inspired by thxthxthx.com

From Leah Dieterich's blog: "There’s always something to be thankful for. From the important things like Songs You’re Embarrassed to Like, and Heavy Eyelids that Tell You When You Need to Sleep, to friends and family, love and loneliness, light and darkness, Leah Dieterich sets out to acknowledge them all. thxthxthx is her daily exercise in gratitude."


I have enjoyed Leah's daily Thank you notes and it has influenced me to look (again) at the little random things in life that I am grateful for. I say again, because it is nothing new to me, but easy to forget in the commotion of everyday life. Back in 1994, I created an aromatherapeutic bath oil for friends and called it Die Schönheit des Daseins, which translates to The Beauty of Being. And one morning at breakfast with friends - it occurred to us, how meaningful those little words are, it is almost like a philosophy, isn't it?

Life can be difficult and exhausting and frustrating, but if we stop for a moment to think, to look and to listen, life is also amazing and wonderful and funny. So come and share with me my gratitude for the beauty of being on my sort-of-gratitude blog called: The Beauty of Being. Well, yes of course, what did you think I would call it?

One thing...

... leads to another. So Spargeltarzan (meaning asparagus like tarzan = my spouse), Noergeltante (= one who whines) and Maulgesicht (= pouty face) have left for real wilderness hiking in the Berkshires and I thought I could be very, very busy and get a lot of projects done around the house. Went to the orange big box home improvement store that I loathe, but that is around the corner and varnished the bathroom vanity table, which I built from Mahogany 5 years ago. Made me notice the lights and that I have not yet finished the lights in HALF A DECADE - omg - maybe tomorrow - ... so off to the next project: shorten the barstools in the kitchen. Boy, that looks complicated, leave if for tomorrow. So I decide to do just one simple thing before sitting down by myself with a glass of wine and a chick flick.

After living for 42 years without a microwave, I can do pretty much without it. Therefore this huge appliance is annoying my sense of space in the kitchen and has to leave said space. Since a fore mentioned family members might want to use it every now and then, I thought we could put it in the laundry room, which is about the same distance to the stove in the kitchen. Off I go, get some supports for shelves - take down the mirror and what do I see? The people who started this pile of crooked wood that we call house, cut out the wall paper behind the mirror. Why? Well I have no idea why! But it kind of makes it clear that this 1971 wall paper needs to go and actually, the sink too. But if I do that, then the floor needs changing and........ I just wanted to move the microwave out of the kitchen, not do a full laundry room remodel.

So I just left the microwave where it is, closed the door to the laundry room and settled down for a nice chick flick, until the DVD player decided to be picky again and chose a different movie. I watched Premonition and thought it was quite good, surprisingly anyway and such a non Hollywood ending, maybe because the director is European? And just as a side note, if one is not hungry for dinner and then has a glass of Riesling - boy, that one glass felt like inhaling a full bottle - Good Night!

hilarious...

... how much I am writing, isn't it? I found out that I barely breathe at night, leaving me sleep and oxygen deprived and VERY tired at all times. Now I know that it is not a tumor though, that is turning my brain to mush. I have ever oh so slowly turned into a zombie and to me it is absolutely clear, that zombies probably do not make for good writers. On the other hand, it can be fun to write about zombies... but while my brain is still in it's fried stage, I shall pour another glass of Riesling and watch some Nova or Frontline or similar smart television and wait with the tales of moose encounters, sleep studies and achievement of cosmic balance.

twisted world of writing

Basically one of the reasons I started to blog was that I wanted to get in the habit of writing daily. Another reason was to get the 50.000 bad words out that everybody carries inside them according to my husband. The very strange thing is, since I have become really serious about writing and write regularly (and take classes), my blog has completely dried up. Twisted somehow, isn't it? I have been reading some blogs though, were people just write short little things, snippets of life, more than a facebook update, but not a full article type piece of writing that seems to be typical for me. I like that, I should try that, just throw things out there.

