living the polish life...

Entry twenty-five-I woke up from my dream

2005-02-25T10:27:00.000-08:00

Last night, I had a dream that I went on a dinner date with William Shakespeare. We talked about Twelfth Night, his sonnets,the new play he was writing. A comedy this time he said. He was interested in my work which wasn't teaching his works oddly enough. I was a professor of literature yes, but not of his literature. I found myself instead talking about Chaucer's Canterbury Tales and how they revolutionized modern writing.

Then, my students started coming into the café we were dining in. Not dream-created students. Students I actually teach Shakespeare to.(Confused yet anyone?)And they started to criticize both Shakespeare and myself. They were taunting us about being literature snobs, how our work wasn't good enough, how I was a terrible professor, etc. Their faces turned from the bright interested faces I knew to cynical sneers and malicious smiles. I woke up in a cold sweat to my alarm clock telling me it was time to get ready for class.

Needless to say my day was shot and now I am glad that Spring Break is coming soon enough. I don't know where I am going to spend it, but the dream was a sharp indication that I need to get away for a short while. Maybe Jovanna will want to travel somewhere for a few nights' stay. I need to see live theatre again. Oy. Oi.

Bring me to a show, leave an email. I'll make a blogback thing soon.

All the world's a stage,
Mischalina

Entry twenty-four-Dreidel, dreidel...

2004-12-02T10:37:00.000-08:00

I am counting down until Hanukkah. Downtown the Christmas celebration has already started in the form of decorations hanging from the street lamps and stores along the main street blaring Christmas music. Truly, I admit that the music is geared toward the dopamine enhancers in one's brain. Christmas is a cheery holiday. Though sometimes the cheer becomes commercial and not so much cheerful as stressful then.

Jovanna wants to celebrate Hanukkah with us this year. I asked Henrich if this would be ok and he said he couldn't see why not. Jovanna's father passed when she was young and her mother most recently became sick. She is being treated for alcoholism and Jovanna cannot stand to see her mother like that. Which I understand all too well seeing Father go through the crippling affects of alcohol. Hopefully by the new year everything will be forgiven. Until then, I am more than happy to open up my home to her. Without Ryan this year is proving to be a terrible one already.

Today the snow started. My landlord was watching the weather forecast when I walked out of my apartment. He called me in through his open doors and we watched the green mass that was approaching us. After a few moments of silence, he started complaining about how his wife was right in getting the snowblower ready. I told him I would continue the tradition of me shoveling the front walk to the apartments. He thanked me and I caught the bus to work. Now the snow has started and I can see that perhaps being a help is not quite a good idea.

All of my thoughts of late have been about starting a family. I suppose it is that internal clock I feel ticking. Also being a thirty-four year old woman who is unmarried and unattached is hard. Mother calls asking if I have yet found someone worthwhile. Saying no is hard to hear. It used to just be hard to talk to Mother about it, but now I realize that my inner feelings are of loneliness. I should have been an actress instead, I would have had three marriages and ten illegitimate children by now.

Currently reading:My emails for I have tons of them lately
Currently listening to:Coldplay-The Scientist
Currently feeling:bittersweet and butterscotch

entry twenty-three-Oh that was so real...

2004-10-23T08:10:00.000-07:00

The play went wonderfully and now maybe I will have more time to update this blog. Silly me kids, I forgot to post an entry after opening night but by the time I got home from the after party, it would have been more like early morning and I was tuckered. But the main thing is I am here now right?

Opening night we had the regular crowd of students come but this year we opened it up to high school students who were in dramatic classes. So before opening night, we had a dress rehearsal for the high schools. I believe twelve high schools from across a tri-county area came. Never have I seen the enrollment in drama classes so high. Oh it is so promising let me tell you. My spirit lifted when I saw most of them were seniors ready to take flight, hopefully to collge. Our college where I can teach them. They all looked so fresh, so full of ideas. Other drama professors were even trying hard to snag them for next semester. Since I am technically an English course professor, I stayed away from the fray and watched with amusement.

Henrich came with his new beau, and I was a little perturbed to see that he had hid Rabbi in one of those dog purses. God only knows where he purchased one of those silly things. Rabbi knows how to behave during a performance however and just sat there taking it all in. He's seen me practicing my lines and I think he picked up the 'owner's working hard, stay out from underfoot' vibe. Good little dog that he is. Jovanna came with her new boyfriend Ed is quite a lot different from Ryan. He is much sweeter to me, which means he is either trying to score brownie points or just a really great guy.

Mother gave me an unexpected call telling me to come to Bordeaux for Chanukah. Now here is a pickle. Yes, deep down I would love to spend more time in France. No, it doesn't have everything to do with that nice worker shush. But Henrich and I were planning our own little thing and this might make him feel bad since he wasn't invited. No, scratch that--he would feel awful if he wasn't invited again. Even though he would play it off as if he didn't mind. Plus, we have Magda to consider too. She wanted to give the States another shot and I would love to have her and Krysia stay with us. Le sigh. Hopefully things will sort in less than month so we can all be together. Oy.

take your bow next to me, leave me an email.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry twenty-two-I'm always underfoot...

2004-09-30T11:11:00.000-07:00

So sorry about the lack of updates. Good lord. How can I forget about this blog so easily. Please forgive my lack of updates. I have been receiving my email. But due to Dean A-hole monitoring me closely when I bring in my laptop, I have not really replied. Other things have led me to go so quickly astray.

I have been working with the drama department to put on a completely professor's production of "Twelfth Night". Every year, the professors who are interested in the arts on a full or even part-time level get together and put on a play for the other faculty, the community, and of course the students to attend. Kind of a fun thing. All the money goes right back to the college. Students of course get in free because they are already paying so much to be there. This year when I found out that they were planning on doing Shakespeare, I immediately volunteered that we do Twelfth Night. Stupidly enough, I also said that having been in a few productions of the piece, I would direct and set up props and costumes. As well as playing the role of Viola. Whoops.

So that is where I have been. Working on sets, putting together scenes, finding actors, directing, shaking my head, and rolling in the aisles. We perform the play on October 15th. I wish that were open for you to buy tickets online or something. However, being a small college, we don't expect people to pay that much to fly and see us from great distances. I am sure that some of my readers would love to see me make an arse of myself/ Let's just hope this all goes swimmingly. Yes? Agreed.

Classes are going well of course. My students and I have come to that understanding that usually happens in about the third week. Things are settled down now and learning is in full swing. I think that they appreciate having a professor who doesn't want to lecture at them but rather wants to know what they think. What they believe. I have to thank my professor Mrs. Ozlewski for that. Good Polish woman with wonderful teaching methods. God rest her.

Well off I scoot. To all my wonderful Flatted Fifthers, I will be back and posting as soon as I think of a great prompt to write about. Perhaps I will write about my opening night when it comes around.

listening to:"The Watchtower"-Dave Matthews version
thinking:where oh where has my little dog gone...
feeling:stressed and pms-ish..not a good combo

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry twenty-one-Battle commence

2004-09-05T18:10:00.000-07:00

September 2nd marked the first day of school for me. That is where I have been lately. If you were worried about me at all that is. Before then I had lesson plans to work on and I started that novel I promised you all in the beginning of my blog. Two chapters and nineteen pages later, I am feeling wonderful.

Right now I should be working on my essay idea. Our first reading was the famous Sonnet 18 and everyone groaned. I was silly in believing it would be new blood to them. But what they don't know is how in-depth I am going to make them think about it. How much they will be bringing up feelings of high school loves and losses. We all deal with them differently. What was Shakespeare saying about love and loss? What was the greatest contradiction? Blah blah blah. You get the picture. I can also see you falling asleep.

