The Fountainhead, also known as 'smh', in the parlance of our time.

The Fountainhead, or smh, in the parlance of our time.

After more than a year of persistence and determination, putting it down and picking it back up again, I have finished reading Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead. Some friends and I, disillusioned with the current state of affairs in the United States, wanted to know what exactly it was about this book that makes it the unofficial manifesto of the Republican Party, or Paul Ryan at least. (I wrote this back when this was the case, and it seemed like there was some sort of cohesion and forethought behind the GOP’s message. I've been sitting on this for a while.)

For a bit of background, normally for something that I have spent so many long hours reading, I might just say, “yea, it was ok.” Like a film I’ve just paid £20 to see. I don’t want to feel that I’ve wasted £20 on something terrible. So I pick out the good parts and that’s it. With this book, I don’t want my efforts over the past year to be for something I deem to be bad, especially after enduring and persevering through 680 pages of Ayn Rand.

That said, I have never felt such a visceral aversion to a story, especially the ending. I wanted to drop-kick this book and hte characters to feel it. The main characters have no regard for anyone other than themselves and face no consequences for any of their actions: someone kills someone, there are affairs, someone demolishes a building, they sacrifice all integrity, they lie. There are many obvious parts that a reader can spot in current political and social life, but the parallels in how some characters plot to mold society into something to their own liking so that one person/social class can do whatever they want only comes out at the end. In the following passage, lots of truths are revealed about how characters are using the general public as pawns for the gain of others. These few sentences summarise quite clearly what seems to underpin many of the issues that are spreading globally, not just in the US.

p. 623 “Men have a weapon against you. Reason. So you must be very sure to take it away from them. Cut the props from under it. But be careful. Don’t deny outright. Never deny anything outright, you give your hand away. Don’t say reason is evil – though some have gone that far and with astonishing success. Just say that reason is limited. That there’s something above it. What? You don’t have to be clear about it either. The field’s inexhaustible. ‘Instinct’ – ‘Feeling’ – ‘Revelation’ – ‘Divine Intuition’ – ‘Dialectic Materialism.’ If you get caught at some crucial point and somebody tells you that your doctrine doesn’t make sense – you’re ready for him. You tell him that there’s something above sense. That here he must not try to think, he must feel. He must believe. Suspend reason and you play it deuces wild. Anything goes in any manner you wish whenever you need it. You’ve got him. Can you rule a thinking man? We don’t want any thinking men.”

My question is: how do we still work to maintain a society that has the values that we want to see? Can we still be reasonable and listen to facts to make informed decisions? How do we discuss these topics with people who rely on their feelings and beliefs to make their decisions instead of facts? Especially when these decisions have such a profound impact on the current state of society and the future we want to create for ourselves and those who come after us.

(If you’re commenting on this and you’re being rude, I’ll delete it. What’s ‘rude’? It depends on how I feel. ;) )

Prozac for my blog Pt. II: Here's the twist!

Insert curve-ball here: the next afternoon I get a text saying that unfortunately he can’t make it for the Friday night we had planned on, that his family was moving and he had to attend a farewell dinner. Practical Olya says what I was thinking but didn’t want to. “What, he didn’t know about it before?” Stupidly borderline desperate to go out with this hot teacher, I remind him of his second availability for Saturday lunch and ask if he is still available for that. He replies with “Can I call you? I need to talk to you.” Uhh.... ok?

The ridiculousness (yes I make up words) of this call and my ensuing anger led me to tears. He tells me that I am not supposed to know what he is about to tell me, but that my bossy fucking boss had called him and told him that she didn’t want him to see me and that he should cancel the date we had planned, which she only knew about because stupid me couldn’t keep my excitement contained and my mouth shut. When he asked, “well what should I tell her?” She said to make something up and just lie, hence the fake farewell dinner. Gentleman that he is, he called to explain and apologized for lying, but that he would still like to go out for a drink and keep it on the DL if I was up for it. I was so angry at this point that I was shaking and could barely even form words. I wanted to scream. At my boss. And quit on the spot and tell her exactly what I thought of her. We agreed to meet at the place we had originally agreed upon at the same time. Luckily I hadn’t blabbed that much about this date to my boss.

I went to tell Olya, who said that if she were my boss she might have an issue with her nanny dating her son’s teacher, but that she never would have gone about it the way she did, that she would talk to me and tell me what she was thinking. I told her that he said we could still go out if I wanted to, and Practical Olya gets excited and says “good! That means he’s a real man!” I wouldn’t be properly angry unless I started crying, so I did and immediately called my mother. Mom knows best! As always. Unfortunately I had woken her up at about 7:30am Las Vegas time, but as always she was a good listener and told me exactly what I needed to hear, that my boss had no business doing that and that if I wanted to go out with this guy that I should. My mom knows how lonely I had been getting so she was happy that I had a date.

As I was getting ready Olya was putting the boys to bed and I was doing a fashion show for her and asking her advice. She is like a sister that I never had. I really do love her. I don’t know how she puts up with me. He met me outside the tube station and then we walked to this place that was super packed with people. It was nice to talk for longer than the 2-5 minutes before and after school or occasional tutoring pick-ups. Plus, this guy is ridiculously fun to look at. At some point in the evening the place gets more crowded or the music goes up or maybe I was just a bit too tipsy and couldn’t understand anything he was saying so he moved next to me and only then did I think, uh... maybe he might actually be interested in me. After a few more drinks, including tequila and champagne, I asked if I could kiss him. So basically we closed the place down. Downer of the night, someone made off with my coat. At any rate I got back home really late and the next morning my boss asked me how it had gone the night before. I just said that it was fun and we had a good time. She said “oh with the teacher?” I told her that he couldn’t make it but that I had gone out with my other friend with whom I had been trying to get together with for a proper night out for a long time. She made some silly comments like, “yea you are around kids all the time, you don’t need to be dating a teacher too.” Uh... surefuckoff. He’s not a child. (The next week she randomly says “what do you think about real estate agent guys?” I don’t think about them at all, I say. She wants me to find an apartment for the in-laws. A day in the life of being a nanny for this family.) So Hot Teacher and I decided to meet for the lunch on Saturday as well and it was nice to walk around and have lunch by the river. Although I did get a little freaked out when he mentioned that a bunch of the teachers and the headmaster of the school live in the same neighborhood, or borough, if you’re British, love. He didn’t seem to care though. He said that he told the headmaster what had happened with the awkward phone call and that the headmaster was appalled and said that she had no right and that he would talk to her, but Hot Teacher declined such an intervention for attitude checks.