So there!

politics and society/ heath and education

I am not American. Coming from another country with different priorities of society and dissimilar political system, there are two topics that always gave me a feeling of unease. These two are Health and Education. I think a country that considers itself to be so great and offer everybody opportunities needs to make sure that all people can be healthy and be educated. I am happy that the health care bill passed, even though I am sure that it is just a first step and a compromise, but progress needs to start with little steps. In the past years, I have heard of so many people that were in terrible situations because they could not afford doctors and health care. What really got me though, were the millions of children without coverage, to me that is unthinkable. What kind of society leaves their children in such a situation?

Children are our future, they are going to be the ones at the rudder, steering forward when we are old, they deserve a good chance. That brings me to the second topic, education. In my view, it is fundamentally wrong that level of education rises and falls with the financial state of parents. Cheaper house, cheaper town and ergo, school district not as good. It is not equal opportunity, if rich children can either move to a great public school district or just go to a great private school and others are left behind. When I grew up, I thought the harder you worked and the more you learned and when you did everything right, you will be on top financially. I do not think that anymore, the amount of money people make, is not always related to amount of work, too many factors contribute to being well off and for sure is it not related to people being better persons than others. I see money as a great divider, people with money can send their kids to great schools and they can move into the same stratosphere. Of course there are always children that find their way anyway and their are others with the best starting position and they fail, but in general, money is a deciding factor. I despise that, because I think it should be based on merit and achievement. Wouldn't that ultimately be better for all of society?

I do worry about my children and their academic future, they will have to find a way to get scholarships or community college is calling. Maybe we just move to Germany and they can study anything they want - if they are good enough - for a nominal little fee. I am very happy that a new bill was signed yesterday, making student loans much easier to acquire and to pay off. Another step in the right direction. Sometimes, politics can move things forward or better them - at least until the tide changes in this two party system (another peculiar thing).

Then of course, I hear about nuclear power and offshore drilling and all my joy had been canceled out again. I think it is healthier for my mind to turn off NPR and listen to 400 years old music instead, but I find myself unable to. I feel a strange sense of duty to be an informed - well, I would love to write citizen, but I am not one of those - person. Good night and good luck!

Mandalas and Zentangles

I saw a very interesting time lapse video of a Buddhist monk and mandala master creating a Tibetan Sand Mandala in the Sackler pavilion (Smithsonian in D.C.). Mandalas are simultaneous art and meditation, sand mandalas in particular take a long time of concentrated and patient effort due to their intricate nature. A mandala like this represents a palace of Buddhist deities that exists in the mind of the monk. The one in the video took 8 days to make. After a mandala is completed, it gets swept away to remind us of the impermanence of existence. What a strong and powerful symbol. It reminds me a little bit of a big puzzle that takes so long to finish, just to take it apart and put it back in the box. I have always loved puzzles and their meditative nature. Even though finishing is the goal, it is not what is important about doing a puzzle. The journey is the real goal. Anyway, they don't let me embed this video of mandala master Venerable Ngawang Chojor, so here is the link.

When I checked on youtube, I found this interesting video though:



This reminds me that I have been meaning to do some zentangles. Zentangles is like drawing with patterns instead of colors, it is very meditative and free, a bit like doodling, and you never know what you will get. I used to do a lot of black ink drawings that consisted of nothing but tiniest little dots made with technical pens and I loved sitting at the desk and dotting away. It takes a lot of patience, but it is such a moment of creation, molding and shaping these dimensions on a two dimensional piece of paper.

Borromeo quartet at WGBH - Beethoven's Grosse Fuge

Admittedly I check my email too often, but it can be rewarding at times. I received an email from WGBH, inviting me to a Classical Guest Street session with the Borromeo String Quartet in their studios. I clicked on their link right away and got two of the last 20 tickets. Even more lucky that Fiddler from Rockhound Place was able to go with me. They had a reception and we got to walk around the new studios a bit, I had not seen them yet.

Violinist Nicholas Kitchen introduced the audience to Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge in a multimedia program, which was very interesting and entertaining. I just LOVE to take music apart for a deeper analysis and then listen to it all put together again - so very enlightening. The quartet ended with a performance of the entire opus 133.