Other than working, I have been socializing a lot more. Tonight, I have two concerts to go to. Some kind of a benefit dance for cancer research. One of the college bands is playing. The other concert is more of a costume party thrown by the symphony orchestra. Every year they hold a costume gala to raise money for new percussion instruments and concert hall rentage fees. I am Henrich's date. Which makes me proud that he chose me instead of one of his millions of gay/straight friends or ex-boyfriends. Or any current boyfriend he might have that I don't know about for that matter. But no, he chose his darling older sister to show off tonight. So I will be the most stunning Juliet any of them will ever see.

Tomorrow is Labor Day. Wonderful day for all of you I imagine. Meanwhile, we still have afternoon classes which means I don't really get the day off. College kids get to sleep off the weekend parties and I can sleep off the champagne. Then it's back to work. Yippee woo-ha. Let me supress my ever undying enthusiasm for all that is the first few weeks of classes. *yawns*

Oops, I better dash. Henrich is giving me the 'let's frigging go already' look I know and love(to hate)so well. Please have a wonderful Labor Day weekend on me. Well, what's left of it at least. [To all my Flatted Fifth Friends, I will be writing about my September remembrances shortly. Bear with me.]

Take me out steppin', leave me a comment.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry twenty-She was a daytripper...

2004-08-24T16:55:00.000-07:00

Well I am back from Six Flags and the mall. What a wonderful day it was. I should get out of this dreadfully small apartment once in awhile and just spend the day in parts unknown. Too bad I realize this at the end of summer. Oh well, I guess there is always next year.

My neck is killing me. I am leaning against this computer chair which is not the most comfortable computer chair known to man, with an ice pack slung around my neck. Rollercoasters are not for those who are over the age of thirty. Or in my case, have had joints like someone over the age of thirty for their entire lives. Jovanna made me go on every rollercoaster in the park. No ifs, ands, or buts. Which means since the park was pretty dead, we did everything twice. Superman, Iron Wolf, Vertical Velocity, Raging Bull, American Eagle, Viper, Batman, Deja Vu, and the Demon. Over and over again until my neck felt as if had cracked in half. And let me tell you, walking all over creation to get in line is not a picnic. Thank the God of my ancestors that lines were not long. Otherwise we would have had to been standing there for an hour at a time. Listen to me, poo-pooing the great time we had. Starting to sound like Mother.

Shopping was great too. Outlet malls have to be the most interesting designs on the planet. Besides rollercoasters and breast pumps. I bought myself a nice Windsor dress that was originally $146.50 and when I bought it I paid $10. Plus, I bought two new shirts from Hollister. And another shirt from Forever 21. Spent only forty bucks. That was with Jovanna talking me out of buying an amazingly cute maroon messenger bag from Gap. I'm telling you that I am regretting that officially. Now what am I supposed to haul all my Shakespeare material in? Plus I picked up the 13 Going on 30 soundtrack at FYE. Those songs bring me back a little and the movie was cute. Jennifer Garner doesn't even trip my trigger. But start talking about Mark Ruffalo, and then I pay attention. I'm sorry where was I...? I sometimes forget that people don't like to read this kind of fluff. But deal with it people. Today was a day for fluff.

I cannot wait to see my students' reactions when I wear my "I lost my marbles" shirt. They'll agree, the smartasses.

Listening to:"Vienna" by Billy Joel
Thinking:Should have bought that messenger bag
Feeling:Like I am missing all the spinal fluid en route to my brain

I love pina coladas, leave me a comment and escape.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry nineteen-Operator please hold my calls

2004-08-23T09:21:00.000-07:00

I have not been answering my phone for the past few days. Henrich is waiting for an important phone call about a possible position and I have been trying to avoid all phone calls pertaining to my schedule change. Dean A-hole has really been burning holes in his little "feelers" over this situation, I can tell. This is sarcasm I am using because he has not called me. Though if he did, I suppose Henrich would beat me to the phone and pick up anyway. Let him listen to Dean A-hole for once. He can deal with assholes better than I can.

My cell phone has been too busy calling Jovanna making sure that things are getting better. She was in knots for awhile. This whole week was spent in a wine-soaked crying fit. I can understand this feeling of total loss in control. When Abraham left me, I felt the exact same way. The only meaningful difference is that Abraham never promised me forever and Ryan did to Jovanna, which is what that little diamond rings entails. My own thinking that Abe and I were forever was the problem. Jovanna wasn't thinking selfishly when she planned out her forever with Ryan. Ryan was the selfish one. No matter how many times I tell her however, she refuses to blame him. Still, she wants to go to Six Flags tomorrow, which means I have to find my ticket. EEK! Under all this paperwork mess I have, and all these lesson plans, I am sure it has suffocated!

I was wrong about when classes started. Obviously, they would not be starting on a Sunday. That would be some form of blasphemy or sin. They are starting on September 2. Last year they started August twenty-ninth. That is perhaps how I became confused. Who knows? It could be any number of things tripping me up lately. All this foggy mire is floating about in my cranium and I don't know how to clean it out. Shaking my head back and forth only creates a headache the size of a Buick. Perhaps I need to lay down and do the one thing I promised never to do again: take a nap. Dear god, I cannot believe I just typed that. Forgive me.

Now I am off to go and take my mind away from all that is work and heartache and Dean A-hole. It is time for me to lose myself in the latest novel I am devouring. Currently it is "Garden Angel" by Mindy Friddle. Having myself a bit of a hard time getting around the very Southern feel of it. Southern versed literature has always been a heavy thing to get around, since the slang is so thick you have to almost be Southern to understand it.

Listening to:"Oh My My" by Ani Difranco
Thinking:Please have this situation fixed, Dean A-hole
Feeling:Exhausted beyond belief

Read to me in a slow drawl, leave me a comment.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry eighteen-Houston, we have a scheduling conflict...

2004-08-18T09:53:00.000-07:00

I am back from France. Not quite regained conciousness though. However, I am sure that it will come with time. Or you know, won't, but that will be something I have to deal with. Right now, things back at home are going a little haywire and I need all the mental strength I can pull together for it. Which makes me wonder why I am trying to piece together a blog entry and make lunch at the same time while counsel my brother on what to wear to the theater tonight. God, all I have to say is, you better have a seat for me somewhere someday when all is said and done.

Today was registration day at the college. Which means I had to march through the onslaught of freshmen and weeping parents standing on the campus looking around at the dorms and buildings, while clutching a box of dorm room attributes and a tissue in their hands. Meanwhile, the freshmen are trying to look cool by not noticing their parents and meanwhile are smiling nervously at upper classmen. Every year I see it, and every year it makes me even more glad that Mother didn't want to come and see me settled in New York. Though I am sure she would have been the opposite.

Moving right along, I hurried into the English building and up the three flights of stairs to my classroom. Usually I go during registration to clean out my desk and get my classroom set up for the school year. During this time, I try and prepare my first greeting lecture to alert the students as to what they will be doing as well as a brief history of myself and a little getting to know them exercise.(You can get away with this in a liberal arts college when your classes are small)But today, I was deterred in the hallway by the dean, who was huffing and puffing and whose face looked about the color of my Ruby Desire nailpolish. Here is the conversation that occurred on the steps between the dean and myself.

Dean A-hole:"Dr. B. it appears we have a problem."
Myself:"Oh yes Dean A-hole(no I didn't say that outloud) what is it?"
Dean A-hole:"It appears(he says this at least nine times in the conversation, I counted)that your ten o'clock class must be moved."
Myself:"And why is this Dean A-hole?"(I am being patient and sweet)
Dean A-hole:"It appears that when we surveyed the students who would be taking your class, the opted for a later class."
Myself:"When did we take it upon ourselves to survey the students?"
Dean A-hole:"I decided it would be nice to fit the students' needs for once. I am sure you understand."
Myself:"Ahh I see. So what do you suggest I do with my class that meets in the afternoon? Surely you do not want me to expand my afternoon class?"
Dean A-hole:"It appears that is exactly what you might have to do Dr. B. It appears we will be moving your ten o'clock in with your two o'clock. Unless, that is, you have any other suggestions?"
Myself:"Well, yes actually I do. I would prefer to teach a night class as opposed to expanding my afternoon class. Since the two classes are different in the first place."(Both classes study the same subject but different plays that way they cannot cheat.)
Dean A-hole:"Ahh I see. Well it appears we could try and feel around(Bad image in my mind at this point and I am trying not to gag) on the campus and see if that might be more suitable. I will alert you as soon as we know something."
Myself:"That is wonderful news Dean A-hole. I appreciate your working with me on this. It is nice to know you understand where I am coming from and I think it is safe to say I know where both you and the students are coming from."
Dean A-hole:"Wonderful to hear Dr. B. It appears that our business is over here and it also appears that you are on your way to your classroom. And it appears to me that I am in your way and that I am needed elsewhere. Have a wonderful rest of the summer."

