I stepped in, immediately called 911, and when they got on the phone I said "My house has been broken into". She says, "Are you ok?". I say, " I tell you who is about to not be ok is any motherfucker still in this house. Please stay on the line while I check it out." So I proceed to look all around the house and it was clear. Damn. I was seriously ready to kick some ass.

Then I got upset because they totally tore apart every box that had been packed. Spilled laundry everywhere. Clearly took interest in my ski boots but because they are stupid motherfuckers left them behind. Stole my Dyson! David's banjo! Our power-sander and jigsaw! I admit, I'm still pretty upset about the Dyson. But I do know that in the grand scheme, it could have been MUCH worse. Those were really the only items of any value that were still there. It was mostly winter clothes and such. I'm also happy we picked up the kittens last night because they would have been long gone.

It is quite out of character for me, but I am feeling very very very uncharitable at the moment.

Now I am having a bourbon at the new house after waiting three hours for the investigators (who I eventually just cancelled). It is 1:30am. I have to be at a training in the morning at 8:30am. For two nights I have been punched in the face by my wonderful but terrible-sleep-habits husband which means I will be operating tomorrow on three nights of 5 hours of sleep or less.

Wait, what am I talking about? what is this SLEEP I keep speaking of? Clearly a fictional concept. Nevertheless, I'm off to give it a whirl.

Things from the past week that have made me sad.

1. While the Myanmar tragedy has me clenching my fists in rage (How can political agenda trump human necessity? I know I am a liberal idealist, but seriously, they may as well be mass murdering their own people.), every morning and afternoon since the Chinese earthquake I have driven to and from work with tears in my eyes. NPR's coverage of this is extremely compassionate and moving. I am finding it both compelling and very hard to listen to.

2. Our neighborhood is rife with loose dogs. They mostly all have owners, and in some cases I know who they belong to, but the general attitude towards pet ownership seems to be freedom of movement (this may be a cultural Mexican thing, I don't know, or maybe it is just a low socio-economic scale thing - who knows). There are also a lot of reckless young drivers going much too fast for a residential neighborhood, so this has really been a tragedy waiting to happen.

Before leaving for Carrie's shower Saturday morning, I pulled out of the driveway and rounded the corner to find our adjacent neighbor's little chihuahua-mix mutt dead in the street. This little dog has spent the last several months running back and forth between our houses, barking at us as though to say "YOU MUST BE AFRAID OF ME!" Of course David and I laughed at him often. So I was pretty heartbroken to find him there. I could not bear the idea of coming home to find that he'd been run over further, so I stopped the car and got out to move him. He was not bloody at all, but his little neck had obviously been broken; I started to cry and wrapped him up in newspapers and put him on his owner's lawn.

WHY CAN'T THESE PEOPLE KEEP THEIR DOGS IN THEIR YARD OR HOME?

3. Monday morning, as I got ready, I watched out the window as the deceased chihuahua's little friend (there were two of them that ran together, owned by the same family) trotted around the yard, sniffing all over. He wandered out into the street, following a trail only he could see. He stopped at the spot where I found and removed his partner. He continued to sniff there for a bit, then walked over to the spot where I had deposited the body, now removed. After a few seconds of smelling around the area, he trotted back to his front porch, where he sat down and moved no more until I left for work.

Land of the free, home of the brave!

Originally David and I had talked about trying to start a family right around this time this year – after my birthday and in the lead-up to the wedding.  I've been taking my pre-natals like the good girl I'm supposed to be. Of course, we also thought we’d be insured by this point, so that’s the main reason we have NOT been trying (not that we haven’t been, you know, PRACTICING). Well, certainly ONE of the main, but not by far the only. There are the additional problems of having little savings, a somewhat irresponsible social life, and the million things we have on our plate already between finishing the house, buying a car, paying for a wedding, me wanting to buy a new computer, and let us not forget we would still really like to move out of Dallas in the next couple years. I can NOT really say that having a child fits into this equation very well in the short term. In short, I’m not really mindfully chomping at the bit for it at the moment, so keep that in mind as you are reading.

That said, there is definitely a lot going on in the subconscious that does suggest I’m ready. Hell, part of the conscious too.  It would seem it is time for me to have children if only to stop the harsh judgment I have been doling out recently (both internally and verbally, much to David’s surprise) upon other parents.

