nBlog

OK, as you already know, my little meerkitten brother came visiting for the holidays. And as you already heard (or read, if your read attentively) he had the most awesome present for hubby and me.

t was so incredibly awesome on so many levels that I spontaneously broke into tears when I unwrapped and saw the gift. Even my dirty-harry-hardfaced hubbylove teared up a bit (but don’t tell him I told you). And despite being still a little sick and exhausted from Christmas joy, I was too hyper to sleep until 5 AM because I was working on realizing the awesomeness of our present and the incredible generosity and kindness behind it.

I have wanted a “real” camera forever and ever. I more and more felt that my crappy point-and-shoot was not up to what I wanted to do, and I really wished for a DSLR.

Before we bought the house, my and hubby’s plans regarding this were more or less like “OK, if we save money, in one or two years, we’ll buy one”.

But then along came the house. As some of you might have followed a year ago, we were in a really stressful situation at home and had to move out. We jumped into the adventure of buying a house rather quickly, and all our monies went into it, and will go into the mortgage for, well… centuries.

So the plans of getting a DSLR went down the drain. Apart from the mortgage, this is an old house that needs repairs. Sudden surprises like mold in unexpected places eat up resources like nothing else, believe me.

Do you know when you wish for something really badly, but you know it’s just not possible, not ever will be possible? You push it so far away that it is almost nonexistant anymore.

But still, being a true friend, and doing quite our share of photography talk amongst us, the meerkitten knew all of this.

So Christmas Eve. The candles on the tree are burning, we have sung sufficiently many Christmas carols, read the Christmas Story, and now it’s time to unwrap the presents. We all are quite happy with everything: Books, some games, some trinkets, some more books. Then, my son brings to me a cute, unobtrusive box…

(more…)

So 2008 is drawing to an end. I remember the last New Year’s Eves clearly. All of them sweet, surrounded by friends and loved ones. But all of them summing up a year that was nothing less than difficult.

I remember how my husband and I toasted each other, praying: “May the next year be better than the last. May it finally be better.”

It never was, not really. And I came to the conclusion that this, probably, is life. That there is no such thing as unfettered love and happiness. Who am I to know? (more…)

… and all that is left to do is sending Christmas blessings out to you all.

I am sorry that my Audio Autumn did not last longer. There is so much more music to share. But major changes occured in my life. I will let you in on all of them, comes time. Promised.

I’ll also dive into another project soon, in January. Chances are good that it will be photos again, the Worth photogs are preparing for another 30-days-challenge.

So stay tuned. Things will happen.

Try to be true to yourself. Love matters.

Xmas wishes 2008

No more Bush-bashing from tomorrow on. Either way.

This is pretty darn interesting.

If the world could vote.

Noticed how countries with non-democratic tendencies tend towards McCain? *g*

Well, no secret what I would vote, right? Although, on the other hand… McCain and Palin would probably make even better laughing stock than Mr. George W. Or almost.

Question #3 by V1c: Do you have a philosphy on history and how it is used? I believe you have experiences (in real time) living in more than one country, no? How does history and the use of history vary from country to country and what are the positive and/or negative aspects of such fluid histories? Is there actually one true history or does it change because people’s perceptions of events are so amazingly different even if all in the same room when something happens?

Heh. Lovely, V1c. This has been one of my favorite topics of conversation for quite a while when I was still studying (history, btw.)

Yes, I do have a philosophy on history. And that is that all history repeats itself. Although we might grow and develop, we tend to make the same mistakes over and over. It was one of the reasons why I studied history at all. I believe that is we know history, and follow the events around us, we will to a certain degree be able to predict what will happen.

I found this to be true.

Being able to predict this isn’t going to help anyone, but I only found that out much later. At the time, I thought knowledge was power, and knowledge would enable me to change the world. Heh. (more…)

I called the police today.

I was visiting a friend yesterday, and she told me some stuff about her neighbors. They are both alcoholics and junkies, and they’re got 2 kids: A boy aged 2, and a little baby, 6 months old.

They do not care about the kids at all. Every second or so night, the guy demolates the whole flat, kicks in doors and such, and they both beat up each other. They use the baby buggy for transporting beer bottles rather than their baby. And by the middle of the month, they’re totally out of money (which is social welfare money anyways).

My friend called the youth care dep. twice, but they didn’t do anything, obviously. And she won’t call again: The guy is threatening her. Being a single mom, she has to protect her kids, she sais.

So I went to the police. (more…)

OK, when I said no more Bush-bashing… I lied.

A friend of mine, an American Citizen from Rhode Island, wrote this article concerning the president’s opinion on war “casualties”.