So basically, that is what my classes boil down to. Night and afternoon classes. Which is sad because I have things that I prefer to do in the evening. Why oh why didn't I just agree to expand the class? If there is only one class, then they certainly can cheat, but I could always find a way around it. Shit on a shingle. Too late now. I am not going to call back Dean A-hole and tell him that I will expand. Perhaps in the end fate will smile on me and that is how it appears to turn out. Good god. I didn't just type that did I?

*scrambles to get coffee and a sense of self*

When I returned home, Henrich handed me a Post-It-Note pack of messages from friends(Jovanna and Ryan broke up)co-professors(Want to grab a couple drinks and make fun of...I mean discuss our incoming upper classmen?)and random people. Some society wants to me to appear at a seminar in little town USA. Yada yada. So far, the only call I have returned is Jovanna's. Somehow I forgot to give her my number in France so she called hoping that Henrich would have it. Henrich did not have it. Or remember where he put it at least. Not that I am complaining. Amazing that he even wrote the messages down.

Now I must finish making my primavera and return phone calls. Perhaps I will go out tonight and have a laugh with the co-professors. Couldn't hurt. Surely, it couldn't help, but it won't hurt anything either. And that my friends is a way to go through life. Never hurting or helping. Kinda just sitting. Of course, when my brain clears its fuzz, I will take that statement back. Until then, there it remains.

Listening to:"Michael" By Franz Ferdinand
Thinking:To pee or not to pee that is the question
Feeling:Like wringing some survey-feeling-asshole-of-a-dean's neck

Compare schedules with me, leave me a comment.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry seventeen-We are family...

2004-08-13T08:05:00.000-07:00

Krysia arrived this morning. We spent the day talking and now she is taking a tour of the vineyard. So I have stolen away some moments for myself to check up on the email and update the blog. She reminds me of myself at that age. In fact, she looks similar to the way I did at ten. Already, she knows she wants to do something artistic and not nine-to-five like her parents. Magda has not rubbed off on her at all. Totally she is a left-brained child. Too bad for her parents though. I am sure they will have a hard time adapting to her creativity. Just as Mother had trouble with Henrich and I.

Her hair is cut short, which she did herself. It looks modern and well done for her only being ten. It is dark like Magda's but there are streaks of brown like my hair in there. Her eyes are dark whereas Magda's are light blue like Father's were. She laughs while sticking her tongue out like I do. Her teeth are straight and pearly white. They will never need braces, which mine did in my college years. But all in all, she is young Mischalina. It is as if my childhood self is haunting the vineyard. Mother looked as if she had seen a ghost when Krysia arrived with Renard and I from the aeroport.

We are going out to dinner later. Renard, Mother, Krysia, myself, and surprisingly, Jean. He is almost like a part of the family Mother explains to me. Taking the place of Henrich, the great disappointment I imagine, but I don't say anything. For I do not want this to go sour fast. I have enjoyed my stay and hope to be invited back again. The next time, I might have to sneak Henrich in my suitcase or something. He so wants to go and visit Mother. I just wish she wasn't so difficult.

Krysia will be returning soon and I must get ready for dinner. It is already the afternoon almost evening and I have not yet bathed. Mother thinks it is appalling that I am still in my pyjamas. Because that means I went to the aeroport in my pyjamas. Which is a public place. Being in a public place in my pyjamas is disgraceful to the family name in Mother's eye. We have always had that rule. No pyjamas after ten o'clock in the morning. But now that I am thirty-three, she really cannot slap me or spank me anymore. Now all she can do is sigh and roll her eyes, hoping that I will get the message and change my fiendish ways. Perhaps they all think that Krysia will pick up my habits. Since I have already rubbed off on her, and we have only locked eyes once when she is cognicent.

Invite me to your family reunion, leave me a comment.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry sixteen-Foreign's familiar to me now...

2004-08-11T11:25:00.000-07:00

France is growing on my like a fungus. Which makes me sad because I know that I have to leave it soon. Renard already has made arrangements for me to fly back on Friday afternoon which means I will arrive sometime Saturday evening. This is because the aeroport is far travel from my apartment. Henrich will be waiting for me because Renard has already made sure he would be and now I cannot extend my vacation without angering Renard. Which in turn would anger my mother. Such childish shananigans they pull sometimes. However, it is cute to see them interact. Better than what my mother and father were like.

Bordeaux is beautiful and the people are friendly. Especially when you tell them where you are staying and that you are a daughter of the Polish lady. Everyone knows my mother around here as something different, but they collectively know her as the Polish lady. This they do not say in a demeaning way, but rather as an ahhh yes her, type of recognition. While antique shopping yesterday, a woman could pick out where I was from right away. She knew the region, the part of town, practically the house number that was mine. It was not until later that I asked Jean how she knew so much about Poland that I found that she has taken up a friendship with my mother and apparently mother told her about my coming. Silly of me to think I had found some kind of psychic.

I have now stowed away as much wine as possible in my suitcase. Let's pray that they don't scan it. Since I have most of the bottles in my carry-on I hope a quick search works. Renard is driving me to the aeroport along with Mother and they will talk the security officers out of beating me with their wands. At least I would hope they would do something like that. Who knows with those two though. Somedays as I have mentioned, they are no better than Henrich and I were as children. Getting people in trouble just to watch them try and squirm out of it. It was always amusing until Father was around. Then we would feel it.

My limited French has done me well. I find that most of the French people like to speak English. Otherwise they feel their schooling on that particular subject is rather wasted. At least that seemed to be the general opinion of many of the younger set I ran into. Jean wanted to learn a little Polish so I taught him the basics. Good morning, hello, yes, no, please, good, my name is, and of course all the good swearings I could come up with. Jean often tries to think of new ways of swearing. I wish I could be there when Mother hears one of her hired hands swearing in her native talk. Perhaps I should teach him some Russian and Spanish before I leave. Wink wink.

All in all this vacation has been well worth it. Partly because I was going bonkers at home with a lack of hobbies or books to read and partly because I wanted to see my mother so dreadfully bad. Krysia comes tomorrow. It appears that Magda is sending her here alone because her husband has been injured in the mill and she must take care of him. The story sounds a little fishy to me because last I heard her husband worked in one of the offices, but at least I get to see Krysia. She talked for a few minutes on Monday to me when Magda called to tell Mother about the change of plans.

Pass me through the security gates, leave me a comment.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry fifteen-Bonjour and all that jazz...

2004-08-08T17:35:00.000-07:00

Hello from France. Apparently what is known(or was known or is known to Frenchmen at least)as the Belle of Europe. Everywhere I go, I see that written on things. Keychains, hats, t-shirts. You name it, they have it emblazoned on it. Loud and clear. Just so you know you are in France. At least that is what was in the tour center at the aeroport when I arrived. Bordeaux is rather quaint and I haven't been off of the vineyard more than once so I wouldn't know if that is same sentiment here.

Sorry it has taken so long to write in and tell you all how I have been. I am sure my one reader was rather disappointed.(Hello George!) But the jetlag really crept in and lasted most of the first week. I would be up and chatting with Renard and Mother, and then my body would feel sluggish. Sentences would trail off and never be finished. Kept staring into space until I practically gave myself cataracts. Going to bed was the only remedy so that is precisely what I did.

