Famous Austrians XIV: Erwin Schrödinger

Erwin Schrödinger is generally considered the father of quantum mechanics, and the man behind the famous "Schrödinger's cat" theory in quantum physics.

Born in Vienna in 1887, Schrödinger was a gifted mathematics student and devoured the works of Schopnehauer. He earned his doctorate in 1914 (receiving the highest honors possible) and later that year worked as a commissioned officer in World War I. After the war, he had several professorships at leading European universities before winding up at the University of Zurich.

In 1935, he worked on his Schrödinger's cat experiment with Einstein, and won the Nobel prize. Due to an unorthodox lifestyle (living with his wife and mistress and expecting the university to fund what no doubt had been labeled as - at the least - licentious), he found it easy to find - yet difficult to keep - a professorial position. He accepted visiting positions, from Berlin to Graz to Oxford.

Because of his known anti-Nazi position, after the Anschluss in 1939, he could no longer life and work in Germany (Austria) and found himself in Dublin at the Institute for Advanced Studies.

For those of you unfamiliar with the quantum theory of physics, it is fascinating, though a little freaky. Basically, everything you know about physics can be thrown out the window when applying quantum theory because there are more than the three dimensions we know exists. Scientists are unsure of the number of dimensions that do exist, but current estimates are up to eleven - ELEVEN! That's so awesome, it's almost hard to believe!

Because of Schrödinger, much of the current research done in the quantum realm is in Vienna, though there is also plenty of research being done throughout the rest of the world, including in Paris and many parts of the United States. For more information, PBS has a good explanation - plus, the related (but different) string theory.

A Single Man

I saw the film by Tom Ford when it came out in 2010, and was impressed by Colin Firth preparing a role that was, in essence, a one-man-show with props of other actors (he was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actor but did not win). Mr. Firth, unfortunately, was all that could be recommended for this film. I thought it was a little too something - ostentatiously gay? Visual? Superficial? Self-promotional? I'm not sure.

So, I liked the movie, but not as much as I thought I would. I saw a spot for it on Sunday Morning With Charles Osgood and various commercial spots...it seemed a lot deeper and artier than it actually was. In fact, I thought it was actually complete crap, and Colin Firth's character was a sleazy and maladjusted type for attempting an affair with a student.

Nonetheless, I have been looking for some Christopher Isherwood stuff, specifically the Berlin Stories or Mr. Norris Changes Trains and Goodbye to Berlin, as they were published in Europe. I'm planning to write my own "Vienna Stories" and would like some inspiration as to how to format my collection. Since these stories are more famously known (and set to music) as Cabaret, and in that form likely Isherwood's most famous works, I figure they're a good place to start.

However, when I went to the library, I didn't find what I wanted. They did have A Single Man on the shelf, however, and I decided, well, any Isherwood is better than no Isherwood.

What I love about A Single Man is that George is overtly and unapologetically gay in 1960's California (before the hippies, mind you - circa 1961). Isherwood's writing style, choice of scene and structure, never let the reader forget George's sexuality. In fact, Isherwood's style is pretty sparse, borrowing a page from Hemmingway's book in that it has very little physical description of characters or place; though it is better (i.e. not as bare bones) as The Sun Also Rises, for example. In concentrating on  the sensual aspects of live, the novella is charmingly and grippingly sensory - not erotic, not bogged down in details or description, just sensual. The ocean scene, where George goes for a dip (naked midnight romp?) with Kenny in the Pacific is one of the few exceptions to this, but in its description, continues to center on emotions George feels, rather than the temperature of the water, as an example. And it is critically important to George's psyche - the ocean, the young man, symbolize George's rebirth after Jim's death.


I was pleasantly surprised that the novella far exceeds the film. Isherwood's character George, far from being the superficial, self-conscious and self-promoting type of gay man Tom Ford made him out to be, is down-to-earth, sarcastic and outrageous as only a gay man can be, and though wounded by the loss of the love of his life (Jim, who passed away in a car crash visiting his folks in Ohio), George perseveres, does not assault himself by minimizing his love, like society is wont to do, or falling into an almost-affair with a student - he more or less fantasizes about sex, but does not delude himself into grander emotions, or actually committing any acts. Besides, Kenny (the student) doesn't have much to offer George beyond a nice body. Aside from scratching an itch, Kenny's not much of a catch. He's pretty dopey.


