tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117354962011-07-07T19:54:15.776-04:00Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.comBlogger601100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-29288889717948509432009-10-11T08:44:00.002-04:002009-10-11T09:09:51.906-04:00

My dad was no ordinary dad. Every time when I was in a summer camp or on a school trip or otherwise removed from home, he would therefore write no ordinary letters. Instead, they were crossword puzzles, code language, letters written in a mirror font backwards (one had to read them in a mirror), letters that had to be assembled among a few people, etc. For birthdays and Christmas I got no

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-25790036445381910882008-10-04T14:46:00.006-04:002008-10-04T19:33:47.722-04:00

There are higher powers. Indeed there are, and they are trying their damnedest to send us signs when we are supposed to do something, and especially when we are NOT supposed to do something. Sometimes they are beating us on our dumb skulls with the signs and we tank right on ahead, dull-eyed empty-headed muttons that we are.I was running late. As always. I was also sickly, but no matter. This

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-61897206261289049262008-09-22T17:05:00.003-04:002008-09-22T18:19:22.949-04:00

...but it really doesn't matter at all...no it really doesn't matter at all.....Life's a gas!Well, that's Replacements, now stuck in my head semi-permanently, for good reason probably. It really does not matter at all... I could have loved Cambridge like a planet, and I did, I did. But I picked up my room and plopped it into The Hague. When I look around, it looks almost the same, the same laptop

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-56125302090351305012008-07-25T23:59:00.004-04:002008-07-26T00:34:13.159-04:00

Well, except my jewelry. I mean, it does come from all over the world... and the board I made for my earrings to hang off of. That's a piece of art, really. Gradma's head scarf is the background for it, can't leave that behind. Nor five boxes worth of books or a trillion suitcases worth of clothing, every last piece of a deep sentimental value, of course.....This is not gonna be easy.I'm moving

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-47309680936341187102008-07-09T13:13:00.004-04:002008-07-10T14:26:36.463-04:00

And I sure hope so! Shouldn't that be a good thing? All downhill from now, weeeeee!Anyway, so many expressions have almost the opposite meaning than they logically should have."It's all but done".... Well, my imagination suggests that it was left alone, swept under the rug, delegated to someone else who died a sudden and gruesome death... it suggests many things except for "it's almost done".And

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-32538811577802559932008-06-21T18:03:00.002-04:002008-06-21T18:49:02.774-04:00

I walk in, a little tense, and close the door. Make sure it's closed all the way. I climb up two steps and sit down."I'm just gonna relax," I say to myself.But I know it's coming. Oh I know it's coming!"Don't be silly, you know it's perfectly harmless! It's good for you, actually!"Yes I know, but I don't really care to be all that rational right now. It's coming, it's coming!I pull my knees to my

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-44454306132147066072008-05-18T10:54:00.010-04:002008-06-08T01:14:07.113-04:00

I just accepted a job offer in The Hague. I am as excited as The Happy Goat (surely a bad omen). I was offered at a conference in Bristol. It's the closing dinner and some silly dancing with new to-be-colleagues. With a suitcase in hand, I rush to catch the 10:30pm train from Bristol to London, Paddington. Still in high heels, dressed up from closing dinner, I put the suitcase on a luggage rack

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-2729121600535366722008-05-14T16:07:00.003-04:002008-05-14T22:36:42.560-04:00

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-32724238568964482782008-05-13T10:40:00.003-04:002008-05-14T23:12:49.193-04:00

Ovid notes that at this festival it was the custom to appease or expel the evil spirits by walking barefoot and throwing black beans over the shoulder at night. It was the head of the household who was responsible for getting up at midnight and walking around the house with bare feet throwing out black beans and repeating the incantation, "With these beans I redeem me and mine" nine times. The

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-34818890529625645222008-05-12T15:18:00.001-04:002008-05-12T15:20:06.276-04:00

Another repost, as I have been treacherously blogging elsewhere for some time... Hyderabad, 2007I am attempting to upload something to my work website for umpteenth time, when electricity goes out again. I should have known. It's 4pm, it happens at around that time every day. Everything you're working on is guzzled by the

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-45092497811199189242008-05-12T14:53:00.001-04:002008-05-12T15:02:09.926-04:00