Really the only thing that could actually happen is that he wouldn’t be able to do tutoring for the little dude after school twice a week as he is now scheduled and nothing would really happen to me, since of course, I know nothing of all this nonsense.

After about a month of this sneaking and being vague, I am officially over it, and I can’t wait for the school year to be over so I won’t have to hide the fact that we are seeing each other. It is strange to have to carefully discern who I can and can’t tell that I have a “B-word” boy..... *gasp* friend. It’s been a really long time since I’ve used that word. It feels like profanity when I say it! Haha. So yea, he’s my boyfriend now and I have these feelings for him that I never though I would have for anybody ever again and so much more. I feel like a giddy teenage girl! It’s nice, and will be nicer after July 8th.

We got to go to Paris together on a random trip that I was originally supposed to take with the family. I was supposed to go with the mom and the older boy, but they ended up coming back before I went. She knew that I was going to see my friend in Paris, but I confabulated that my other friend in Geneva was going too just to ensure that I would have these days off. (I hate lying.) So I went with Hot Teacher on Wednesday morning and returned Friday evening. Our trip was so nice! It was nice to not have to be on edge about who might see us together, although I was still on the look-out a bit because I knew that the grandparents and niece of my boss were in Paris at the same time. It was nice to roam around and see the sights. You want to take a boat on the river? Ok, there’s one leaving... right now. Let’s go. I was the only French speaking (somewhat) part of this duo so I did lots of the talking and it was nice to be able to actually use my French and practice. I hate looking like a tourist, so we did as the Parisians do. Chill out in the sunshine with some coffee and pastries for breakfast with the significant other. Paris is the city of love, after all. C’est la vie!

Right now (when I wrote this) I’m on vacation with the family in the Caribbean and we will have been gone for 2 weeks upon our return. We are on a beautiful island called Nevis at the Four Seasons and it is absolutely beautiful. It is a volcanic island and it is super green and lush. I am happy that the boys get a break from city life, and some clean air, and we are all getting tanned. We burned on the first day and poor littlest guy was so severely burned we had to put some numbing cream on him and give him ibuprofen to sleep. We are all peeling now and he was so cute when he figured out that he could scratch his back on the chair. I took video. The only bad part about being here is having to spend so much time with my boss and be friendly with this person that I really wish I could just never have anything to do with. I am not a fake person, or a liar of any sort, nor am I very secretive, and it is really very strange to have to be these things with her and to have to watch what I say. I am not very good at that and have ruined Christmas or birthday surprises because of it. Either that or my mom is just too smart to be fooled! Probably a bit of both.

I have really missed Hot Teacher, and it’s like the old saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder. I can’t wait to see him again and spend most of my accumulated time off with him. I am very very grateful for the technology available these days. I was able to video skype with him from my iPhone when I was on the beach this afternoon with some free time. If only there were some device that could instantaneously transport him to the beach to talk to in person, that would be great. Bedtime again, counting down the days until our reunion.

Prozac for my blog Pt. 1

So it has come to my attention that my blog is borderline manic depressive and needs some zoloft. I think the only reason that this is so is because I am very busy when I am not busy being down on life! I have since made some friends in London, although no locals, my French friends are really great and I love to hang out with them. I felt like the odd man out sometimes since they were all in relationships, mostly long distance, and I was one of the only single ones, and the only single girl in the group. I always like to go have lunch or go do anything with Charlotte and Samantha. We went to a vintage fair and had a great time together all day wandering around looking at really old clothes and then just wandering around London on the bus.

I have also since started seeing someone. No, not the guy from the train. He never called. >:P Whatever, as they (I) say. As my mom says, “he’s just. not. that. into you!” Thanks Mom. So since the start of school in September I have gawked at Nika’s teacher from afar, sticking around a bit longer to say good morning, or showing up just a few minutes late so most of the kids are gone from class to be able to squeeze in a few niceties. After drop off I would walk out the back door of the school so I could peek in the window to maybe catch a glance at him and see if he even saw me. I was happy to take Nika to Saturday morning soccer since he was one of the teachers leading it. I even got a whole 3 minutes one day of talking to him. All I learned was that he was going to the US for a big chunk of the summer by himself. I told him of my trip to Iceland that I was taking and he asked, “oh really, who are you going with?” It was a question easily left vague enough, but I made it clear I was going by myself because all my friends were busy. No mention of a boyfriend. I once had to ask him for the other teacher’s phone number to organize tutoring and I almost asked for his as well, ya know, just in case. ;)

Basically, besides the general good habit of not looking like a slob and making one’s outfit match or trying to make oneself look nice, he was the reason I was wearing different outfits and even brushing my hair in the morning. In New York I had it tied back basically every day. All that being said, did I get even the slightest inkling that he might take somewhat of an interest in me? NO! But I did it anyway. I talked about him with other nannies of boys in the same class and even my boss and one of her friends. One of the Easter fair silent auction items was a night out with Nika’s teacher and a couple of other male teachers from the school. I told my boss that I’d buy that and just take Nika’s teacher and she laughed and said “yea me too!”

The other nanny, Olya immediately said what she said about the train guy and other guys I would point out to her that I thought were attractive: “maybe he’s gay”. Her case was crushingly good. He’s very good looking, he’s well dressed, well groomed, and the biggest one, he works with little kids. Not many men can handle kids and even fewer have any patience with them. If I didn’t love her, I’d have been really angry with her for planting this seed. I even talked to my boss about it. She was convinced he wasn’t gay. I’m not a crazy stalker or anything but I did what any girl in this day and age does. I facebook-stalked him. His profile picture was him and another guy hugging. Damn. She was right. Inconsequential! I’d try anyway.