The one thing I hate about A Single Man (which was ambiguous in the book, but more ambiguous in the film) is that George dies at the end. Why does he die, when the book is about persevering despite obstacles?! It was so annoying, because it implied that a person cannot be total, complete, without another person to live with, love, and more importantly, have sex with. Most of the time protagonists in such situations are women falling all over themselves for a man, but obviously anyone can fall victim to the mentality - the sex part almost always shrouded in innuendo in anything pre-Woolfe (or pre-Anais Nin) for the woman. Gotta keep those Victorian double standards in working order...

Anyway, I think it's ridiculous that anyone should ever want to be defined by another, in any way. Yes, love is powerful, and I think true love does exist, but it is not the be-all and end-all of an existence to get married (or move in together) and "become" that other person, or have that other person become you. Sure, people need relationships, another to guide them, help them and give them the chance to become the best they can be through love and support and faith in their love. And it is painful to lose someone so dear and necessary to you. But that does not mean when you lose someone, you should not go on living! You are still you, not the other person and you deserve to continue your life, perhaps diminished, but hopefully not for long!

Losing love and losing faith are not one in the same, and though losing both can be devastating, no one says you have to.

On the Job

It occurs to me I haven't said much about teaching recently, and I'm wondering now why that is.

To get to the root of it, I'd like to ask myself a few questions: am I trying to hide something, or feel that I cannot be honest? Do I have "better" things to write about? Do I feel my audience has little interest? Have I categorized teaching into one of those things I don't think about anymore (…going on autopilot…) and thus don't have anything enlightening to say?

Well, I suppose I should take a step back and simply state what's been happening in the world of school. In early February, we had the end of the first semster, a week off (Austrians will take any excuse for time off : woohoo!), and then came back to a new semester, and a slightly new teaching schedule. I haven't been the most satisfied, and that's why I feel I need to ask myself these questions.

Because the real question is whether I want to make a profession out of teaching? I'm still on the fence. Now more than ever, since I've had two years in the "business." It seems a little stifling...by that I mean the material isn't very challenging, the expectations are not as high as they could be - for me or my students. However, I have little autonomy in the classroom, especially this year. I guess I should keep in mind that, if/when I become a "real" teacher, rather than just an assistant, i.e. live-action dictionary, I will be able to set my own rules, curriculum, etc., at least more so than currently.

I've been thinking very seriously about becoming TEFL certified, to teach English abroad. I met a few English teachers abroad this summer, and they all had positive things to say about their experiences. I'll be honest, I'm a little afraid of being let loose in a classroom full of kids whose native language is not English, especially if I don't know their native language, either. If I did take an online course to become TEFL certified, I could even stay in Austria. I haven't yet made up my mind whether I'd like that or not.

The biggest uproar in the Austrian school system is the new Zentralmatura, which is the new, centralized government school-leaving exam for Austrian secondary students. All students who are now in the sixth year at Gymnasium (roughly American Sophomores) will have to take the centralized state test. There’s been lots of “debate” (whining) about it at school, from my colleagues.

The difference between the Zentralmatura and the traditional Matura (similar to the German Abitur) from which they’re transitioning is basically the difference between the American ACT and a high school final exam a teacher creates at the end of the year. Although the Matura is farther reaching than either an ACT or a final exam, basically teachers have had the right (and autonomy) to put whatever they wanted on their exams for their students, i.e. testing them on exactly what they’ve been taught. 


The Matura typically includes a German comprehension portion, a Math and Science portion, and a foreign language portion (either written or oral) in English – the most popular – or another living language, typically French, Spanish, Italian or Russian. The teachers are complaining that the new Zentralmatura is killing their classes. They have to teach twice as much, with half the preparation time. That is, they have to teach what they've always been teaching in school, plus the addenda of multiple choice/standardization/teaching to the test. I get it. I would complain, too!