France is warm down in this part. Of course I have already mentioned this in my last entry. Just thought perhaps I should reinstate that point into your brains. See, heat is not my friend. Heat is my enemy. My skin does not tan and my body does not deal well with humidity. Which makes it hard to live where I live now in the States. Honestly, I don't know what is worse though the bees(wasps) or the heat? Or the fact that the wasps seem to be loving the heat and I don't love either of them. Yesterday morning, I was stung twice by the same wasp in the same spot. Then later one stung me in the toe. They seem to build their hives amongst the eaves of the wine buildings. The smell of fermented grapes is just the right aphrodesiac so they are mating in high amounts. Mother is allergic to bees so Renard has to look after the wine. He refuses to have an exterminator come because they charge too much. Your typical stingy Frenchman at your service, that's Renard.

Magda is supposed to come here a few days before I am scheduled to leave. This ought to be bittersweet. I have mentioned my relationship with my sister. But I am happy to hear that Krysia will be with her. It would be only the second time I have met Krysia face-to-face. The first time she was too young to remember me. Besides scattered phone calls and letters that never arrive when they are meant to and instead find their way to Poland months later when the news has aged incredibly, we haven't seriously talked. She tells me that she is proud to have an aunt that lives in the United States and teaches at a college. Perhaps that is why Magda is not keen on visiting me. Krysia looks up to me and the competition is rising up in her. Typical older sibling thinking. I'll deal more with that when it comes. I am not going to let a terrible thought leave an indelible stain on my vacation.

Tomorrow one of the workers is taking the day off to show me the highlights of Bordeaux. He's not a bad looking gentleman. However, I know that a couple in France is generally three with the younger generation and he is goy. Cannot marry a goy. It wouldn't be prudent. His name is Jean. And he looks like he could be a student at my college. Oh god, I'm becoming the Mary Kay Letourneau of France.

Com'ere big boy, leave me a comment.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry fourteen-I know I need the rest...

2004-08-02T11:11:00.000-07:00

Mother called me the other afternoon and offered me the chance to spend a week or so in Bordeaux with her. She owns a wineyard with her new companion Renard. From what Magda has told me, it is quite the place. Something for the whole family to take pride in. Which I suppose is true. Henrich has not been there, and I know he wants to go but Mother won't invite him. For some reason, Renard gets nervous around Henrich. As if he would make a pass at him or something proposterous. I almost didn't want to tell Henrich that I was going and especially where I was going. But in the end his eager face made me cave in. He brushed it off of course, but inside he was hurting. Sadly, I know how he feels.

Yet, I have not seen Mother in years. Five years to be specific. She would always visit me in England and would try to make it once a year to New York, but now that I am living where I am currently, she refuses to come out. Apparently the weather gets to her. She is not used to such hot summers. Hating to point out the fact that Poland doesn't always stay cold. New York can get in the 90 degree mark. And I would hate to point out how Mediterranian the South of France can be. Excuses, excuses. But who really counts them anymore? This is a huge effort on her part, calling first to reach out and invite me. Into her home. Into her life again.

So I am packing for a flight out tomorrow. I will still be posting while I in France. My hours will be a little screwed up so you will be reading my tomorrow's news in your today. What is it, like a six hour difference? I should probably check that out. Right now I am getting ready for a department meeting. Semester one starts August 29. I can tell because the professors are starting to get the teaching itch. The need to lecture, hand out assignments, give pop-quizzes, plan their midterms. Most of the people in my department are way ahead of me on all of those things. Teaching is a spontaneous thing. Usually I don't have a lesson plan until the night before class. Sometimes the morning before. Of course, once we crack through that wall of introductory material, the reading of plays takes up a week or two at a time. Then the case and character studies...blah blah blah. Oh look, I am boring myself. Time to stop typing!

Show me where the emergency exits are, leave me a comment.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry thirteen-That old black magic's got me...

2004-07-29T10:45:00.000-07:00

Still sicker than a dog. Even Rabbi is starting to suffer. If I go outside, my allergies kick up and aid the cold. So Rabbi doesn't get his morning walks unless Henrich rises early enough. Right now however, he is taking to the streets trying to find a job. The orchestra is a great start, but he certainly wants to do more with his art and to start up a nice studio to work in, he needs money. But I will admit that it is inspiring to see my brother walking out in the morning wearing a suit and tie. Though that means he comes barreling in at eight or sometimes seven and asks me to tie his tie for him because I do it with such a savoir faire. One day, just to get back at him I am going to use his nice little tie for a tissue. What he dishes out, he can always get back. Karma, don't you know?

Today I finally accomplished sleeping in. The only thing that woke me up was the smell of fresh brewed coffee coming from the kitchen. Henrich knows how to tempt me out of bed. As soon as that pungent aroma hit my nostrils, sleep was forgotten. I know coffee is not the best thing to remedy a cold but I'm a tad bit of an addict. What can you do? There is no twelve step program for coffee addicts. Coffoholics Anonymous anyone? The point is, I slept in until ten o'clock and that was wonderful. Seeing as I stayed up late reading again. Right now I am focusing on The Tarot Workbook so that when I read for people I am more in depth with the meanings. The book suggests I keep a notebook of readings and do these little exercises but right now I don't really have the energy to concentrate on centering the reading's power. Don't worry friends Tarot is safe for me. In the book, they list the Hebrew meanings of the arcanas and such. Not that it matters because currently I am still synangogueless.

Friday is a movie day. That is if I can get my arse out of bed. Let's see if the concert tonight wipes me out. However, I am going to try and make it. The Manchurian Candidate is coming out and since I saw the first one, I am curious to see the changes in this new version. Plus with A+ actors like Denzel, Meryl, and of course Liev who can go wrong? A Demme film with Streep and Washington...I smell Oscars people! Don't gamble on it though, because other movies are coming out tomorrow. The Village which I heard is one of the best thrilling movies out there. What do you expect from the director and writer of The Sixth Sense? Though I must admit Signs was a little too over the top for me. The Village seems to throw in that very Crucible feeling of the era with the mystical hysteria that brought about witch hunts. So that is two movies on my list. Let's just hope that Manchurian and Village beat out Catwoman which did not get a good review with Entertainment Weekly. Liev Schreiber needs an Oscar.

Rant. Over. Speech. Done. Lecture. Finished.

Hold my hand during the scary parts, leave me a comment.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry twelve-They call me mellow yellow...

2004-07-28T11:36:00.000-07:00

Quite rightly. One of the children I babysat for this last Monday has given me a cold. Not just a little sniffle and a cough, but a full blown flu. The whole nine yards. But the funny thing is, the children weren't showing symptoms of sickness while I was babysitting them. So perhaps I am the culprit here and they received the sick germs from me. Who knows? It's not like I can fight with a three year old and a six month old about who gave me the sickies anyway. The point is I am sick.

Henrich has been giving me chicken noodle soup, fluffing my davenport pillows and watching countless hours of Moulin Rouge and Notting Hill with me until I fall asleep. As I write this, he is going to pick up more Kleenex tissues for my reindeer red nose. If people were looking at this from the outside(which knowing the neighbors downstairs, they are)they would think I had recently taken up with a nice looking Jewish boy. Which could either mean Armegeddon or heaven on Earth. Either way they view it they are wrong. Henrich is just my nice younger brother who happens to like the male of the species and actually watches Moulin Rouge and Notting Hill because the leading lads are eye-catchers. I guess other than the relation by blood and the obvous disinterest on Henrich's part, we are a married couple.

Last night I was supposed to have orchestra rehearsal, but I couldn't make it. Which means I am now out twenty bucks. My conductor called me after rehearsal to ask where I was. Honestly, that man sucks on lemons for a living. Always a sour personality, and not much better on the phone when he is missing his first string bassist. Once again, I had to assure him that I would be at the concert tomorrow evening and in high spirits. Though I highly doubt the last part of the statement, I will be there nonetheless because a.)everyone is counting on me and b.)hey let's face it that is fifty bucks. How else am I supposed to pay rent during the summer months? The very last concert is the fifth of August and I cannot wait.