“I stared at the newspaper headline for several long seconds. I could not believe what I was reading. The headline and the story that ran beneath it attempted to summarize President Bush’s address to the American people the night before. That address was aimed at winning more support for the ongoing U.S. military action in Iraq.

Three words from the headline gripped me by the throat: “Worth the Sacrifice…” Worth the sacrifice, huh? It was a strong statement, and so I gave it serious thought. This led me to wonder how someone who had NOT lost a close relative in the fighting could make such a bold determination. Shouldn’t this rather have been a determination rendered by the families of those who were lost in this conflict? By that I mean the mothers and fathers and wives and husbands and sons and daughters of our brave fallen soldiers.

Then I tried to put a more personal spin on the situation by asking myself a simple question. Would I as a parent be willing to trade the life of my son or daughter for the mere possibility of attaining democracy in Iraq? The answer was a profound NO! Okay. How about a guarantee of attaining democracy in Iraq? Again a profound NO!

I subsequently decided to take the Q & A session a bit further…much further, actually. Would I as a parent be willing to trade the life of my son or daughter even if it meant world peace for all of eternity? In other words, some divine being comes down from the heavens and makes an offer that would result in a devastating personal loss for me in exchange for an idyllic existence for everyone else on the planet. This may sound a bit selfish on my part, but the answer again would be a profound NO!

In each instance my answer came quickly and easily, and with good reason. For what are any of these supposedly great end-results worth in the absence of our most cherished prizes of all – our loved ones? To my way of thinking, not a whole lot. And, in the case of Iraq, we’re not exactly talking about sacrificing ONE person to satisfy our President’s seemingly blind ambition. At last count, America’s price tag for this endeavor had exceeded 2,000 of our finest young men and women. And what of the more than 100,000 estimated dead among Iraq’s women, children and other “casualties” of war?

The President is constantly mentioning how most Iraqi people are supportive of the actions he has undertaken in that country. This information may or may not be true (I’ve learned to be a little skeptical of the President’s “sources”). Be that as it may, I find myself wondering whether the families of those 100,000+ local innocents killed are truly looking forward to the possibility of attaining democracy in their country.
Do they care anymore? Have they ever cared? Should they care? How can they think kindly about this so-called democracy without also thinking long and hard about the price that has been paid in blood? Was it indeed “worth the sacrifice” to them as well?

This brings me to the subject of value. What sort of value should one place on a human life? How about 2,000 human lives? Or 100,000? Is there any outcome that makes sacrificing “X” amount of human lives acceptable…even if the mission that contributed to their deaths appears on the surface to be right and just by some?

Perhaps if I sat a throne and possessed the power to shape the world in accordance with my wishes I would be more understanding of those who proclaim such actions are “worth the sacrifice.” But I don’t sit a throne…and I have not lost a loved one in this conflict. I am but a proud citizen of this country, like so many Americans. I do not have the right to decide whether the end has justified the means in Iraq.

And neither does the President.”

“Mrs Spears will be ready in two minutes.” I re-checked my catalogue of questions. I knew I’d have exactly seven minutes to conduct the interview.

“You have exactly seven minutes,” a suave, monotonic voice echoed my thoughts. “You are to ask questions about the movie only. No questions about maidenhood, plastic surgery or Mr. Timberlake. If any of those topics are broached, the interview will be ended immediately.”

I was ushered into the room, brushing my predecessor’s shoulders as he left. The concept of an assembly line came to my mind.

The room was lit by spotlights, the camera was already buzzing.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I said. The perfectly rouged and illuminated girl switched on her smile, but said nothing. No time for niceties. I pushed the lights, the camera, the cinematographer, sound assistants, bodyguards and personal gofers from my mind.

“Miss Spears, your debut on the silver screen tells the charming story about an innocent young girl breaking away to seek adventure on the road. How much of the young Britney went into the role of Lucy Wagner?”

Yeah, charming story, sure. Her flick is incredibly boring crap, I thought while pretending to listen to the girl’s well-rehearsed and recited answer. (more…)

This is a thing I thought about often. More, of course, when I was pregnant and facing this very obstacle on my way to having a baby. But still today, three years after having had the privilege to do this in teamwork with the baby in question, it is a thing I muse about. I think I will share these musings with you.

As a first of probably several posts about this, I’d like to talk about Britney’s vagina. Well, not too much, as Chrome already did this quite efficiently: Chrome about Brit’s pussy

No, I do not want to rant about the “the seriously braindead [american] bigot front”, as my friend so eloquently calls it. At least not now – you know I usually love doing that.