All of the explanations I’ve gotten for the transition to a centralized state test have not sufficed in my opinion. It seems like a big fat mistake and a hollow attempt to copycat the American secondary system, which is completely broken! Come on, people. If you’re going to change your system, at least get a good, viable role model, not a crappy, broken-down one. I thought everyone knew the ACT/SAT stuff was just a load of graft set up by the Princeton Review – forcing unsuspecting highschoolers to fork over money by telling them they’ll never get into college if they don’t take one of these tests. Maybe this is overblown, and has nothing to do with the United States. But then again, Austria has imported Jersey Shore - (why do they always choose the bad aspects of American culture?)

The Zentralmatura is in some ways worse as a standardized test, because no one is ever forced to take the ACT. Some colleges and universities don’t require them in an application anymore (like my alma mater, in fact); but, to graduate from Gymnasium at all, let alone go to uni, you need to pass the Matura. How’s that for Schwindel, hmm? Not to mention, standardized testing is a completely foreign cultural concept anyway, which is the root of most of the complaints.

Recently, Die Presse has been running articles on the various opinions related to the Zentralmatura. Though they are in German, here is a link.

Beggars in Vienna

Translation - Beggar: Spare some change?
Man w/dog: Come, Hercules, let's leave the man a donation and save ourselves the baggy.

I must have one of those faces.

You know, those gullible, sappy, emotive faces that scream "I am a pushover." Because in Vienna, I keep getting approached by bums who want my spare change.

Not only this, when I decline and say I don't have any, they push and say, "Oh, but you have a bank card? You could go to an ATM and get money out and go buy me groceries."

To which I normally say, "Are you kidding?"

In most cases, they are not, so I have on occasion had to tell them I would call the police if they followed me - one guy did.

Am I being too mean to the beggars? At least I don't leave them dog poop.

Wiener Schmäh

FALSCH!

There's something about Vienna - its gloomy February days where, sometimes, the clouds roll in for weeks at a time, making the narrow streets denser, darker, more Medieval - that contributes to that certain, characteristic Viennese sense of humor.


Referred to as Wiener Schmäh by the locals, this gallows humor is melancholy, sarcastic, and just often enough, mean. The term comes from the German verb schmähen which means "to abuse, taunt; to vilify someone." The mentality is said to stem from the working-class denizens of the 19th century who had a more or less Dickensian look on life. Well, can you blame them? Dickens knew what he was writing about! He does have an adjective named after him.

Part of this is evident in what Freud liked to call Schadenfreude, that is, feeling good about yourself when someone else is suffering. Austrians like this. They also like correctness. By that, I mean they like being right. It gives them a sense of self-satisfaction. In fact, a typically Austrian habit is having things your way. Just like at Burger King. 


In the mind of an Austrian, there is a right way and a wrong way to do everything. Their way is right, yours is wrong. However, it is justifiable to do things your "wrong" way, as long as you follow the Austrian's "right" way rules: thus enters bureaucracy! I would argue this can be traced back to the Habsburgs. All that empire hoopla.  I can't even remember how many times I've been told, "You're doing it wrong," by an Austrian. From how I pronounce my "ä"s to what type of cake I order at a cafe - yes, I am getting a slice of Linzertorte because that is what I like. You are not going to eat it, so shut up. It's still a free country, even if socialist (joke!) - everything seems to be up for grabs. 

Linzer Torte

 Unfortunately, I seem to have adopted a bit of that cynicism. Maybe it's because I'm getting over a cold. Maybe it's because the weather turned from below zero temperatures (Fahrenheit) for weeks on end to being in the 30's and 40's within a few days - should make me happy, but my sinuses are disagreeing - but I've been feeling a little geschmäht recently. A little victimized. A tad, wee bit under the weather - in the grumpy sense of the phrase. In fact, I've been a regular cynical grouch. I'll just have to wait for something bad to happen to someone else, and then I'll feel better.

The Elegance of the Hedgehog

A book I found in the apartment that looked interesting, The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery, is a touching, stream-of-consciousness gem that, I think I can say, moved me.