So one of my lonely roaming days off I went to the British Museum of something-or-other and after I went to a book shop that I found. I was thinking of him and his trip to camp across the US this summer when I bought Jack Kerouac’s On The Road to read and then give to him. I decided to skip all the forwards so I could finish it before Nika went on Easter break (for the entire month of April) instead of my original plan of giving it to him before summer to read while he was on the road himself. I wrote my name and location in the book which is something I always do with books I intend to exchange at hostels while traveling, but also included my phone number. When I went to give it to him I was super nervous! It was the day of the Easter fair at the school and there was another mom coming so I just stood there outside the door holding this book facing him waiting for the mom to pass and feeling my cheeks turn red. The confidence I had when I had left home had faded and I was the girl putting herself up for rejection, if he even noticed what I had written. I gave it to him and feebly mumbled that I thought he should have it since he was going to the US and it’s about a guy who travels across the US a few times and it was an American classic and he said thank you and seemed really happy about it. I walked away and was telling the other nanny, my counterpart with Nika and Danny, that I felt like an idiot and so stupid for doing that. Practical as she is, she brushed me off like I was being silly and said, “why? Just forget about it.” She knows that I have had a thing for him basically since she started working with us.

That afternoon I get a text saying thank you for the book and that I should really let him take me out for a drink to say thank you properly. Basically I died. I was elated. I couldn’t stop laughing and smiling. Olya was there, as always, and she was laughing at me laughing and getting so excited and she said “Angela, don’t get your hopes up. He’s English. He’s proper and maybe he’s just doing it to be nice.” I didn’t care, I was going to be happy and not let her maybe-he’s-gay banter interfere with my ecstatic mood. It took me a long time to even be able to reply. I was lucky that I was in the little kid play section of this museum so that my excited laughing and giggling was drowned out by kids running and yelling. I was so ridiculously happy I could scarcely contain myself.

The sun is emerging from the clouds, slowly but surely, although you won't be able to tell from this post. :)

So here’s (one of my) problem[s]: I am attracted to the wrong kind of men. I like men who keep up with their appearance, who dress well. I appreciate strong facial features and tall men. Basically, I like good looking men, and my eye is drawn to facial hair. This is all superficial attraction. I am not as shallow as I am making myself out to be right now. Anyhow, the issue is that most of the men who fall into these categories that I have specified are gay, either overtly or in a very masculine way, which is another drawing point, I should mention. Of course nothing would ever happen with these men that I spot and instantly, temporarily fall in love with because I see these men walking on the street or riding the train and here in London, even if you catch repeated stealing of glances, nothing will happen. They won’t talk to you, they won’t smile, they won’t let even the slightest grin escape from their façade of mysticism/cynicism/interest/apathy. Take your pick as to which they are concealing.

So either they are gay or in a relationship. I’m a sucker for good looks, and it’s my problem if the guy with the good looks is already in a relationship, right? I’m 25 years old. I should be able to date and not sound like an idiot when I talk about what I want to do in the future. I should already be doing it.

I noticed today that the only people who speak to others when not addressed are American. I overheard a conversation in which an older American couple surprised a British woman who was waiting for the train in an attempt to, I assume, be friendly. As a consequence, they just seemed overly chatty, nosy, and naive as they were unabashedly forthcoming with unsolicited information about their stay, where they were from, which plays or operas they had seen or wanted to see. As it seems actually, I am the cynic here. (I posted this last night, and as soon as I woke up I realized that I am probably just jealous of the Americans in that I find it hard to walk up to people and talk to them. And I'm jealous of the Brit who got to meet some new people, whether they annoyed her or not. Disregard cynicism - it's just jealousy.)

Also, I’m lonely. I have been single for a long time, and I miss the feeling of being in a relationship. I miss going on dates and holding hands with someone. I like getting to know people, and here it seems hard to start relationships even just as friends. I know that I have not exhausted all the possibilities, but there is only so much time in a day. A girl needs some time to herself sometimes too.

I’m losing perspective and/or I never had it. I want to finish school, but if I don’t get in to university here, I am not quite sure what I will do. It’s like there is a clear path drawn to university and beyond, but if I’m not on the path to university, there is no other path to take, just an air of vagueness and uncertainty. It’s hard to live life like that. When someone asks what I want to do, I have no answer. I never really knew when I was little what I wanted to be when I “grew up”, but here I am already, and I’m supposed to be doing it, whatever it is. I never knew what I wanted to do, but I never thought it would say “nanny” in my job title. I suppose if I don’t get into university with my application, I can go to school through a clearing place. I do like living in London and would prefer to stay here.

My life is depressing me right now.

In Geneva there was never anything to do, but there were people to do it with. Here, there are thousands of things to do but no one to do them with. I miss making friends.

I feel really... just... unmotivated to do anything related to my job at all. When you ask your boss for a raise and she says "I could hire 3 of you for that", it makes you realize that she thinks you're replaceable. Uh huh, she's delusional if she thinks she can pay somebody what she pays me to do ALL the things I do. I can get more, WITH my own apartment in Manhattan (which I should mention is something that she is backing out of providing for me here in London, also my second month of vacation that I was originally promised). Grocery shopping? Cleaning out the "junk drawer" in the kitchen? Changing lightbulbs? Scanning bills to email so they can be paid by someone else? Yea... not related to children!

I don't want to do this anymore. If I felt more appreciated, maybe I wouldn't mind so much. I'm getting really fed up. I am just sticking it out until I find out about schools here in London. I'm looking for schools in the U.S. too. I need a break from raising someone else's children.

I still have basically no social life. I'm getting so down. I was crossing the street the other day and saw a car from far away coming and though, "what if that car was going really fast and it hit me?" Maybe I'd meet a cute doctor at the hospital. I'm not seriously considering hurting myself, I should note. I crossed the street and I do not walk in front of cars, knowingly at least. I don't like pain. I can only imagine that a car smashing into me and potentially breaking bones hurts a lot.

I miss NYC.

I don't call it graffiti, I call it street art, even if it's just words.

This I love. Really.

I have this thing where I only buy American Apparel on American soil.

More gigantic Shepard Fairey.

Ah, the sheep's meadow. I get a tan just by looking at this picture.

Upper West Side

My all blue chucks.

View of the Time Warner buildings from the roof of my building before I left for Dubai.

Some pictures of doors in Greece. Don't ask, I just like doors.

The beginning of my life in London

Maximovo



Ah, so I have a lot to write about, but not much to say.