Imho, the sculpture is quite ok – as an expression of a male phantasy concerning female birth-giving. Not as an expression of female birth-giving.

As I pointed out in Chrome’s Blog: No female in labour would chose exactly this position. It defys gravity, and gravity is the only friend you have when you deliver, believe me. OK, the midwife might be the exception. Of course, Britney would not know that, as she did not give birth naturally, but had a section.

Here is the core of my musings: How did it happen that women let themselves be told how they should deliver their babies? How – and when – did we give all of this out of our hands so completely that most first mums-to-be do not know how to handle themselves? When did we give this topic over to the docs?

Don’t get me wrong. I admire doctors. More than one woman I know would have died in childbed without them. More than one child I know would not be alive without them. I am glad that they’re there.

But still, giving birth is primarily a thing a woman should decide about.

As we started with birth in art, I ask you to join me on a little circuit through history.

A prehistoric painting. Look at her position…

And here: An Attic relief showing woman giving birth on birthing stool, with midwife and kinswomen in attendance. Birthing stools are older than Christianity, and yet, they disappeared from the hospitals completely. Only recently did some very modern hospitals start to think about this possibility again… And here, in Classic Athens, we see the most common position I found in old sculptures, paintings, carvings, whatever: Women are squatting. And usually, there are some other women to support them and hold them upright (remember: gravity!)

Who the heck told women that lying on their backs would be a good idea???

Ancient Egypt: Other time and place, similar position. A squatting woman giving birth, assisted by two goddesses (Hathor and Taweret),? from the Temple of Hathor at Dendera.

India, 15th century, a carving in a temple. And the identical position…

This lovely lady is an aztec goddess going by the unpronouncable name of Tlazolteotl, the goddess of earth, sex, childbirth and mothers. Guys, she KNEW what she was doing. And this is how the birthes the sun: squatting!

Yes, talking about goddesses: Kali, giving birth to the universe itself. And what position did she chose? Yes, you seem to get it.

A Costa Rican sculpture of a woman giving birth. She is kneeling, and she seems to pull the baby with both her hands, too.

Woman giving birth, Lotus Sutra (Chinese), 9th to 10th century

This is an image about a woman giving birth, assisted by her midwife and friends. Published in 1580. Oh, and? the title of the publication was? “Kunnst und Lehrbüchlein für die anfahenden Jungen. Daraus reissen und Malen zu lernen”. One of the very few pictures featuring men, btw: In the background. Looking at the stars.

Gustave Witkowski, Pioneer Birth Scene, 1877. And, interrestingly: The same position, again. So, as you see, even in the inhibited pioneer times, women weren’t prissy about birthing. That seemed to come only with the last half of the 20th century.

And as we are talking about art, here is an artwork about female birth-giving (not about an expression of a male phantasy concerning female birth-giving):

Just absorb it and think about it for a while.

Yeah, well, it was a big deal for Marx and Lenin. Thanks guys. Okay, probably in the ghettos, right. But not for us. Not here. We have no boundaries between the classes anymore – or have we?

There is a talk I had with a friend. It’s almost six months past now, but I can’t get it out of my head. They are a couple, good friends of ours, and they have an almost grown-up son. As they’re both quite intelligent people, I asked him if they think their son is going to study. What he answered was:

“The son of a locksmith and a saleswoman will not have the chance to study. It just doesn’t happen”.

This quote stays with me since then. Don’t get it wrong: These are open-minded, tolerant, intelligent, literate people, it’s not that he would not want his son to choose the career that he wants to. That’s what startled me so about this sentence. It just doesn’t happen in his universe.

My grandparents were craftsmen and farmers, I do not come from a bourgouis family. My mother was the first one to go to university, and the only girl from the area. My grandpa died in the war, when my mum was four years old, and my grandmother made every effort she could to make it possible. And it became real, and my mum became a teacher (and I got my greek name that way, she loved the Greek classes at university).

This story of my family made me believe that you can achieve everything if you just work hard enough for it.

But perhaps that is not right. Perhaps it was the time? Did it work only because our whole country was being rearranged? Germany had to be built up after the war, the cards were reshuffled, and so a craftman’s daughter could go and study at the university?

Could it be that this time is over, that class boundaries start to rearrange themselves? A new world had started, and now the unwritten laws of privileged and under-privileged solidify? Not as Marx and Lenin defined them, but as this new society defines them? Well, it’s true that I can tell the kids who watch TV the whole day from those who don’t – in my classes.

I do not believe in class boundaries, nor in any other society-given differences between people. I do believe that we really can be what we want to, that we just have to try hard enough.

But is that naive, after all?