In other news, Jovanna called me this morning to plan a girls' night in. When I answered the phone in sniffles, I could tell that she was disappointed. For I am the friend who never gets sick. According to her, all of her other chums that are not my chums(of which there are very little)get sick at least three times a year if not more. Yet Mischalina is the woman with the iron immune system that never shuts down. So needless to say we are not planning a girls' night in for at least a week. Most of my little cold bouts go away in seven days. August 24, we plan on going to Six Flags. Last year we won tickets during a radio raffle. Now finally, we have time to go and noticed that the tickets expire in September of this year. So in the end it will be Jovanna, her fiance, myself, Colin, Jake, and possibly Henrich if he wishes to go. All of us in our thirties and late twenties, all of us in line to go on Vertical Velocity.

Right now I am going to go and take a bath in Vicks Vapo-Rub and pray that this little trifle of a summer cold doesn't last into the beginning of the school year. Have a wonderful day on me darling readers.

Strap me into the coaster securely, leave me a comment.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry eleven-Spill your guts in 8mm...

2004-07-26T08:07:00.000-07:00

On Friday, just to prove I still had a social life, I went to a nice get together at my friend Linda's. She is a wonderful woman. Works for a parochial school teaching second grade. I met her friend Kathy who is a librarian and let's just say that getting along was no problem whatsoever. They had their wine coolers while Linda's husband Paul fixed me with vodka sours. Linda has two lovely children Matthew and Laura. Matthew is an eighth grader and Laura is a seventh grader. Polite children, which is hard to find in such a media controlled country. But let's not go there right now, shall we?

Kathy was regaling us with stories of her youth, and Linda was doing the same. Now, I knew Linda knew some of my lifestory. However, I did not feel as if I knew Kathy enough to spill my guts to her as the saying goes. She was not going to repeat anything I know, but I could give her tidbits that would make her think differently of me. Not that anything from my childhood can be changed or that I would do differently if I could. These women just had a certain brand of childhood that I didn't receive. Mine was dirty and poverty-stricken and full of Anti-Semitism. Theirs were rich and full of funny anecdotes smacking of innocence. What little I did choose to share seemed to satisfy them. My Catholic school days mainly. I don't think I ever mentioned to Kathy that I was actually in fact Jewish. What a terrible thing to do, forget who you are to impress people. I always tell my students not to do that, and yet here I am doing the same thing on a Friday night.

At the end of the night, I was holding Kathy's phone number because she seemed to like me enough. Which is alright I suppose but I don't know if I can do this on a one-on-one basis. Certainly she must want to know more about me. That is always something that made me a standout in my crowd no matter where I was. A girl from Poland just came to our school, let's get her to speak Polish. Or, a girl from Poland just came to our school, let's get her out of here. Never a good situation. The friends I had then I still have now because if I let them go, I have no one who will understand in the future. Jovanna comes from Italy and went to the same boarding school as me. Thank god she came to the same city I did, just a different college. Lucky Mischalina. The girl who came from nothing and made herself a little piece of something. Yet, she refused to share her anything with anyone.

Today, I have to babysit for my friend Mary. Her grandchildren are in town and since they are deaf and I know a little sign language, they always have me babysit. I feel sixteen years old again. Mary pays me and even though I try to refuse the money, at the end I always take it. What the hell is wrong with me today? Forgive me.

Call me at this number, leave me a comment.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry ten-Losing my religion....

2004-07-23T11:43:00.000-07:00

For some time now I have been trying to find a good synagogue. One that I would feel comfortable raising my children in. A beautiful place to marry the man of my dreams, etc. Sadly this area offers little in the way of synagogues. One might say this city lacks a proper dose of Jewish pride overall. Yes, there are Jewish people here besides Henrich and I. In fact I have met them on more than one occasion. The lady in 72c is Jewish. Orthodox to be exact. Yet she could not point us in the direction of a synagogue. She had not been out of the house in ages, her son did errands for her, and he was a rabbi so on Shabbat she gets her dose of religion through her family. I was not going to ask to sit in on these private meetings of family and faith so I thanked her for her time and walked back to my apartment.

The real decent synagogue that anyone who is anyone goes to is about an hour away. I don't really want to take three buses to get there. Since I cannot hold a driver's license yet and am scared to drive having never done it, we are both stuck taking the bus places. Henrich prefers walking. Truthfully I do as well but when you are rushing to get to your first class at nine, you have to take public transportation. Same with trying to get to Shabbat services. Getting ready requires waking early, something I am not ever good at even when I need to be. My clock runs mainly on its own wits.

So I am in a pickle. Henrich says that maybe the chance to move will present itself and I can take a position at NYU or somewhere. New York is filled with Jewish pride as I know. In fact, they have a section of the city filled with Polish Jews. A way to move back home without having to take a trip and actually come back to Poland. What a relief that would be. But I know how to face facts a tad better and know that finding a position anywhere else might be hard. And as even he has admitted I am not a westcoast girl. I need to be somewhere on the eastern seaboard or I will drown. Funny little poet of a brother I have, no?

Sit next to me in the pew, leave me a comment.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry nine-Saunter down the street...

2004-07-22T06:47:00.000-07:00

Flea markets are odd places. Yesterday in the pavillion downtown, they held a flea market of sorts. Henrich, being the knick knack addict he is, dragged me there against my will. I was contented reading the Tarot Workbook and how it was associated with my religion Judiasm, when he came bounding in and announced(quite loudly in my one good ear)that we were to go to the flea market.

My idea of a good time differs from him in this way. I love to read and enjoy the comfort of my own apartment mainly because the people in this city are quite pragmatic and unpredictable. Henrich loves to go and commune with the bohemes of the city and take in the culture's richness. Which is what I did plenty of in college having roomed with a boheme twice. (when I say boheme I mean the lifestyle, not the actual ethnicity. I know Bohemians and the ones I know are not free-spirited)

So here I was rambling around among the stalls of flea market material. I must admit I was surprised because there was some pretty interesting things. Not anything I would spend my money on, but certainly I could see the pull the object might have on someone who buys things out of a flea market setting on a regular basis. Many people in college furnished their apartments or dorms with furniture from flea markets. Somehow that always gave me the image of the davenport dancing away on the backs of twelve billiob little fleas.(which is why the bed I sleep on today is the bed I carried throughout my whole life mainly)

Henrich ended up meeting a nice enough looking chap, and traded his number with mine so they could get together. Now Henrich has grown in many ways, but let's see if he still plays the "I have a nice apartment" and then shoos me out while he pretends house with his new boyfriend deluxe. That wasn't the only thing he found at the flea market either. He did find a rather nice marble ashtray that will take up fifty percent of the coffee table I have. Granted, I could use it to knock out nosy neighbors or burgulars, but it is ghastly to even try and lift. And who may I ask ended up lugging it back with us on the bus? Me, me, and only me.

It now sits on the coffee table with unlit fags in it. So nouveau riche. You have to take a fag out of the ashtray to light it...OUTSIDE! I don't allow smoking in my apartment because I do not wish to sleep in an apartment that smells of a nightclub. Call me neurotic if you will. When I want a fag, I go outside. The rest of my company that smokes can do the same.

Blow a big smoke ring in my face darlings, leave me a comment.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry eight-Punishment in higher places...

2004-07-21T08:31:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have been remembering my father in pieces and bits. Which is never a good thing. Henrich brought something up about when we learned he had died the other night, and it sent my brain into a tailspin. Of course I can remember where I was at that exact moment. I was sitting in French class and Madam Desjardins was talking about action verbs in the past tense. Suddenly the headmaster came in and said he needed to talk to me.