I read it in English (grace à the copy available) though it was originally written and published in French. The story revolves around a concierge named Renée in a ritzy Parisian apartment building who has had to hide her intelligence and love of art and culture all her life, and a 12-year-old girl  named Paloma living in the apartment building, daughter of a university professor and a French parliamentarian, who has the same problem.


I liked the book from its cover, which originally made me want to read it. Also, Johanna collects hedgehogs, and I wondered if this had been given to her based on the title.


It turns out, Renée is compared to a hedgehog by Paloma: tough and prickly on the outside but soft and uassuming on the inside. For some reason that makes them elegant. Not the word I would choose, but whatever. Eventually Renée and Paloma develop a friendship, and become confidants for each other's inner lives, until tragedy strikes. 


The format of the novel is a bifurcated narration, half Renée, half Paloma, and centers a lot on interior monologue and journal entries. Literary and high-brow cultural references abound, as well as some pop culture stuff, mostly pertaining to France. The book is very French - that is, catering to a French audience and written by a French person. It has the same sort of set-up, mistakes, poignant details and allusions as a Truffaut film, with tone and style elements borrowed, it seems, from a Marguerite Duras play, or a Philippe Claudel novel.


The extreme intelligence of both main characters is at first a bit hard to believe, as we only have their opinions to go on, and irksome later on, when they seem so absorbed in absorbing culture, literature, the beauty of the world, etc., that they become static - unmoving, uninterested, and yes, even selfish - vessels of such intelligence. If there really were two geniuses residing at 7, rue de Grenelle, Paris, shouldn't they be doing something more proactive and constructive than whining about how they're so smart that no one will understand them, and the world is so bleak that it's best not to get involved - or just end it all? 


That's not to say Barbery didn't pull off the characters. The book did have remarkably funny parts, and was great fun to read.  Considering myself an intellectual, and tickled especially when I come across obscure references to things I like (Mozart, Kant, Tolstoy, etc.), I loved the characters and the idea behind what Barbery was trying to accomplish. But upon finishing The Elegance of the Hedgehog, I found the idea underdeveloped as a whole. It lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. 

Wild Poppies, or: Recollection

poppies in a field in Amstetten

I know that I will have many memories of my time in Austria. One of the fondest, and yet more mundane, will be of my daily walk/run along the Ybbs. I have finally brought a camera along and will share with you some of what I see every day:

Doubtless, these photos (and, by extension, this blog) will help me remember much of what has happened this year. It's a curious thing, memory. There have been countless studies done on how people retain memories, a very recent one picked up as a topic on NPR's Talk of the Nation about our earliest memories: why do young children remember things from very early in life, yet as we age, we forget most of what happened to us before the age of four? Here is the article that accompanied the program on NPR's website.

Since I can get streaming radio on my computer, some of the copious free time I've recently been blessed to have (seeing as it is now summer vacation for me) has been eaten up by my "catching up" on certain things I miss from America. Including, yes, NPR programming. 

The show (as well as the transcript) was quite interesting. The expert brought in said that several memories of early life are attached to emotions. If a person experiences a strong emotion during an event, he or she is more likely to remember not only the event, but more details of the event as well. The most powerful emotions are often fear or anger (dangerous situations and arguments are easier to remember than calm or happy situations) as are shocking or new situations. This made me think about my own earliest memories, one that involves the German language, actually. 

I remember as a very young child watching news footage of the Berlin Wall being torn down. I was two, almost three, most likely watching the evening news with my parents. I remember the television we had at the time, an old analog dial set that fit snugly within the shelves of our entertainment system, next to my dad's record player and enormous white speakers. It's been a tradition in my family ever since I can remember to watch the news together at 6pm, huddled around the TV in the living room. And before the advent of cable, this was even easier - fewer channels, and less crap to watch. We did eventually get cable, but that was long after I had started elementary school.  

calf put out to pasture

I remember images bursting onto the screen, the ones that have become stock footage now - people in the dark mounting the wall, taking sledge hammers to the side, East Germans walking triumphantly past guards, waving at the cameras. My parents sat in shock, probably in disbelief. Watching these images, they knew that the Cold War - and ideological terror of the "other" that had existed since before they we both born, mounted in bomb scares, fears of traveling abroad, the destruction of "the American way of life," that had urged hate and conspiracy and espionage - would soon be over. 