Repost from elsewhere... It is hard to leave New York. I was determined to get on the bus at 6pm. But spending the afternoon at MoMa with Michaela, I lingered. From 6 became 7, then we made dinner out of it, with more friends. Finally I got to Port Authority at 10pm, joining the red, white, and blue snake of people

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-72565009091785736232008-05-09T12:39:00.007-04:002008-05-10T12:02:04.704-04:00

I am a Good Skier. Always have been. Why, I skied before I walked.That is why I was determined to get some skiing in this winter, even if I go alone. I signed up with Boston Ski and Sports Club, and off I went to Sunday River.On the Day D, I took a cab to the bus. I was as excited as the Happy Goat from the proverbial Slovak fable that went dancing on ice.This Happy Goat loves steep and loves

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-31046997282742772912008-05-08T13:45:00.005-04:002008-05-08T14:24:08.700-04:00

I tried them all. Just as other cyber adolescents, I was lured by the new hip kids on the block. My love affairs with myspace and facebook were much like the real life ones. Hot, passionate, all consuming, devoted, unconditional, and.....short-lived. Leaving behind a taste of annoyance, obscure hurried shame, disappointment, and that nihilism feeling that nothing really matters as we all muddle

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1155510209876469002006-08-13T19:02:00.001-04:002008-05-10T12:02:50.619-04:00

August 13, 2006.I am sitting on a train, on the way to Newark to catch my flight to Delhi. I am typing up a training manual for young business school students who are involved in a student group studying causes of communal violence and prevention of open conflict. My mind is stuck in an analytical mode. It’s a lot of ‘how tos’ ‘what to do whens’… While writing, I noticed a guy across the isle and

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1155438199810048522006-08-12T22:02:00.001-04:002008-05-10T12:03:28.869-04:00

Movie. Must watch a movie. Have a beer. Sit down.How do people do it? Shanti was telling me yesterday that she usually packs within half an hour. I started at 11am. It's 10pm now and I just closed the suitcase. I can say proudly that it is at least 1/2 empty, though for fairness' sake, I need to add that it's a monster of a suitcase. But it's the only one where the two giant paper rolls I'm

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1151786959966166312006-07-01T16:39:00.000-04:002006-07-01T17:00:18.210-04:00

Cleopatra! the musical has moved to Provincetown. That means that once a week we pack ourselves into cars, curse our way through Boston traffic jams on the way out of town, and then drive for another two hours all the way to the end. These trips sometimes involve getting in touch with Nature. Which may be a problem.Billy and Jimmy have wooden shacks in the woods of Truro, right outside of P-town.

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1150507705375159242006-06-16T21:17:00.000-04:002006-06-16T21:41:42.490-04:00

Strangers that are smiling at each other on the subway are disturbing. I mean come on, it's supposed to be a grumpy, cranky experience. You're not meant to be pleasant to others. That freaks me out. Go get an effin' life!Ex-es that are getting married in a few weeks writing "You've been on my mind a lot lately" are way too disturbing. What am I to do with this piece of information? Stick it in a

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1150344389813360572006-06-14T23:31:00.000-04:002006-06-15T00:10:04.706-04:00

Today I have to resort to drawings. Brain smashed to pieces, arms limb. General happy and stupid feeling. That's how I like it.The Ring is different. Different from Schwarzweiss Boxzentrum, that is. There are many more trainers, and someone is always after you when you work out. There are classes three times a week, which is nothing but an expensive fetish club really. I'm paying $129 a month for

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1149887072018753002006-06-09T16:22:00.000-04:002006-06-09T17:52:44.853-04:00

Take it from me, children. Vanity leads to insanity. Not that insanity is necessarily a bad thing, but there are better things in the world. World peace, for example. Or a cranberry chicken salad.In any case, few weeks back, I received an email from an esteemed professor of an esteemed university in Vienna. He is putting together a book on citizenship policies, and the draft on Slovakia was done

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1149137527934533682006-06-01T00:37:00.000-04:002006-06-01T01:10:02.593-04:00

This is how conversations sometimes go on the very last date... not that I would know of course... Painful at the time, but highly entertaining in retrospect.She: "Hmmm.... you computer boys..."He: "What?"She: [that didn't sound good, did it?...] Oh, it's just... you surprised me..He: "Why?"She: [Shit...couldn't I just have been quiet?] Well, you know, you sit behind a computer all day long, one