After my month of vacation I went back to Maximovo in Russia to take care of the kids for a month before we all came to London. This was pretty traumatic for me. The summer nanny completely ruined 100% of the work I had done in disciplining the boys. Now even perfectly behaved little Danny was throwing tantrums for not getting his sugar-encrusted fruit for breakfast. Nika has several days spent totally in time out having tantrums. With a child like Nika, you need routine. He was used to our routine in New York, and he knew what was expected of him. All of a sudden he got this older Russian woman who gave him candy when he screamed for it, and couldn’t control him. (I told her when she started not to give them candy or chocolate or sweets. Apparently the boys’ mother also told her repeatedly not to give them sweets too.) I was appalled when I walked into the boys’ room when she was putting Danny down for a nap and she was sitting in a chair next to his bed while he was sitting in his bed and she was feeding him pieces of chocolate bar. I told their mother, but I should have gone and taken the chocolate away from her or something.


I forgot to mention, this Russian nanny doesn’t speak any English. She speaks Russian and German. I speak English, French, what little Spanish I remember that doesn’t come out in French, and only a few bad phrases in German. (Thanks A2!) Communicating with her was very difficult. I got Nika to stop misbehaving SO much, which ended up being only about a 10% improvement. At one point, Rita (Russian nanny) gave Nika some chocolate something-or-other, and I took it away, since it was almost lunch time, and I told him he could have some after lunch if he behaved. She gave him something else and he tried to run off with it and hide in the house he had made of blankets and pillows, and I took it away and told him he could have some after lunch again. Rita called him over, they went around the corner, and 5 seconds later they came back around. I knew what they were doing and I was immediately so angry I was really surprised. I wasn’t just angry, I was furious. It had been years since I was so angry, if I had ever even been that upset. I was so angry the rest of the day that I couldn’t even look at her. It took a really long time for that feeling to fade. It was terrible.

I reimplemented time out’s, and it was met with much hostility from more than just the boys. Rita thought I was torturing the boys: I was apparently teasing them with candy and then putting them in a chair away from everybody, then outside of they kept screaming for misbehaving. (I should mention, that in Russian culture, it’s an insult if someone says that your child behaves well, like an adult. Children are supposed to be wild and crazy and run around and do whatever they want.) Then, after a while, when Rita sleep in the bed she had made for herself, she switched to my method and put the boys in time out. But instead of doing it in stages and giving them a warning before they went to the time-out chair, then putting them outside if they kept on screaming, she just put them outside with no warning. They didn’t understand why they were getting in trouble. Ugh! Never again! I had to start from scratch, from before scratch! with the discipline for the boys.

It was good that I went to speak English with them because he started school only 3 days after we arrived in London. Nika remembered his English, but he took a while to formulate his answers when we would talk. Danny refused to talk to me in English in the beginning. Even a month later after we arrived in London he would speak to me in Russian first, then I’d have to say “what?” and he would repeat in English. He did the same at school. Now both of them are doing well with their English. Nika doesn’t work well in school though. He’s too easily distracted. All the boys know Nika, because he gets up and jumps around and runs around the classroom, and the teacher is always telling him to sit down. “Nika sit. Nika, stop that. Nika, Nika, Nika!” Nika doesn’t know the other boys, but everybody knows him, and he knows it.

Enough about kids. I had a birthday a week after we arrived. I was lucky only because the boys’ dad’s parents were here from California, and Viola made me some napoleon for my birthday, and insisted on buying me a birthday cake. Other than that, my birthday was terrible and I hope I never have another birthday like that. I had no friends or family there, just work, and the family had a housewarming party that day. So not only was I watching Nika and Danny, there were other kids there who were misbehaving, and everybody was speaking Russian. All I could do was to wait for time to pass and for bedtime for the boys. Boss-man, and woman, told me that I should go out and at least have a walk after the boys went to bed, so I did. It was nice to get out of the house, but it was even more depressing to me after I walked by all the bars and restaurants crowded with people who were friends. I didn’t feel right going into a bar by myself when it was so crowded and buying myself a drink. I was so depressed that I didn’t have any of my friends or family to celebrate with. One of my old friends in San Antonio sent me flowers, and that was nice. It’s not the same as having people to go out with.

I got to go back to New York in mid-October for a week to get my visa. This is after 2 months of non-stop working in Russia and London. The family hired another woman to take care of Danny and speak Russian with him, and her first week was with me and the boys' mom gone. Poor Olya! So I got a UK work visa and then flew from NYC to Dubai to meet the family there. It was really nice and warm. The beach was nice, the pool was nice, but as with every vacation that I go on with the family, it's not a vacation for me. It's work. I can't sit on the beach and soak up some sun with a margarita and a book or friends, I'm slathering sunscreen onto little boys and trying to keep them from drowning in the sea or pool. See, if I were on vacation, I would not have had to deal with the fact that Danny made a huge, messy poo in the pool. If I were on vacation, I would have had my name on the list several times a day for massage on the beach. If I were on vacation, I would go out to dinner with some cool person who I chose to go on vacation with. We did get to see the world's tallest building and go into the world's only 6 star hotel for afternoon tea. Anyway, the flight back to London was terrible, too. Of course, mom and dad were in first class as they tossed us back into economy. Mom got Nika a big-gulp-size juice before the flight, so he had to go to the toilet literally every 5 minutes before, during, and after take-off, and while the guys were coming with the drink carts. Danny on the other hand, made a poo in his pants. :) (Ilovemyjobilovemyjobilovemyjob.)

And so it went. It has been over 3 months and I still haven’t made many friends. When I went to open my bank account the person who works there gave me his phone number, and we actually got together one afternoon, but that was it. I made friends with a couple of girls, but they both went home for the holidays, back to France. (At least I will be able to practice my French... soon.)

The highlight of this post: I met the most gorgeous man on the underground. I was waiting around for the train to go to yoga after I dropped Nika at school and this man comes onto the platform and asks me if the next train was going all the way to the end of the line. I had no idea since there were delays on the train that day. We started chatting while waiting for the train and the platform soon filled up. We got on the crowded train and were smashed up against the masses of people who were already on the train and the people who were trying to get on. Since I was smashed between some tall man’s ribcage and a talking directly into an Asian lady’s ear, I felt a too shy to ask him for his number. Before I got off the train I shook his hand, smiled and edged my way out of the train. I couldn’t stop thinking of him the whole time. I ended up at yoga and kept thinking of him and hoping that he might try to figure out how to get in contact with me. All I got was his first name and where he was from. It’s impossible to Facebook stalk people based on this limited amount of information. It was pretty pathetic on my part for even trying. :P So I decided that I’d go back the next day. Unfortunately, Nika’s mom took him to school since there was a teacher conference that day. I told my friend back in San Antonio about this guy and she seemed to brush it off and said “that sort of thing only happens in movies”. I told my new French friend the story and she said the same thing.