And it happened overnight, quickly and without warning. That is why my parents sat shocked. I'm sure they discussed it afterward. This would change the way they viewed the world. the way millions of people viewed the world. And this was the era before the 24-hour news network, before streaming video and internet and chat rooms and information all the time, anywhere and everywhere at the click of a mouse. They could read more in the papers the next morning, watch the news again the next evening, when the reporters had submitted new information. They had to wait - they may have waited on tenterhooks. 

cow (mommy)

Although I, a child, could not contribute meaningfully to a conversation about international affairs, the collective breath of the world expelling what it had been holding back for over 40 years, I understood that something important had happened. Berlin. I remembered the name. It held weight for me. When I was older, old enough to look up things in an encyclopedia (we had a set in the house, circa 1992) I discovered many things (now all outdated) about Berlin: it was a city, divided, the new capital of a reunited Germany.

I feel that this experience grounded my interest in the German language, in Germany, in Berlin.  I wanted to see for myself what sort of a city this was, what happened there, how people lived. It seemed like a city with a fantastic history, a place making history, alive, being shaped, becoming renewed. As a teenager, exposure to the stories of Christopher Isherwood and Cabaret and pop culture like Nena, propelled my interest in learning German. Of course, these were not my only reasons, but more to add to my list. I had already taken French, and wished to continue. To pick up a second foreign language, I had the choice between German or Spanish, and (as I've heard from many other students of German) the odds were against Spanish, mainly because it was seen as the lesser of all the offered foreign languages (all the dumb kids took it). This is, of course, unfair to the Spanish language, beautiful in its own way; I have grown fond of Spanish after having learned it - given it a chance.

preparations for Sonnenwende (Midsummer's Night)

German, anyway, and French, were my chosen university majors. These choices allowed me to study abroad. And where did I choose? Berlin, of course. I was not disappointed. I fell in love with the city a bit, I think. I still have fond memories of my time there. The city was alive, changing, making history. Vibrant. Charming. Magnificent. A big city, but not too big, like London, or too seedy, like L.A. Plenty of history, but still plenty of future, too. 

I point to this earliest of memories, watching the news with my parents as a toddler, to be part of the reason I am here now, in Austria, continuing to learn German. Continuing to be fascinated by the German language, by the history and culture of Central Europe. There are so many things that could be said about how destinies are shaped. Some say it is purely the past which determines the future. Others say the past is only and example to be learned from. I would argue that memories, being an exquisite form, a representation of the past controlled and controllable by the possessor of said memory, are the greatest tool in shaping one's destiny, if past and future being in equal parts relevant help us determine who we are. Or who we shall become.

train tracks

Que Sera, sera*; or, a Few of My Favorite Things** about Austria

"The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time."
 - Abraham Lincoln

Yes, it's that time again - time to freak out about where my life is going. It's become one of my special talents, and now I'd like to share it with you. Or, at least, share the news I've got. Next year, I will be staying in Austria, as the Fulbright Commission has renewed my contract. In Austria, you are allowed to ask for an extension of your teaching assistantship (other countries only allow one year per Fulbright grant), and I have done just that. For the time being, it looks like I will be in Amstetten again next year. In the meantime, this summer I will be working at a camp in Zell am See, which is near Salzburg.

This is both an exiting thing and a thing that makes me nervous. First, it is good, because I will be able to strengthen relationships I have made here, most importantly with my schools, and also with the friends I have made and even with the landscape itself. Amstetten doesn't lend itself to poetic rhapsodizing exactly, but I have enjoyed my time here, and, as my mother tells me, traveling to the big city of Vienna for the weekend is a definite improvement over traveling to the "big city" of Sioux Falls for the weekend, which is what she did at my age (her first teaching job was in a town of 1000 people in western Minnesota). What makes me nervous is that after this year I don't know what I'll be doing. I will be 25 years old at the end of next school year - which seemed impossibly old to me when I graduated from high school, and in some ways still seems old to me.