Written in 1825/26 when Beethoven was completely deaf, it was originally composed as the last movement of string quartet Op. 130, but later published separate as Op.133. Almost 200 years old and is still very contemporary even today. The four voices, their themes and rhythms intertwine and cross in such a complexity and show the pure genius of Beethoven. It combines dissonance and fortissimo with quiet serenity and it surprises with dramatic interplay of silence and sudden bursts of musical expression. Cathy Fuller expressed it well: “Beethoven takes four voices, fully engaged and throbbing at high speeds, and drives them to the edge of a cliff before stopping them on a dime to listen to the vastness of silence.” [link]

The Borromeo Quartet has its home base in Boston and is the Quartet-in-Residence at the New England Conservatory. It was formed in 1989 and the group plays more than 100 concerts a year. These brilliant musicians are very accomplished and they create a passionate synergy that transcends their performance and connects to the music and its meaning on a deeper level and is in all its serious glory plain fun. I have rarely seen such a range of emotional expressions as tonight. They perform every now and then at the Gardner and I hope I can enjoy them there sometime soon. As an interesting side note, they don't use traditional scores, but cool macbooks instead and advance through the music with a pedal.

Here is an interview with the Borromeo Quartet at WNYC:


And here is the Quartet performing the final movement of Beethoven's Opus 18 Number 3 at WNYC:


Here is an interesting article by Alex Ross, the music critic of the New Yorker:
Beethoven's Grosse Fuge, and an article in the Boston Globe: Borromeos zero in on late Beethoven

Eric Whitacre's Virtual Choir - 'Lux Aurumque'

Last summer I asked my choral director if we are ever going to sing Arvo Pärt and she said, well we are singing Whitacre next year. With my impending Europe trip, I did not jump at the computer and research this unknown to me composer. I wish I had though. When I finally had to part with the Duruflé requiem and welcome the music of Eric Whitacre into my life, I was amazed by such beautiful music that seems to float and move. He also seems to be a genuinely nice person and is quite in touch with musicians and singers, now that surprises me, because my experience with musicians is different (with the exception of the wonderful and humble John Cage).

So anyway, I don't want to delve deeper here but share this fantastic idea of Eric Whitacre's Virtual Choir. Composer Eric Whitacre and producer Scott Haines called people to record their voice part of Lux Aurumque directed by Whitacre. Six scholarships were awarded. It was very exciting, because they were announced on different days and the chosen singers were just brilliant. So all in all, Haines mixed the 185 voices on 243 tracks with people from 12 countries and produced this wonderful music video. Haines did a superb job, because the sound for sure transcends little computer microphones. They must be wizards.



Beyond the wonderful music and the novel idea, this is a perfect example of the potential good of the internet. The power of music as the universally understood language married with the possibilities of modern technology bring together people from different backgrounds and beliefs, cultures and races and unites all in a moving piece of music. This is the second video of this kind, last year they also did Sleep with Virtual Choir. I hope this is not the last Virtual Choir project, I would love to attempt a part myself. For now though I am happy to sing five of Whitacre's pieces this spring with Sounds of Stow.

Spring is here, ignore the calendar

Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes, and the grass grows by itself.
~ Zen proverb

How can one not feel better with the sun of spring permeating everything. The warmth and the light coaxing out new life all around and radiating deep into my soul, sprouting hope.

And this is where some photos should be posted, but Blogger does not let me do so at the moment, so I'll try later ... Blogger has been acting very peculiar as of late.

day 16 of brain mush

So somehow I caught something a few weeks ago and I got sick with the flu or at least something that has all those symptoms. Unlike John though, who bounced back quickly, mine had to turn into a double ear infection, sinusitis and bronchitis. So here I am, 16 days later and still feeling like my brain was sucked away by aliens and substituted with mush of mystery meat, peas and carrots. Why did I pick something this awful? Because I was fed this mush daily when I was in the hospital for four month in 1972. And this was the mildest on the list of offenses this hospital stood for. Yuck.