I went back to the same station every day the next week at the same time, and waited until about the time that I saw him, then I went to another platform for a different train to either go home or go to the other yoga studio. Every day I felt more and more ridiculous. The platform monitor man who tells the trains when the doors are clear was always there and he’d see me watch train after train go by, waiting around for who knows what. I felt so silly every day and exponentially moreso as each day passed. One night I was talking to my mom and I told her about the guy and how I wish I could have gotten his number and I told her what I was doing about going to the station and waiting there. As she would say, she was pegate lele. She couldn’t stop laughing, and it was the laugh she has when she can’t breathe. Thanks for laughing at me Mom! It was funny though. She encouraged me to go do that and maybe I’d see him again. So the next day I headed over there and told myself that this was the last day I’d do that, and if I didn’t see him, it wasn’t meant to be. I felt like everybody knew that I was waiting around for this guy that would probably never end up going to work late again and like everybody was ridiculing me, especially the platform monitor man, and then as I stood by the wall, guess who walks onto the platform! The elusive Mystery Man himself! He sees me and says “Oh hey, Angela, right?” We talked and boarded the next train. I knew I would literally want to kick myself if I didn’t ask for his number, but silly, shy little ole me, what do I do? Instead of asking for his number and just asking him if we could get together sometime not involving public transit chance meetings, I ask him for his last name and if I could Facebook stalk him. (Smack myself on forehead with painful expression on face.) It would have been less humiliating if I had just asked him for his number. Then I sent him a message, once I found him, and asked if he wanted to go out before he left for Australia for the holidays. Strangely enough, or not, he agreed and we went out for dinner-ish on a weeknight before he flew to Australia on Saturday.

I was so nervous. He is amazingly good looking and I haven’t been on a first date in..... uhh.... basically since I lived in California. I feel like I didn’t talk much, or have anything useful to say. Anyway, it’s all ok. We will see if we go out again. (Fingers crossed, please!) He won’t be back until after the new year.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this though. After my last boyfriend and I broke up, it hurt so much I just kept thinking that love wasn’t worth feeling as bad as I did. I distanced myself from having a relationship, especially when I lived in France because I knew that I wasn’t going to be there for very long and didn’t want to end up heartbroken at the end of the year. But maybe it’s like me and marathons. The day after I always tell myself that I’ll never do another one as I inch my way towards the edge of the bed to get up, in constant, full-body pain. Even my skin and organs seem to ache. Then a month later I’m looking for the next race I want to register for. But the thing is that marathons are nowhere near as much fun as being in a relationship with someone you love and who loves you.

In New York it was really hard to meet people, and here it is too. I am looking forward to meeting more people here, making some friends, and going out with Mr. Aussie again. :) I'm off to work on my personal statement for my university application here in London.

"The views expressed in this blog are not necessarily the views of the author." Also known as, my summer vacation.

My very generous month of vacation that I was required to take in the summer was nice. I decided to spend it in San Antonio, thinking that staying with my parents and seeing family and friends in SA would be a sound financial decision, that I might spend less money there, since I’m trying to save to travel for 2 months next summer. I was really wrong. And although seeing family was nice, staying with my parents for a month was a terrible, terrible decision that I will never make again. All of a sudden, it was like I was 15 years old again with the curfews and questions and “clean your room”. (I’d like to note that my room was indeed clean when I left.) I guess I thought that since I have been living on my own, working and paying bills, and most importantly, caring for children, driving with them, handling them in a big city alone, that I would have some brownie points marked under “responsible”, but no. In my dad’s eyes, I was still the bony, argumentative little girl who wanted her way or the highway, and he was still the man who wanted his way or the highway. My poor mother, as always, was stuck in the middle, and for that I am truly sorry. I love her so much, I just want her to be happy, but my visits home put so much stress on her that I’m surprised she doesn’t have a situational substance abuse problem.

On a lighter note, I had an amazing time seeing old friends, making new ones, and spending time with family. I arrived in Austin and my old friend Chris picked me up from the airport and let me crash on his couch. Only after I slept on it did he divulge that he and his roommate had actually picked it up from the side of the street. Luckily they did clean it up. I ended up sleeping on it a night more than I expected because my friend I know from San Francisco was driving from SF to NYC and was running a bit late on his schedule. Jose arrived on July 5th in the afternoon, and it was so nice to see him. I traveled with Jose in Greece and had a wonderful time. I was so happy he was finally in Texas! Chris and his roommate were so hospitable too. They welcomed not only me, but Jose to their place like an old friend. They took us to this local swimming hole to swim for the afternoon and we had a great time swinging from the rope swing and catching up over a couple of beers and flotation devices. When we got back to their house they cooked up this random and amazing dinner, complete with “darn-goods” for dessert. After letting our food settle and chilling out for a bit, Jose and I headed to San Antonio at around 12am. I misunderstood my mother when she said, “just stay there” and I said “we’re coming tonight”. She didn’t leave the door unlocked, like I assumed she would, so I unfortunately woke her up. Not a great introduction for Jose and my mom. Jose stayed a couple of nights in San Antonio. The FIFA world cup was in the finals so we watched a couple of times. I took Jose to downtown San Antonio and showed him the Alamo and the Riverwalk, and we ate at Casa Rio and just chilled out by the river after a walk around downtown. We arrived right at the right time, which meant that we didn’t have to wait for a table, and also that they had people waiting the whole time. The server came about 5 times to see if we had paid our bill = annoying as hell.

Jose eventually had to get a move on the next day to make his way to New York in time to catch his flight to Prague, and New Orleans was his next destination. I decided at the last minute that I would accompany him to New Orleans, then find a train/plane/bus to get back to San Antonio. It was nice to extend my visit with Jose, and as always, I had fun traveling with him. Due to the fact that we stopped to have dinner, and got lost in Houston in the rain, we ended up stopping for the night after the Louisiana border. It’s silly, but I even had fun watching late night trash TV (MTV of course) with him. We made it to New Orleans the next day and our first order of business was to get a drink. Hurricanes in hand, the second order of business was to find a place to sleep for the night that wasn’t super expensive. With the second order of business checked off the list the third order of business was to get another drink and walk around. This we did all afternoon. It was lots of fun, and we somewhat stumbled our way back to our hotel at night after some random corner concert.