Now, my friends and I had been pulling some funny stints with our uniforms at this time and I was certain that we had been found out. It was really innocent stuff, things like leaving our gym skirts on the radiator or throwing our berets in the trees right before school so that they had to allow us to go a day without berets. We'd always get them on the way home. But here I am going on a tangent again. Where was I? Oh yes, the headmaster led me down the long hallway until we came upon his office. Something I had never seen the inside of.

When I got in the door, his secretary Miss Baker smiled at me with bleary eyes. At that moment I knew something was either wrong with her vision or she had been crying not too long ago. She handed me a pretty pink slip of paper and a telegram. The telegram was from Mother and the pink slip was allowing me to come home for the funeral. Father's body was going to be shipped back to Poland for burial amongst his family.

At that moment, I remember feeling nothing. The man that had created me was not a nice man and the fact that he was dead gave me a guilty feeling of relief. Henrich assured me the other night that he felt the same. Needless to say, the only person who came home for the funeral was Magda. After that, she never left Poland even when Mother moved to France. She lives there still and things have always been strained between us. Mostly, she accuses me and Henrich of not caring about the family. But what she doesn't know is the things I have been remembering. Somehow, her brain is the most powerful of them all. Even though she never finished schooling, her brain knows how to trap memories and smother them better than either of us could ever do. In the end I think she forgave Father for what he did to us but not what he did to her. That would take too much remembering.

Father died when I was 16. Henrich was 11. Magda was 18. Magda found a man and married young. She now has Krysia and lives in Warsaw. In the same house we grew up. The one we reclaimed from the Natzis after the war era. All those bad memories locked up tight in the walls of the house and of Magda's head. Sound and safe as if they never existed and Henrich and myself made them all up.

But it's in the remembering you find healing.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry seven-One of the better surveys

2004-07-20T11:51:00.000-07:00

Twenty Favorite Things:

1. Myself(which should be the top of everyone's list)

2. Writing

3. Shakespeare

4. Dark Peacoats

5. Lyrics

6. Poetry

7. Charlie Chaplin

8. Gin&tonics

9. Long cigarettes

10. Audrey Hepburn

11. Low voices

12. Stars

13. Laughter(the long loud kind)

14. Chinese takeout

15. Family members

16. My niece Krysia

17. Hearing "I love you" whispered over a phone

18. Poland

19. Art galleries

20. Cafes

Nineteen Things I Did This Week:

1. Worked a stint at Renaissance Faire

2. Gave one hell of a performance

3. Talked with my niece on the phone

4. Had a meaninful conversation with Henrich

5. Re-fell in love with Colin Firth

6. Watched RKO-281 for the fiftieth time

7. Biked twelve miles in twenty minutes

8. Re-re-re-read The Tempest

9. Started my notes for the upcoming semester

10. Danced my ever loving arse off

11. Ate pressed duck with peapods

12. Cleaned the apartment

13. Went swimming in a friend's pool

14. Had a girls' night in with Jovanna

15. Spoke to a friend in the military

16. Kissed a stranger on the nose

17. Tried to find a synagogue but failed

18. Nearly fainted because I saw a worm

19. Enjoyed every second of life

Eighteen People I Know (and Love): No particular order, other than when they spring to mind.

1. Mother

2. Henrich

3. Magda

4. Krysia

5. Petra

6. Jovanna

7. Abraham(no not the biblical figure.. an ex)

8. Sam

9. Rehab

10. Dr. Jenkins

11. Quady

12. Marcella

13. Daneil

14. Renard

15. Davey

16. Beth

17. Andrew

18. The person who is reading this right now

Seventeen Bands/Singers/Groups I Like: Again, order they spring to mind.

1. Mozart

2. Beethoven

3. Poe

4. Jeff Buckley

5. Fiona Apple

6. Billie Holiday

7. Chet Baker

8. Louis Armstrong

9. Rosemary Clooney

10. Deathcab for Cutie

11. Janis Joplin

12. Donovan

13. Led Zeppelin

14. The Beatles

15. Moody Blues

16. Oasis

17. Tori Amos

Sixteen Favourite Films: No particular order.

1. Amelie

2. Breakfast at Tiffany's

3. The Kid/Gold Rush(tie)

4. Citizen Kane

5. The Royal Tenenbaums

6. About a Boy

7. The Ice Storm

8. A Walk on the Moon

9. Pretty Dirty Things

10. The Dancer Upstairs

11. Mr. Jealousy

12. Midsummer Night's Dream(a good rendition of Master Will)

13. White Oleander

14. A Perfect Murder

15. The Manchurian Candidate(can't wait to see the new one)

16. Benny and Joon

Fifteen Things I Hate:

1. Judgement

2. Homophobia

3. Rascism

4. Anti-semitism

5. Failure

6. Loneliness

7. Not being able to drive

8. Seperation from Family

9. One night stands

10. Hangovers

11. Egotists

12. Being sheltered through my childhood

13. Death

14. Bridges

15. Ending things

Fourteen Things I Love:

1. Friends

2. Laughter

3. Grey eyes

4. Jewish men

5. Dark curly hair

6. Teaching

7. Leaving an impression

8. Acting

9. Reading

10. Black and white camera film

11. Musicals

12. Happiness

13. Fireplaces

14. My dog Rabbi

Thirteen Favourite Foods:

1. Atichokes

2. Rice

3. Burgandy Olives

4. Pressed duck

5. Strawberry milkshakes

6. Crab rangoon

7. Apples

8. Chicken Italiano

9. Tortellini Panna

10. Limes

11. Chinese anything with lobster sauce

12. Sunflower seeds

13. Cheesecake

Twelve Favourite Beverages:

1. Coffee black

2. Chai

3. Frescantes

4. Cranberry strawberry juice

5. Seagram's winecoolers

6. Strawberry cheesecake lattes

7. Champagne

8. Bottled water/ice water

9. Soy milk

10. Vodka with cranberry

11. Hard cider

12. Apple juice

Eleven Authors I Love:

1. Shakespeare

2. e.e. cummings

3. Frank&Gillian

4. F. Scott Fitzgerald

5. Banana Yoshimoto

6. Sylvia Plath

7. Virginia Wolfe

8. Edgar Allen Poe

9. Stephen Chbosky

10. Jonathan Safran Foer

11. Emily Dickinson

Ten Things I Want to Do Before I Die:

1. Live in London again

2. Patch things up with Magda

3. Find love

4. Get published

5. Reprise my role as Lady Macbeth in public theater

6. Play Hermoine to Liev Schreiber's Leontes in The Winter's Tale

7. Forget my father and all the hurt he caused

8. Vacation in New Zealand

9. Publish my memoirs

10. Hear one of my students thank me in a speech

Nine Favourite Albums:

1. Mozart-Requiem

2. Jesus Christ Superstar Soundtrack

3. The Beatles- Rubber Soul

4. Jeff Buckley-Grace

5. Poe-Haunted

6. John Frusciante-Shadows Collide with People

7. Tori Amos-At The Choirgirl Hotel

8. Jets to Brazil-Four Cornered Night

9. Deathcab for Cutie-Transatlanticism

Eight Things I Can’t Do, But Wish I Could:

1. Cartwheel

2. Play guitar

3. Finish a novel

4. Save money

5. Keep my hair looking sexy

6. Find a boyfriend

7. Drive

8. Earn US citizenship and ditch the work visa thing

Seven Guilty Pleasures:

1. Accents from UK

2. Cheesecake for one

3. Clove Cigarettes

4. Jewish boys

5. Swearing

6. Collecting theater programmes

7. Quoting Shakespeare

Six People You Find Attractive:

1. Johnny Depp

2. Liev Schreiber

3. Jude Law

4. Colin Firth

5. Hugh Grant

6. Viggo Mortensen

Five Favourite Places to Shop:

1. On Second Thought

2. Alloy(a thirty-three year old wearing Alloy..run away)

3. Samuel's Deli

4. Dr. Freud's

5. B&N

Four Favourite Places to Eat:

1. Victoria's

2. Champagne Charlie's

3. Jade Palace

4. Newey's

Three Television Shows I Like:

1. CSI

2. PBS documentaries

3. Friends

Two Things I Want More Than Anything:

1. A good Jewish man who is faithful this time

2. Life to work out right

One Cause I Believe In:

1. Forging of peace between Polish and Polish Jews

Entry six-All's Faire that ends Faire

2004-07-19T06:40:00.000-07:00

Sorry it has taken me so long to blog again. This weekend I was scheduled to work at the Renaissance Faire in my area. Usually I love working at the Faire, it is the best part of my summer. This year the feeling was dampened by the fact that I would be leaving a newly arrived Henrich alone in my apartment. However, I could not and would not back out of the Faire because I was under contract and because I wanted to see old friends and reconnect. Don't think that is too selfish is it? No of course not. So I gave him direct instructions which I know he threw away immediately upon my retreating back, but c'est la vie.