So I would like to write something meaningful, but with a head that feels like it is teetering on the verge of explosion, meaningful and thought-out are not easily achieved. It does not help that I thought it would be very beneficial for me to run around in the sun on a tennis court, 'get your lymph system going' as John called it. That thought was apparently not a good one either.... cough, cough and off to bed now with a good book. Gave up on Sense & Sensibility & Seamonsters and will be reading the Rockhound Place recommended Shiver instead.

Since I am still sick: another Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday - Squirrel in the old appletree

Pride & Prejudice & Zombies

Now really, this is an absolute awesome book title. I love the absurd and this sure sounded very much so. When I received it from the library, I was really put off by the title and have since talked to many people who did not even read it because of the title artwork. Personally, I think that is silly, since one should not judge a book by its cover.

Zombies add a hilarious notion to a piece of literature set in a period of stiffness and proper conduct. The books bizarre juxtaposition appealed to me on the comedic level as much as to me being a big fan of Austen. Pride & Prejudice is a satire and I do think that Austen herself would love the idea of this mash-up. Unfortunately though, this is where I think this book fails. It stays a good concept, but it delivers only a fraction of what it promises. It has its moments of hysterical and wicked fun married with the macabre, but the execution is overall inconsistent and weak. The first chapters make you laugh your head off and then it tapers into the background and comes with a big return towards the end when we get a Crouching Tiger meets Austen moment.

I am no fan of horror (too many horror movie matinees at the age of seventeen) and there is some horror in this book. I never really felt the “ultraviolent zombie mayhem” while reading, because it is being portrayed in a very matter of fact style and the characters fight according to the regency times with polite elegance and a nonchalance that makes you take that attitude as well. Therefore horror, blood and gore were not even in my field of vision while reading, the zombies did not materialize in my head. I did ignore the potty humor, as I think it neither funny nor shocking, but rather infantile and not very clever.

I am new to the genre of mash-up, but I thought it takes two aspects and by mashing them up transforms them into something different. I don’t think there is a transformation here, it does stay Pride & Prejudice. There is nothing very original about the addition that were made, they are mere sprinkles in the awesome work of Jane Austen. I kept wondering throughout if it would be more interesting with more twists like those regarding Charlotte and Collins, but I came to the conclusion that it would add so much more implausible plot, that it could become rather annoying. Or maybe that is exactly what would make this better and achieve a transformation?

Would I recommend it to friends? I love Pride & Prejudice and it was a fun way to spent some hours on a dreary winter afternoon, so I was entertained. On the other hand though, I was thoroughly bugged by inconsistencies in plot, geography and spelling that really puts this more on the level of online fanfic rather than being a book to shell out money for. With a better editor and stronger writing, this could have been something that Jane Austen herself would have enjoyed.

This might be a great way though to trick weary teenagers into reading Jane Austen. I give it three stars, not great, not bad.

200 years Chopin

Wszystkiego Najlepszego Fryderyk! I have no idea how to pronounce it, but it means 'Happy Birthday Frédéric' in Polish. Thanks to Fiddler at Rockhound Place to remind me of Chopin's birthday with her post, even though there is no absolute certainty if March first really was the day he was born. Last year we had Mendelssohn to celebrate and this year Chopin. There are celebrations all around the globe, but especially in Poland of course. Chopin's life and heritage is very interesting in the sense that he examplifies in one way how intertwined France and Poland are. Many people think Chopin is French and they are wrong but also a little right at the same time.

While reading about Chopin today, it occurred to me that I have never gone through a Chopin phase. I actually don't think I ever will. I have definite favorite pieces, the very well known Nocturne in E# minor and the Prelude in E minor for example. I would love to be able to play the Etude 25 Winter Wind, usually played very fast, though I prefer it very slow, as it becomes somewhat haunting. If I one were to look into my brain and look at the music section, they would discover a huge love for French composers, from early music to modern. Even though Chopin spent the second half of his life in France and his father had come to Poland from France, I cannot find in his music what I consider typically French. This is neither quantifiable nor educated, just based on my emotional experience.

Like many others though, I struggle at the piano with Chopin. Usually I give up relatively quickly. And then I saw this video on youtube (stick around for 0:25) and it makes me want to run to the piano and play, as much as it makes me want to sell it real fast and look for a different past time.