You know you have a good friend when he wakes up early after a day of drinking to take you to the bus station. I sadly parted ways with Jose at the Greyhound station in New Orleans, and went to pick up my bus ticket back to San Antonio. I don’t think I will ever, EVER, voluntarily take a bus long-distance, through the South (yes capital S in South), again. Beyond the cramped quarters and nonsensical chatter I overheard was a smell that seemed to be exuding from my obese neighbor. I just tried to read a book and sleep as much as possible. I wonder what effect that awful smell has on dreams.

I went to Austin soon after that for Kellee’s birthday celebration. Again, I stayed with Chris, who came out to have a drink with us on 6th Street. I had never really done the whole partying on 6th Street thing (come to think of it, I did only once before I moved to France) and it was fun. Mostly hanging out with Kellee and Chris, since those were the only people I knew. Debi ended up coming with us really late, and had to leave early, so we didn’t see much of her. I drove back home the next day and got back to San Antonio with nothing planned, and nothing to do for the rest of the month. I got to go to a party with a bunch of people from Churchill attending and it was really nice to celebrate Kellee’s birthday (again) with them. After lots of beer pong, it turned out that I am SO GOOD at that game and played with a high school friend until very late. By the end of the night I was just catching up with an old friend of mine when some drunk idiot comes and starts yelling at me because I elaborated on his comments about Sarah Palin. Unfortunately for that guy, my comments were not in her favor and he didn’t like it. I successfully shut down every case he brought up and then he was literally in my face, about 2 inches away from my nose, standing over me while I sat in a lawn chair, yelling at me asking what I DO believe in, because it was clear I didn’t believe in what he did. Having recently returned from Russia, and wanting to see his reaction, I told him I believed that the United States should become Soviet, like the good ole USSR. He was irrate after this, and only after that was it brought to my attention that someone was behind me with a video camera. (This video hasn’t surfaced yet.) I didn’t get home until 5am after sitting and chatting with old friends, and my dad was thoroughly convinced that I drove home trashed. His evidence? The fact that I inadvertently rubbed the side of the tires on the curb and scrapped the tires, not the wheel, and marked the curb. I think he was mostly mad about the fact that his tire and curb were no longer in pristine condition. It didn’t matter that the party was just “down the road a piece”, as we say in the South. There’s that capital S again.

I was basically grounded after that, and ended up getting Elisa to come pick me up to go hang out at her house and help her move in. In reality, we just went shopping for a few things she needed and went to lunch. I take pride in the fact that I installed the remote control holder for her ceiling fan and made sure that her curtain rod was even. After that we just watched How I Met Your Mother.

Nobody gets my "I can see Russia from my house" reference.

I have quite a bit of news, kind of. :) I'm in San Antonio right now at my parent's house just hanging out for all of July. I went to Russia with the family and had an amazing time. I absolutely loved it! So when their mother asked me to go get a business, multiple-entry visa for a year for Russia, I said "OK!" We arrived in Moscow after an overnight flight and stayed for one night. The next day we went out to the country house that is SUPER old and in a tiny town, with maybe 10 houses in the whole village. There isn't even a grocery or a post office. There is a truck with a bunch of groceries in the back that drives slowly through the town pressing on the horn the whole time and if you want food you go out to the street. Or they just eat the food from their farms. It is really beautiful there and I'm happy I got to go. After the summer nanny got there and got used to the kids a bit, I got to go to St. Petersburg and Moscow. Unfortunately, I did not have a Lonely Planet, or anything in English except for a guide of the Kremlin in Moscow. My boss got me a flight to St. Petersburg, and a tour guide, and told the office manager at the office they have in St. Petersburg to give me whatever I wanted and pay for my train ticket to Moscow. I also got to stay in their apartment in St. Petersburg, that is in the best area, close to everything. I wandered around the canals and looked at all the old buildings and monuments. I went to this crazy museum (see Kunstcamera photo album) and to Peterhoff, these gardens and palace that make Versailles look like someone's small hobby garden, apparently. I've never been to Versailles though. I took an overnight train from St. Petersburg to Moscow and it was nice. What I really wanted to do was go to the dinner car and chat up some locals, but all the people in my cabin seemed set on going to sleep, and locked the door, so I figured I wouldn't disturb them by going in and out, especially since I was on the top bunk. There were 4 people in one cabin.

Moscow was much more of a "do-it-yourself" kind of adventure. I don't speak Russian, I don't read in Russian, and I didn't have internet at the apartment to look things up, since I also did not have a guide book. So I just lied when I said I don't speak Russian, because I learned to ask "where is Red Square" and "where is Tverskaya Street" and I know how to say things like "why are you crying", "what do you want", "do you want to eat". So I left the apartment one afternoon, after getting over my introverted nature and the fact that I most likely wouldn't be able to communicate with anyone over the age of 5, and walked to the big intersection looking for a taxi the whole way. I still had some money left over from what my boss had given me in roubles, but I wanted to conserve it. I went to the corner stand and asked the woman there if she spoke English. (So that's another thing that I learned to ask, if someone speaks English. Thanks Pimsleur.) She said no and I asked her for a map, in English, then in Spanish, and I couldn't remember in French. I pointed to one and she said "oh, cart", or something like that. I opened it up and it was written in Cyrillic, so I learned to read in Russian. I saw a woman who didn't look like she would be terribly burdened if I bothered her and asked her in my best Russian "Where is Red Square?" She replied correctly, as Pimsleur said, "Red Square is there" as she pointed to a point on my map. I took the bus to the metro station, bought 2 tickets at the metro station and went down the really long, D.C.-like escalator. I walked around following the signs with the red stripe on the train, since I needed the red line. I walked and walked and it seemed like a long time. I had no idea where I was going. There was a tunnel that split off into three tunnels like in the cartoons of things that get flushed down the toilet and have to decide which tunnel will lead them to the safety of the ocean, and NONE of these tunnels had signs. I went up the escalator thinking that my red-striped train might be in a different tunnel, but it turned out I just went up the exit, and despite my pleading looks and saying "pajalasta!" (please) repeatedly, the stone-looking guard woman made me pay again. So I just went down and sat on a bench at a platform having no clue where I was or where I was going. A train came and I tried to read what it said, and then read my map, and I stopped, thinking, "I don't know what train this is". I thought again and said to myself "What the hell, at least I'll be going somewhere and not just sitting here on this platform trying to read." So I ran on and it turned out that it was the right one.