I had hoped while in Austria to improve my German. Although I have learned many things about Austria, Austrians and Austrian culture, I don't think I can speak German any better than I could when I got here. I suppose I could come to one of these conclusions: a) I need a formal setting to learn anything, b) I only think I need a formal setting to learn anything, which is actually keeping me from learning anything, c) I will never truly get the hang of Austrian German and - a nod to the American stereotype - I don't need to because everyone speaks English here anyway, or d) another year is all I need to perfect my German.

Having now spent the past seven months here in Austria, I'd like to take the time to consider my experiences, and prepare myself for the months ahead, to hopefully continue enjoying Austria, and the things it has to offer.

Here is a list I've thought about - and compiled, obviously, - which expresses what I like about Austria:

1. The Countryside: on my daily walk around Amstetten, most recently since the weather has become nicer, I've had the chance to see some beautiful scenery - the river Ybbs, wildlife on the Nautrerlebnispfad (sometimes just squirrels and ducks, if they count). Farm fields within the city limits and I mean livestock, too! Sheep AND cows. On my walk I often see a cow and her calf out to pasture less than a kilometer from the hospital. Scoff if you'd like, but I have never in my life see something like this, not even in Wisconsin! Livestock within the city limits simply doesn't happen (health codes and all)...

2. Fresh food. Like much of the rest of Europe, Austria offers many delicious options for fresh, local produce, honey and dairy products (that's the benefit of having cows in the middle of town, perhaps?) and although many basic products are more expensive than they would be in the USA, organic products are not only more abundant in Austria, but also less expensive than organic products in the USA. And, the price difference between organic and regular products in Austria is smaller than in the USA (for example, the difference between regular milk and organic milk per liter is 5 cents, rather than 20 cents, i.e. a gallon of regular fresh milk in Austria is about $5.26; a gallon of fresh organic milk is roughly $5.55...to compare averages, a gallon of fresh regular milk in the USA is about $3.79; a gallon of fresh organic milk is just over $6).

3. Having pride in one's work, and the abundance of handmade articles, hobbies devoted to do-it-yourself, etc. I find it quite admirable that so many Austrians knit, sew their own clothing, garden - and produce the food they eat by themselves - and build their own houses. Also, the importance of family in Austria. I was surprised to discover how many of my students live with their grandparents. That is, in the same house, three and sometimes four generations under one roof! They reassured me that it's often the case to have two to three households in one house, though. Mom and Dad will live on the bottom floor while Grandma and Grandpa live on top. Everyone does their own thing, but gets together for dinner, church, and so forth. When the houses get too small to hold everyone, they build additions on! This is something that happened in America during the pioneer days, but I doubt whether most Americans would willingly live in their parents' homes for extended periods of time after they got married...like, for the rest of their lives. Owning one's own home, car, etc., buying the "best" and "newest" and being able to flaunt each of these things to your neighbor is something Americans not only enjoy doing, they also sort of expect this, not as a privilege, but as a right of passage. Independence can be a wonderful thing, but it can also be isolating and stressful, and unnecessarily so.

4. The Mountains. Although I live in the Alpenvorland and not the actual Alpine region, there are a few hills in Amstetten. Since going to the actual Alps on the school ski trip, and discovering how incredibly breathtaking they are, I've decided that I really, really love mountainous areas. I like them so much that I would probably choose to live in a mountainous landscape over many other landscapes. One of the reasons I look forward to a second year in Austria is to get out into the Alps more, something I'll be able to do quite easily this summer when I work in Zell am See.

5. Being able to speak German every day, of course! Although, I do speak a lot more English than I am accustomed to doing in a foreign (non-English speaking) country. And more than I really should, especially outside of class. But sometimes I feel like my teacher personality comes out, and to help the students improve their English, I can't help but keep my German to myself. But then again, maybe this is just and excuse.