I just can’t help myself. I scrutinize every child I see in public – how they behave, what they are eating, what they are and are not allowed to do. I am every Dallas parent's harshest critic.

Hey Dallas – your kids are poorly fed and badly disciplined.

But who am I to judge? ME, who knows so so much about childcare, right? It’s been under 20 times I’ve babysat in my life. I have a younger sister, but we are close enough in age that I never really experienced her as a child when I wasn’t one too. I’ve only held a small handful of infants (ha ha - SMALL HANDFUL. They were too!). The one time I tried to give a bottle to one I ended up with more of the milk on me than in the kid's mouth.

It is funny, because I would say otherwise I am not such a judgmental person. True, I do believe my first impressions of people to be statistically more accurate than not, but those are generally an emotional impression (like they are strange or unhappy or crazy people), and I make a very conscious effort to make sure people have the opportunity to disprove my first instincts. But I don’t care what people do or say or how they wear their hair or clothes or if they have a million tattoos or green hair or whatever. I don’t judge people based on their personal choices. I try not to, anyway.

But I am judging parents’ choices terribly these days. It is wrong. I admit it. I get my knickers in a real twist and then later I feel bad about it, like they could see my face or sense my displeasure, and then maybe they feel all the worse for what they are doing in what is already a really hard job. And the cherry on top of all this is while I can recognize it is hard, I can bet it is about 100 times harder, so I should keep my judgments and facial expressions to myself. I'm sure karma is going to slap me with the worst kid EVER for all of this some day.

What I am more ashamed of is the almost outright indignation and… well, flat out anger I feel when I think of a couple people I know personally. Now,  before I start explaining myself further, I want to make it clear that I am not angry AT these people. They are friends of mine and I love them.

How to explain this without seeming like a real bitch. I have this one friend who rather rashly had unprotected sex with his girlfriend of, oh, 3 months or so. And now there is a baby; and a beautiful one at that. And another couple we know, who for the past year have done little in front of me than bicker and argue and fight – so much so that I had already written them off as over; I was just waiting to hear it made official. Instead what was made official was that they are having a baby.

I do not even know if they read this. If they do - and you know who you are, I am sure - please keep reading before you get angry with me or anything. Anyway, I have been struggling with this for a while now. I just get so upset about it. So I had to really sit myself down and have a talk with myself about it. What is bothering me SO MUCH? I'm not MAD at my friends for starting families. I'm happy for them. I want people to have love and happiness and all of that stuff.

What I have boiled it down to is this: they have innocently become the conduit through which every current frustration I have with our society is funneled.  It is exactly the same as with my job search - it is the feeling that I am trying to do everything the way I am supposed to - I got the degree; I have good job experience; I was careful about not getting pregnant before I was ready; I'm finally with my true life partner; I am waiting for the job to finally come around that will insure me - AND I AM GETTING ROYALLY SCREWED WHILE I JUST GET OLDER AND OLDER. And other people are all LA DEE DAH WE'RE GONNA MAKES A BABY LURLEEN! CLEAN OUT A DRAWER!

I am irritated that these friends just decided to get pregnant on apparent whimsy, because there is no damn logic to it. But I suppose the real irritation is with myself. I cannot operate that way.

Honestly, I am happy for my friends' riches, either in money or progeny. I just do not understand why I feel so left behind, so willing to follow the rules. If I was still in Europe, I do not think I'd be this angry. In fact, I'd probably have a child by now, because I would be able to afford one on my socialized health care. I would not really care if it was with someone I'd only been with for three months, or with someone I bickered with all the time, because I would know that society was always there to help me raise the best family I could, even if I had to do it alone.

So in the end, it's this whole system I am angry with when I get irritated over my friends' good fortunes. I hate America so much right now. Fuck you, USA. Fuck you and your stupid fucking capitalist "democracy" which totally screws the majority of the population while the rich just keep getting richer. Fuck you for spending $3 billion dollars a week in Iraq for a war we should have NEVER started while I look at babies on the street and wonder if it just is not in the cards for me because I can't get any reasonably priced health insurance. Fuck you, Stupid Americans, for going along with a war that was guaranteed to be a disaster from the get-go, that anyone with a brain suggested from the beginning, but thinking "SOCIALIZED HEALTHCARE" is a dirty phrase. Fuck you. Fuck all of you.

Oh yeah, and I'm mad at Flickr too.