Red Square was nice and big and... well... red! The bricks on the buildings were red and the ground was red. Lots of memorial stuff, most of which I could not read. I went to the Kremlin and got an audio guide in English which was really helpful. The churches and buildings there are all so old and big and beautiful. What makes them even more remarkable is that they survived WWII. Apparently 22 million Russians were killed by Nazi's. All of St. Petersburg was blocked and nobody could go in or out. For 2 years there was no food and many people died. There were people who would try to drive over the lakes and take people out in the winter when they were frozen, but the Nazi's started to bomb the lakes to break the ice. There is a special word in Russian for the people who survived those years with a small square of bread to eat that was given to them, but there is no translation to English.

Anyway, in the Kremlin I also went to the Diamond Fund, which is apparently the largest collection of diamonds in the world. There were definitely a lot of diamonds, but I was expecting to see big mountains that would require a dump truck to transport, but really, all you would need is a big bucket. They were indeed beautiful though. Some were rough, some were smoothed or cut, and some were placed in jewelry. Very beautiful stuff, but I couldn't even take my bag in, so no pictures.

This is where I met the Obnoxious American. I was waiting outside the metal detector to go into this big room with the diamonds and I see/hear this overweight woman coming up the stairs, so proud of herself and telling the guard "See! I did it! I don't have it anymore!" She comes to wait in line behind me and says the same thing to the female guard by the door, and opens her bag to show that she no longer has her camera or phone. The guard just nods her head and says something to me in English, "wait here" I think she said, and I replied "ok". The Obnoxious American says "you speak good English!" leaning forward with her hands in fists on her hips. I said "well I should!" She asked if I was American and I said yes, and automatically she goes to telling me her story as to why she is in Russia and her critiques of the Russian culture and people. She was there with a group of students she said, although I didn't see ANY students, or groups there, and she said she had bronchitis from the cigarette smoke and that the people were really sloppy. I tried to say in my skeptic voice, "not really", but she wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise. I tried to explain that it was probably the difference in vehicle emission standards that prompted her bronchitis, and to ask if she had ever been to Rome or to Greece, but clearly she hadn't, because Moscow is spic-n-span, especially compared to Athens. It's cleaner than New York! I think it would be safe to say that she had never left her home state of Ohio. Oh yea, and she had a ridiculous matching fanny pack and foam visor. Countries of the world, please don't think all American's are like this!

I know it's been an obscene amount of time since I've written any update email whatsoever, so this one will just skim over the time lapsed between the last one up until now.

Potty trained twin boys, taught the seven-year-old to read in English, improved my French... and I think that might be it.

The thing that has impressed me about Greece is how crazy this country and it's people are. The people always seem to be yelling at each other, angrily or friendly. There are stray dogs and cats alllllll over the place, including in restaurants roaming in and out looking for fallen scraps. There are kids walking around all day playing music or trying to sell you things when they should probably be in school. They park wherever they feel like it, including in the MIDDLE of traffic at a roundabout. They love their Christianity. The so-called "Bible Belt" has nothing on this country. They LOVE to smoke anytime, anywhere: indoors, outdoors, in restaurants. The guy serving you or cooking is probably smoking, with cats running around on the floor. And they LOVE coffee at anytime of the day.

As for now, I'm in Greece with my friend Jose on vacation for a few weeks before returning to the good ole US of A. Our original plan was to run the Athens Classic Marathon, but injured Jose bailed and I ran it solo. It was surprisingly fun, and went by pretty quickly, just like everything in my life. I didn't train for this race whatsoever, and astonishingly, I only added 9 minutes to my last race time to finish at 5 hours 29 minutes. I was in some severe pain the days after, but it was ok. We ended up staying in Athens for a few days since it took me so long to walk around from monument to museum to archeological site, then went to Delphi for a day trip. That was kind of a joke because we were on a bus 4 hours each way, and only stayed an hour and a half in Delphi. It rained the whole time, except for when we were going up the steps to where they supposedly kept the Oracle. I didn't see anything spectacular until I turned around and looked out over the valley with the lake and the little town. It was really pretty.

I'm going to borrow Jose's wording and talk about when we were accosted by an overly friendly Greek lady who, after learning of our inability to speak Greek, proceeded to spend the next half hour telling us what to order from this bakery, and then telling us where we should go all over town. She took our Lonely Planet and wrote all over the maps underlining the things she approved of and crossing out the things she didn't like. I really liked this lady.

After Delphi we ventured to Nafplio, the ancient capitol of Greece. It's a very quaint town by the water and the place we stayed had some great views of the castle and the bay. The castle is nice, although there were no explainations for anything anywhere except arrows proclaiming "Archeological site", or "Achilles' Bastion". I'm kind of strange and I count things, and I counted up to 300 stairs going up the mountain, and then I lost count and gave up. It was hot. I was tired. It was high up the mountain.

After two nights in Nafplio we took an overnight ferry to Crete. I wondered aloud "do you think they'll give us beds on the ferry?" To which Jose said "Of course. They have to. It's overnight." Of course, they didn't, and we slept on couches in a huge room with a bunch of other people. It was actually very nice. Sleeping there was alright, except for the lights. There was a man that worked on the ferry who walked by us when we were taking up probably too much of a huge bench-couch thing and he was telling us something, but the only indication that he was speaking to us was his very loud proclaimation of "Parakalo! Blah blah blah stuff in Greek." For some reason this was really funny to us because he was not happy, but we had no clue what it was.

After a failed attempt to find a campground that doesn't exist, we wandered around Hania for a while and found a place to stay and made plans to go hike the Samaria gorge the next day. The next day comes around and we go to the bus station to get the bus and there were no more as the only one that goes to Samaria on a Sunday leaves at 7:30am. Oh well. We made our way to Iraklio and found some things to do. We went to see some ruins in Knossos yesterday but as Jose says "I don't get feelings from rocks!"

Now we're in Santorini. It's very nice and the water is reallllly cold. I thought that there was a big concrete slab in the water, but Jose swam further out than I did and said it was still there, and we came to the conclusion that it was one huge rock from the volcano. Very interesting. Somehow we need to make our way back to Athens for me to catch my flight back to Germany to see my brother and the fam for Thanksgiving, then take the train back to Geneva to get my stuff from the house and see the kiddies again, then go to NYC to see some more friends (and find a job and apply to schools).