As for next year, it will be in many respects the continuation of this year. Less abrupt and defined than my year abroad, which saw me go to Germany and France. Here, I find nothing hemming me in (such as a looming bachelor's degree), or any expectation beyond what I expect of myself. Of course, two years of "bumming around Europe" is probably enough for me before I enter the so-called "real world" (by the way, I would consider both terms cliche, and culpable in undermining the spirit of youth and discovery - unless you are literally doing nothing. I, thank God, am doing something, rather than nothing, in Europe).

Who knows what the future will hold? I guess I'll just have to take it one day at a time.


*Song made famous by Doris Day, who sang it in Hitchcock's The Man Who Knew Too Much
**Song made famous by Julie Andrews, who sung it in every Austrian's favorite***, The Sound of Music
***Just kidding! Ironically, most Austrians I have talked to do not actually like, or have never seen, The Sound of Music

Is the World Spinning, or Is It Just Me?

The other night, I had some very strange dreams. Although I often have strange dreams, I feel that I rarely remember them now unless they are truely bizarre. This one dream was about refugees, firing into glass houses, young people paralyzed, with legs amputated below the knee. Another involved the fat lady from MTV's 90's classic show Daria - don't ask me why.

Perhaps I've been worrying about the anti-union bill running around the Wisconsin senate. Or perhaps the Dalai Lama retiring has put my nerves on edge. Or the crisis in Libya - amid prior crises in Tunisia and Egypt - which doesn't seem to be getting better, although its North African neighbors seem to be adjusting more easily each day. Not to mention the triple whammy going on in Japan right now.

Yet another pinpoint of globalization is the fact that I can watch Jon Stewart in Austria, read up on American pop culture and bring in articles from the New York Times for my classes. Bananas from Ecuador in the local Penny Markt, MADE IN CHINA written somewhere on 3/4 of what I own, and who's to say it's stopping there? Is it a good thing to get what you want at as cheap a price as you can by undercutting the rights of everyone else in the world? Is this hell, or are we still in the hand basket?

I guess I need some cheering up. 2012: 9 months and counting.

I Want to Make an Impact

I've decided my blog needs some spice.

Does anybody really care what I have to say?

Do people who blog about their families, children, etc., ever fear that some pedophile is going to stumble upon said blog and stalk their children?

Do religious fanatics who preach the "word of God" ever have second thoughts after they post?

Do wannabe writers, music bloggers and other artsy-fartsy types ever think they will actually be discovered if they're persistent enough and post regularly?

Can the internet cure the ills of society, or has it already contributed enough (too much?) to the downfall of civilization as we know it? And, follow-up question, if we're going to hell in a hand basket, how come it's taking so long? Can we stop for a potty break?

Why are Americans so obsessed with body odor? Sure, some people are so smelly they're offensive. But doesn't a little b.o. remind us that we're all human? Maybe that's just me.

"Hey, Vanessa - No, Not You. The Other One"

I'm one of those people who grew up with relatively few people sharing my name.

Unlike all the "Sarahs" and "Katies" and "Emilys" etc., etc. I spent the first seven years of school never running into another Vanessa. This made me feel special. And unique. And, ultimately, superior.

Much as I hate to admit it now, I was  - for better or worse - possessive of my name. When I met my first "other" Vanessa in 7th grade, I was a bit taken aback. And uninterested in being friends with her. Because she stole my name.

Now, I have been over this stupid complex for quite a while. I bump into other Vanessas now and then...but none more than in Europe. Although the name "Vanessa" has been in the top 100 baby name list in the USA since the 1970s, it seems as if Wisconsinites prefer to give their daughters different names - like variations on Catherine (Katherine, Catrina/Katrina, Katie, Caitlin, Katelyn, etc., ad nauseum) as an example.

However, I think - in general - the name Vanessa is a more popular one in Europe. Why do I say this? I keep bumping into other people with my name. Not that I mind, or anything. But it does lead to some confusion. Especially, as the English assistant, I hear my name being called by students all the time - for help, to answer a question, and so forth. But more often than not, that, "Hey, Vanessa!" I hear in the hallway is intended for another student.

The time has come to shrug it off. Or, perhaps ask myself - who am I, really?