What can I say about the Faire? It was enjoyable. Arriving Friday morning at eight, the tornado sirens went off. This is not a good sign for a woman who has never experienced a tornado. Plus, I was in all my Renaissance garb and didn't have any clothes to change into if I had to go to some hotel in the area and cower. The Faire is about three hours from my city so it would be moronic to go back home in a storm. Plus, I came with others and they didn't want to leave. Damn men, they love to brave a storm. My friend Rehab just smiled into the clouds, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me into the gates.

This year, I was scheduled to be Lady Macbeth in a rendition of Shakespeare's Macbeth. Well no kidding. No, I was in the Edgar Allen Poe rendition of Macbeth. Good lord. My brain is all over the apartment this morning. Forgive me. Anyway, last year I was Ophelia to the same man's Hamlet. His name is actually Will. Perhaps he is the funniest man I have ever had the misfortune to meet. I say misforutne because I fell for him during last summer's Faire. Thsi is because last year I spent all summer at the Faire working closely with him and you cannot but help feel a little something, right? Anyway, this year his wife was there staring me down as I said my soliliquy. Which makes me angry because never once did he mention a wife. A traveling man hardly ever does though. I should have known. Let's just say the anger came out in the performance. At the end when we ask for tips and cheers, I had the most cheers out of any performance so far. And people kept putting tips in my bodice(as is custom at the Faire for ladies) so I received a nice amount for the opening day. We only live off of our tips, so it is important that we receive them. At the end, as we were preparing for final ceremonies, Will came up to me and told me what an excellent job I did. Coldly, I looked back at him and told him to thank his wife for me because if it wasn't for her incessant staring and anger at him for not telling me, the performance would not have had that much venom. With that I joined the lines and cursed the ground he walked upon. The rest of the weekend's performances went off without a hitch and I maintained the venom of Friday.

As usual, I ate too much for my small gullet. It was getting to the point where I felt as if I might rip open my bodice(a great feat if you have ever worn a bodice)but the food there is wonderful. Turkey legs the size of your forearms. Artichokes soaked in lemon butter. And of course as much ale and hard cider as you can stomch. For me that means one ale and two hard ciders. Never do I drink when I am working at the Faire. I usually come back a few more weekends just to be a tourist not a worker. Which reminds me I am scheduled again in August for a weekend to be Ophelia to Will's Hamlet. Will the madness never end with me and my jaded love forlorn bullshivek? The Bard would have a field day with me.

Returning home, I found Henrich had not thrown out the directions as I had suspected. Opening the door, I smelled the fair aroma of pressed duck with peapods from my favorite Chinese restaurant. Rabbi's leash was gone and so I knew that he had taken Henrich for a walk. My apartment did not look like a sty for pigs. In fact the countertops were spotless, the dishes done, and the pullout couch folded in and pillows fluffed. Martha Stewart had escaped and come down to my apartment to fluff my pillows! That must be it because there is no way my sloppy brother Henrich did this. I must still have been shaking my head when Henrich and Rabbi returned. Coming up behind me, he gave me a huge hug. Thus crushing every little breath out of me that had been sucked into the bodice that I was still wearing. I turned to see a dapper Henrich. This was not the Henrich I had last seen in March. This man was different. Dapper. Stronger, and handsome. March saw him gruff and scraggly. Hair untouched, beard growing, grey eyes cloudy. Now he had nicely cut and maintained hair, no beard, and his eyes were alive. Finally he starts to look like the eight and twenty he is.

Needless to say, it was a bittersweet weekend. Last night all we did was talk as I built a fire in the fireplace. Forget the fact that it was eighty-one. We loved fires as kids. Drawn to the flame. It created a comfort we hardly felt at heart. So Henrich and I talked about the big changes he decided to make in his life. And I told him about Will. The whole thing was touching and we both finally said our goodnights at three this morning. I woke to him whistling as he went out to walk Rabbi again. Poor dog is in heaven, he better not get used to it though. When Henrich is gone, there will be no walkings at seven. Not until the school year at least.

Tell me your life story, or at least what you did this weekend.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina

Entry five-We were supposed to be amazed...

2004-07-16T07:03:00.000-07:00

My brother Henrich is a pain in the arse. Right now I am seriously considering not naming my first born male child after him. Last night he called at an awkward hour, drunk as all out, and told me that he was evicted from his apartment. So now he is going to camp out at my apartment until he can find a better rent-controlled place. Which I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him in a sarcastic tone that finding rent-control in the city is like finding the Pope in a synagogue.

Just a little background info on why I finally relented and am letting him stay here for a few weeks(ok let's get serious probably more like months). Henrich and I were both the black sheep of the family. For me, it was because I wanted to go to college to study Shakespeare and the art of writing. For Henrich, it was because he is a homosexual. You might think I am making this up. Trust me, I am not. I know a homosexual brother in a bad situation sounds like a sitcom, but it's not in this case. Henrich was a brilliant athlete as well as good at drama. But ever since he was wee I can remember him saying that boys were pretty. Kathalina(my mother) kept going to the Rabbi to have him talk with Henrich. As far as she knows he changed. What is she going to possibly find out living in France. Only Magda followed Kathalina's dream of marriage early and children.

I digress again. Whatever it was in the past is past. Right now I am concentrating on where Henrich is going to sleep. If James and Katie weren't already moved in across the way, he could have lived there. That way I could have kept an eye on him and he could have a nice apartment in the city. But I guess there is another plan for him somewhere. Henrich is a tad of a recluse. Going through relationships like water. He is trying to make his life as a musician. A finer cello player you will never find. But there is not much need for him around here. Usually I try and convince him to come back to college where I teach and find an arts based job. But Henrich is proud of what he has accomplished so that conversation is always at a standstill with us.

Rabbi can sense a new arrival. That dog should join up with the pyschic friends network for the love of borst.

Listening:Jethro Tull-Thick as a Brick
Thinking:In less than a day my brother will be here
Feeling:As if my world is spinning too near the sun

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry four-Juliet without a balcony...

2004-07-15T07:13:00.000-07:00

Last night, my best friend Jovanna and I were sitting on the fire escape and it came to our attention that if there really was a Romeo and Juliet situation, we could not have a balcony scene. Fire escapes are not as romantic as a balcony overgrown with Spanish vines. Honestly, we think of some of the stupidest things. I don't think it mattered much to Jovanna, who has been dating her boyfriend for two years and has an engagement ring the size of my pupils. But the thought was a little discouraging. Funny yes because I couldn't not see some Jewish Romeo climbing my escape. Nowadays, he would just have to be speaking through the buzzer intercom system. Parting wouldn't be such sweet sorrow, if all he had to do was go right through the front door.