Robert Schumann on Chopin: "It was an unforgettable picture to see Chopin sitting at the piano like a clairvoyant, lost in his dreams; to see how his vision communicated itself through his playing, and how, at the end of each piece, he had the sad habit of running one finger over the length of the plaintive keyboard, as though to tear himself forcibly away from his dream."

Red velvet cupcakes

Red Velvet cake is one of those things I have always heard about, but did not taste before last fall at a bridal shower. I consider most cakes over here too sweet, but the one I tried was really good. The idea to make some red velvet cupcakes got stuck in my head and when we had a completely unexpected snow day this week, finally the day to make them had arrived. Now you have to understand how I go about something like this, extensive research and reading is required and one thing was blatantly obvious, everybody has their own personal way to do this cake, with the only common component being a ton of red food coloring being used. That was something I definitely wanted to avoid, food dye, especially red is like poison for kids with ADD. Some of the recipes have nothing to do with red velvet cake, outside of being red that is. Some people just make a red vanilla pound cake, atrocious!

Originally the cake got the red color due to a reaction between buttermilk, vinegar, baking soda and the alkaline dutch process cocoa. Cocoa has changed over the years though. I wonder how they colored this cake in the Waldorf-Astoria in New York, where it was very popular in the Twenties. One recipe I found used red beets, but all the other ingredients seemed not as typical. I decided to go my typical route, an amalgamation of many different recipes, plucking a detail here and there which adhered to my sense of baking. The original frosting is a butter roux - a cooked flour frosting - and not cream cheese frosting - yeah, something new to learn :)


So here it goes, my red velvet cupcake recipe:

Roast a couple of red beets in the oven, peel them and puree them with tart cherry juice. This might also work with jarred beets, in which case you might not need the juice, but I have not tried this.

Mix 2 cups of the red beet puree
1 - 2 teaspoons real vanilla extract
1 cup of buttermilk

Sift together:
1.5 cups organic whole grain pastry flour
1 cup regular organic flour
1 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
2/3 cup of dutch process cocoa

Cream
1 cup of butter
1.5 cups of sugar and then add
3 eggs, one at a time

and then add alternating from the flour mix and the beet mix until the dough is all mixed.

Combine
2 teaspons balsamic vinegar with
2 teaspoons baking soda
which will fizz like crazy and you feel like a weired scientist.
Mix into the dough

fill 24 cupcake liners and bake in a preheated oven of 350 F for about 20 minutes. Now I am not completely sure about the time, just test it with a wooden skewer.

While the cupcakes cool down, make the roux frosting.

While creaming together
3/4 cup of butter with
1/2 cup of sugar and
some vanilla extract

whisk, while heating on the stove
3/4 cup of milk
a pinch of salt
3 tablespoons of flour until thick.
Let the milk and flour paste cool and then mix it slowly into the creamed butter and sugar. Beat for quite a while until it is very creamy and smooth. Frost the cupcakes or if you make a cake instead, fill it. I had made some chocolate decorations (just pipe melted bitter chocolate on a baking mat and then cool) that I stuck into the frosting. I piped the frosting onto the cupcakes, as I think it just gives a nicer finish that applied with a blade. The frosting will firm up very nicely in the fridge.

Everybody really liked these cupcakes, they were moist, not too sweet and had a wonderful chocolate taste. They were not bright red, more like a red tinged devil's food cake, but they were just the right balance in taste and texture. I will definitely have to make them again, and if we make it to the Waldorf during the next holiday season, I will have to try their red velvet cake.

Defeated

As a friend reminded me last week, it has been close to a year that I have not blogged on this blog. My excuse so far has been that I wanted to finish the last days of my travel blog first and never seem to get around doing so. But that is really just an excuse, though not far fetched, as I am a skilled master of the art of standing in my own way.

But I think the reason I have not written lies much deeper and it struck me this week that the truth is, I feel defeated and I feel so down on me and my life that I feel like there is nothing to write. No, actually, there is a lot to write, but it is all negative and who wants to read that anyway. I advise you to stop reading any further and if you do so, you do at your own risk. But I don’t want to talk things up anymore and hide my feelings and pretend everything is marginally okay. I am being candid.