I know it's been WAY too long since I've sent an update. When I have time off, I'm usually trying to catch up on my running or trying to relax. These kids can be exhausting. They're really great and I've got the boys saying "Check ya later" and "Excellent!", among other things like "please" and "thank you" of course. I attempted to start a blog to keep you all updated, but it didn't work out. At any rate, I'm still here in France. I am very (VERY VERY VERY) excited that my cousin Elisa and I are going to travel during my 2 weeks off when the family goes on vacation. We have our trip planned and places to stay and I'm very happy for her to come visit! If only there were more time... *sigh* I've been doing well here and have been training to run in yet another marathon. Yes, I'm a bit crazy, but, ya know. After the first one I said I would never do it again, then after the second I said the same thing, yet here I am training for another. I'm going to be running from Marathon to Athens, Greece with some friends and if things work out, I'll be spending almost all of November in Greece backpacking with my SF marathon running partner! Life is pretty good.

I do have some sad news. Geronimo isn't doing so well. He's been sick for quite sometime and just recently has begun to eat less and less, and is coughing more and more, a result of his heart murmer and fluid in his lungs. It's been a LONG, long road and one of the hardest decisions I've had to make, but next Saturday the 8th I'll be taking him to his final visit to the vet. Luckily, Elisa will be here with me to help me through, and I have another week after to come to grips with it some more until I join her for our "Elisa and Angela take over Europe" adventure. He's an old dog at almost 16 years old, and I've had him since I was 8 years old when "Santa" brought him for Christmas. It's definitely going to be hard. He's been a good dog, and an amazing companion as we've quite literally grown up and old together. From the days when he used to chase racoons up into trees when we lived by the park, to when he used to run away and come back (a bit tipsy maybe??) at 3am. He's been quite literally from coast to coast in the US and across the big pond to Europe. He came with us to the top of Mont Blanc, well almost to the top. He was there for our Italian adventure to Venice, Rome and Pisa in 3 days, and to the south of France when we've gone with the family. He's quite the traveled pooch and most people can't say they've been to as many places as G. These days, I don't think he's happy, other than his travels, so I'm glad that he'll not be in pain and he'll be happy again when he goes to be with God. To those of you who know him, please keep him in your thoughts and send him (and me) some good vibes to help us through.

Some France

I am having a wonderful time here, and I think that Geronimo is too, although he doesn't' like the snow. I didn't like it too much either until today. I went snow shoe-ing for the first time today, part of a sort of compromise with my friend who loves to ski. Last night was LOTS of fun, which usually makes for a rough morning. (Another story all together!) We went up the mountain from where I live, which is literally 10 or 15 minutes driving. We parked and rented racettes (snow shoes) and took off. It was so amazingly beautiful. It was so silent! When I looked up to see the trees, it reminded me of Yosemite or Muir Woods. I guess it's just me missing home. We got to the top, Le Turet, and realized that we were quite literally on the top of a mountain, and looking out at the Alps and Mont Blanc. The view from up there was so different than the view from home. Being up there made me realize, even if just a little bit, how immense and high up it is. The atmosphere fogs the view from the towns at the bottom, and on the top it was so much more clear. It was so amazing! I think I'll go back tomorrow, and take a lunch and eat up there. In the summer I am definitely going to hike up there, and if possible, camp up there.

The kids are doing well and responding more and more to me. They're usually very good, but sometimes, I understand why it's called the "terrible two's". The boys are learning English extremely easily since they're just learning to speak at all, and it's very good. Emily is doing well too, but she gets the sentence structure mixed up. Her dad has let her down by not speaking English to her or correcting her English. Almost every question she asks me I repeat correctly and ask her to repeat before I answer her. I think she gets frustrated that she doesn't say it right, but she's learning. Hopefully next weekend my friends and I will go to Chamonix in the Alps! One of my good friends from CA will be passing through on his way from Italy to Ireland so I am looking forward to seeing my friend and going to the Alps.

As much as I love being here, learning French, I miss home. And as much as I enjoy spending time with my new friends here, I miss my friends from home. I've never been homesick before, but I think that after 3 months of living in France, I'm just beginning to get a little homesick. I couldn't find baking soda at the grocery store, so I went to ask, and of course, didn't know the name for it in French. I went home, asked the kid's mom, she looked for it in the store too, didn't find it. I went to a different grocery store and finally found it hidden behind a post. (At that same grocery store I was walking around with a stupid grin on my face because they were playing YMCA by Men at Work, and THEN the chicken dance song... in FRENCH! I didn't know such a thing existed.) So 3 weeks later, I got the baking soda that I needed for the cookies. It's hard for me to find anything here. And I miss being able to communicate with people and know where to go to find something that's hard to find, and I miss knowing where things are. Mostly, I miss my mom's breakfast taco's. The kid's dad was frying potatoes today and he cracked a couple of eggs over the and I looked at him and said "Oh! That's how my mom makes her tacos." And just walked away. I was so sad! As much as I miss home, I don't get too down about it. It's not like it will do me any good to be depressed. So I eat lots of awesome baguettes, pain chocolat, good cheese, and awesome French wine! Ha! And no I'm not fat now, I just like to think about the things that are good, that I can't get in the US. So this update is getting too long. Hopefully you are all doing well and enjoying life on the other side of the pond.

I'm moving to France!

I am writing to update you on the status of my life! I am here in DC after a long, very fun road trip from San Francisco. We stopped in the Grand Canyon, Santa Fe, NM, Carlsbad Caverns, San Antonio, Memphis, Nashville, and then made it to DC by election day. Luis was lucky enough to find a wonderful apartment very quickly and just half a block from the metro. DC is wonderful and I'm so happy I was able to spend some time here before I leave. Geronimo and I are flying out Saturday afternoon to Geneva! We will be in a town called Gex (pronounciation anybody?) in France. I'll be taking care of a 6 year old girl and 2 year old twin boys. I'm looking forward to spending time in France and learning French! I'll be taking French classes twice a week while the kids are in school. The parents are very nice and also very open and up-front about things, which is nice and very important if you are going to live where you work. They live on a hill in the Alps and go skiing a lot, so hopefully I won't hurt myself considering I've only been skiing once. I'm really happy about going, although it will be sad to leave. I still miss San Francisco, but I know I can go back whenever I want, and the same is true for anywhere.