We watched The Butterfly Effect and Secret Window. Both of us agree that we don't care that Johnny Depp turned out to be a schizophrenic serial killer. All we really cared about was that he was and is the hottest man in American cinema that is a goy. I could listen to him all day. If you have not seen the movie, kill me for a just gave away a chunk of the movie. The Butterfly Effect was interesting. Good acting despite the fact that I don't get the big "pull" of Ashton Kutcher to females. However, they gave us a disc with two different endings. We watched the theatrical only. Now it is up to me to watch the director's cut and tell her how it went. Usually, I prefer the director's cut to theatrical. You never know what other goodies they might have thrown in the mix.

This morning I woke up too early again. Rabbi knows that he better not have to walk before ten a.m. in summer, but today I guess the poor dear could not hold it. So up we go at seven this morning. He had to sniff every square inch of the block to find his corner. So I stand waiting patiently while my curly hair is blowing around frizzy in the wind. (My legs are streaked orange because Jovanna's self tanner expired last year without our knowledge of it doing so. Needless to say, my legs are an unappealing shade of orange. The kind you might find in shag carpeting circa 1970.) Rabbi sure knows how to take his sweet time. And to think I got him because they claimed it was easy to toilet train this kind of dog. Who to sue, who to sue? (kidding)

Tonight I have to have my picture taken for the directory. So excited. Jovanna is coming over an hour early so she can tame my hair. It needs more than a brush, it needs a bullwhip and a chair. Jovanna is the professor of Astronomy so her picture is before mine, alphabetically speaking of course. We both hate pictures and photographers who grab at various amounts of flesh exclusively belonging to females. They always tilt my head at odd angles because my face is so long. Needless to say, I will have a sore neck tomorrow. And I will be angry when the picture comes out looking the same as it did last year.

Listening:Holst-Chaconne Suite
Thinking:What to wear tonight not that it matters
Feeling:Like Lady Percy in Henry IV during the singing scene

Entry three-Kissing your own ass just isn't as fun...

2004-07-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

The department hates me. I must be their black sheep, their sore thumb, the pain in their side. The only reason they don't fire me is because my classes have the highest enrollment in the department. I don't know why. It's not like I wear mini-skirts and really red lipstick or bend over when I "drop" a book. All the usual tactics practiced by young female professors to enhance male enrollment in the English department. To tell you the truth, I don't know if my class even knows what I am talking about for an hour because of my garbled Polish accent. Must.Work.On.Accent.

So they called this morning at eight(because obviously I wouldn't be still sleeping at eight in the summer months)to tell me that my conference had to be cancelled. Actually, the conference was not cancelled. In fact, next week it will be going on beautifully in Venice. Yes, THE Venice. Not Venice Beach. Italy. Italia. Le sigh. They just don't think that going to conference is what the department needs to brush up the Shakespeare side of the department. They are secretly trying to get more people into American Literature. Damn college politics. I shouldn't complain since most colleges are cutting seriously into English departments. Thank god for liberal arts colleges. Still, I have wanted to go to Venice since I knew where it was.

Thus started my morning with a bust instead of a bang. No, actually the banging was the headache I received from going out with friends last night. Everyone thinks it is cute that I have Russian in me, and that Poland is the second largest producer of Vodka in the world,so they think they can make me do shots of both to see if I can tell the difference. To tell you the truth I honestly cannot. I have no fucking idea what the difference is. All vodka is to me is a clear liquor made of fermented potatoes. Still, I love to call their bluff and try my damndest. When oh when am I going to start behaving like a thirty-three year old? Is this because I missed the fun in college while pouring over Shakespeare essays? Bullshivek.

I am off to make the strongest coffee known to man. Now when it comes to coffee, I know the difference. Don't believe me? Challenge me. That is what I am here for.

Listening to:Poe-Hey Pretty
Thinking:Currently blocked by alcohol and anger
Feeling:Like a nice large truck ran over me countless times

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry two-I live at the end of a 5 1/2 minute hallway...

2004-07-13T10:28:00.000-07:00

New neighbor alert. This morning I was dreaming of something exciting. Perhaps my wedding to a nice Jewish man with an actual brain who is not living with his mother. Anyway, I was awakened by my Jack Russell terrier Rabbi, barking his head off. Now, he might be a small little dog, but he is loud. Were a burgular ever to try and break in, I would know before he got ten feet in front of the door. Great sixth sense Rabbi has. But I digress.

After I pulled my robe around myself, I heard a bunch of knocking around that sounded as if to be right in front of my door. So now I was getting a little paranoid I admit. Not that anyone would burgle in the morning. Rabbi is barking his head off. Trying to shush him so as to calm my nerves and make sure the neighbors didn't bang on the walls, ceilings, floors etc, I opened the door tentatively.

There was a great deal of boxes right in front of my doorway. And standing opening the door across the hall was a nice looking man. He turned at the noise of my slightly squeaky door and smiled a nice full smile at me. Perfect teeth I noticed, which is a thing with me. Probably because it took seven long years for mine to be straighter than a nun. I walked across the length of the space between his door and mine and reached out my hand to shake with his. He took it and told me his name was James. Nice looking man. Dark chestnut hair and blue eyes. Sounded like he was from the South, but not the deep south. Like the Carolinas or something. You get the picture I am sure.

I helped him move a few boxes while Rabbi trailed on my heels smelling every box making sure there was not anthrax or crack in it. My good little drug sniffing dog. The boxes weren't that heavy, and he seemed impressed that I could lift the ones that were. Assuring him that I might be slight, but I was mighty got a laugh out of him. Nice friendly chuckle. So by this time I am thinking that God has smiled upon me finally. As the white dress picture flashes in my mind, I notice the ring. No, that deserves capitalization. I noticed THE RING. Of course there was a hitch. This is how God punishes me for attending a Catholic school oh so many year ago.

His wife, it turns out is moving in next week after she finishes packing up the rest of the house. Some of the furniture was in there already. He said they had moved it in around the end of May, which is when I was still teaching. No wonder I was oblivious to this whole other world colliding with mine across the foot and a half space. He is some kind of law clerk, or advisor. And his wife, Katie is a boutique owner. So that sealed my fate in hell. They will be happily married across from me. Sheesh, listen to me when did I get so jaded?

Let's just hope they are not loud lovers. The last couple sounded like they were about to put their heads through the walls. I wonder what happened to them...

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.

Entry one-Living la vida polska kielbasa...

2004-07-12T11:05:00.000-07:00

Hello all and welcome to my blog. My name is Mischalina and I am here to entertain you. I am a thirty-three year old professor of Shakespearean Literature. You might have seen a screwed up link to me in photogeneric's blog. I don't know what happened to that. Apparently our emails are similar. Whatever, bygones I guess.

I was born in Warsaw, Poland thirty-three years ago. On November 23. That makes me a Sagittarius. Not that I really follow astrology. My mother sent me to safety in England when I was twelve after my parents divorced and they were looking for my father who is a socialist and a Jew. Two things that the Polish look to demolish most of the time. Just a little current events lesson for you. I was educated in a Catholic boarding school in England. I still have the fucking uniform and still fit in it. How pathetic is that? (I don't know but it makes for a great Hallow's Eve costume.) So here I was, a Jew genuflecting every morning at nine wearing a skirt of plaid. Laugh it up kids, I sure do.

Educated at Oxford(tea-time darlings, how posh) I then finished my degree at Julliard. Right now I teach Shakespearean Literature at a liberal arts college in the United States. Not that I am going to tell you where it is. You're lucky if you figure out my real name. For now, I don't think it matters who I am since I am technically just another blogger out there in blogger space. But keep coming back if you feel the need, I will always be here blogging it up, as the hip-hop kids would say. Don't shoot me if that is wrong. I don't know much about culture here. Too old for that.

Trying to write a novel for young adults. Not really my crowd, but people tell me the idea seems more young adult than adult. I love writing, but I do not love the mechanics of all of it. Hopefully it will be published and you can read it and say you knew me back when I was just another boring blog to read in your spare time. Wish me all the luck in the world. There doesn't seem to be a myth of luck of the Polish anywhere.

Leave a comment, profess your undying love to me.

all the world's a stage,
Mischalina.