I have been reading a lot lately, the best diversion there is, escaping into the worlds painted by other people, some very skilled ones and some not so much. But I have not been able to even write a short review of anything I read. I have a graduate degree in literature for crying out loud and I cannot write a few sentences about a book? Quite baffling. I could write a brilliant thesis, but not some f...ing little review? Doubts are creeping in that maybe, possibly I might not be capable of any original thoughts at all? All my life I really just wanted to be a writer and yet I do not write. I am too afraid to fail, too afraid that the assessments of my teachers and professors regarding my talent in writing were somehow misguided.

So here I am not doing anything with my life. I gave up my chosen career of writing for the radio for my own misguided reasons and moved to this country and since then had nothing but great ideas and feeble attempts. I find myself having reached a midlife full of self loathing. I cannot stand living in this seemingly shallow and meaningless suburbia, where we pretend everything is fine when the world is really a catastrophe. Or maybe I really hate even more that my own life is devoid of meaning.

When my children were both denied services at school last spring - after all smart children with handicaps are not worthy of help, they can muddle through well enough and school is only accountable for getting the bottom kids up - it felt like a huge blow. I had to put all my books and papers and research away and just forget about it as much as possible. But somewhere inside me it festered and my anger and resentment cannot be forgotten. The moment of failure to get help for my children has strangely been a pivotal moment for me.

Since having children, my life has mostly consisted of keeping them healthy and functioning as much as possible. Most of my energy have been spent on this. I have read so many books and articles and posts, I have been to workshops and acquired quite some knowledge regarding anything in the direction of Asperger, ADD, Sensory Processing Dysfunction, mood disorders in kids, difficult children, spirited children, fussy children, negative children... you get the drift. I know special education law, I know how to survive a baby that does not stop screaming, a child that can go into respiratory distress any moment... I know I could have done a worse job, I am not sure if I could not have done a better one. For a decade I was a pretty good advocate for my children and the hope to get help and to make things better were enough motivation. Supporting my children and working so hard to make them function well enough brought us to the point that they were denied help. Oh the irony of fate. This little, tiny meeting was enough though to deflate hope and motivation. Since that day, I have not been the same, it is like something inside me broke. I cannot explain why this small detail brought down the whole house of cards. Maybe I was just tired of pushing and holding it up?

I think there is another dimension contributing to the feeling of defeat. My children get to do all the things I always wanted to do and never got to do. Should this not make me feel so happy? Should I not feel some kind of satisfaction? It does not, because my children are not me and when I watch them having these opportunities, it brings back the childhood desperation I felt when being denied exactly those opportunities. My children are not at fault, but their childhood is the catalyst in bringing back to mind mine. I had a lousy childhood, extremely lonely and filled with anxiety. I was a brilliant child with many talents, but without guidance and opportunities, it got all wasted.

And now I feel like I have wasted my life, the light bulb reached the end of its life and burned out. Apparently too late to develop my talents, midlife hormonal upheaval has now also robbed me of my superior intellect. I am scatterbrained and forgetful, seriously, it feels like there is a bad batch of mashed potatoes sludging around where my brain should be. My emotions are on a roller coaster, I can go between laughing hysterically to non-stop crying faster than a raccoon gets to our cat food. Despite my busy social life, I feel incredible lonely and lost. I don’t know what to do, where to turn and how to keep going. I feel defeated. Because isn’t that what defeat is, being devoid of hope and motivation?

I have no reason for self pity and I don't feel any, do not misread my lines, I am rather cross with myself actually. I know there are many people out there who have reason to bitch and moan and complain. Anyway: here it is, this is why I am not writing, because I am living a gray cloud of defeat and despair, trying every single day to pull myself out of the mud like Munchhausen and failing more with each attempt. So here I sit, on a cloudy February afternoon, staring at the button 'PUBLISH POST' I need to click to publish this and I am not sure whether I really want to invite people to share my view into the abyss of my dysfunctional self.

But what the heck, at least I wrote something.