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1148279557964182922006-05-22T01:54:00.000-04:002006-05-22T02:47:40.053-04:00

Don't do unto yourself what you wouldn't want your worst enemies do to you! That is the morale of the day, lesson learnt on my own skin, or hair, rather.Today was Sunday. As every Sunday, I resolved to work hard all day to make up for all the procrastination I comitted during the week. I slept until noon, just so as to have plenty of energy for all that hard work ahead. Just as I was about to

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1147928767570916022006-05-18T01:06:00.000-04:002006-05-18T03:42:57.466-04:00

cau dagy, tak skusam pisat. greetings from romania, where i just stayed ina hotel much worse than those we'd stayed in while in morocco. those atleast were clean. this one was dirty and reaked. but i survived.dobre, teraz utekam, papa, sasqua.

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1147809396525334292006-05-16T13:39:00.000-04:002006-05-16T15:56:36.570-04:00

The Velvet Revolution of 1989 was undoubtedly a turning point for Czechoslovakia. After more than four decades the Communist regime finally fell, without any bloodshed or violence. Grand. But what did I know. I was a decade and three years old and if you ask me, the Revolution was the greatest injustice perpetrated on my young life.I was a sheltered child. My parents had all the time in the

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1147726514125014932006-05-15T16:48:00.000-04:002006-05-16T20:58:15.386-04:00

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1147379574472813462006-05-11T15:01:00.000-04:002006-05-11T16:32:55.060-04:00

It's May and it's raining. Love is in the air and everything is breeding, about to breed, or wanting to breed. The bluejay is back on our dogwood tree, singing his lungs out, dogs are tearing off of leashes. Revolting couples are cooeing everywhere around Harvard square, not minding the grumpy rest of us, literally asking to be mowed down with a Kalashnikov...but I digress...Love is in the air.

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1146690097336142152006-05-03T15:39:00.000-04:002006-05-03T17:02:19.760-04:00

My eyelids are irreversibly closing. My stomach still hurts. For the past three days I felt as if I was going into labor. That is highly unlikely, unless I was approached by the Holy Spirit that informed me I'll bear the next prophet, just like Mary did (or told Joseph that's how it happened and he bought it... aaanyway). In case that happened, I must have been drunk. If it did not happen, I

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1145977243641418482006-04-25T10:39:00.000-04:002006-04-25T11:02:38.940-04:00

I emerge from a coma-like deep sleep. Something is huffing into my ear, nibbling on it and slobbering all over my face. I glance at the alarm clock. 4:51am. That would be Tory, the hell-on-wheels puppy. Time to go play with the soccer ball. My eyes are almost sealed shut. I feel fatally exhausted after the last two weeks of nightly rehearsals and the premiere and matinee of Cleopatra! on Friday

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1143316883690466602006-03-25T14:55:00.000-05:002006-03-28T17:53:44.893-05:00

"Thank you for holding, your call is very important to us...."If I hear that one more time, I swear I will explode. On the other hand, I really shouldn't grumble. I am the creator of my misery.How easy one forgets where one comes from. There was a time when I needed visa literally everywhere. They were to keep those pesky Eastern Europeans out of the civilized world. Now that we're fully fledged

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1138376082885077242006-01-27T10:23:00.000-05:002006-01-27T10:39:43.443-05:00

When everything is lonely I can be my own best friendI'll get a coffee and the paper, have my own conversationsI see the sidewalk and the pigeons and my window reflectionThe mask I polish in the evening, by the morning looks like shitAnd I'm not sure what the trouble was, that started all of thisThe reasons all have run away, but the feeling never didIt's not something I would recommend, but it

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1137771805165403792006-01-20T09:11:00.000-05:002006-01-20T10:51:47.810-05:00

Kris was trying out the whole online dating thing. She set up a profile on The Onion (a good pre-screening to eliminate all those with no sense of humor) and was sifting through her emails daily.I was also single at the time and although I would love to say she had to put a knife to my neck and twist my arm, it wasn't quite so. I was curious and willing to try. What harm can it be. It's anonymous

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1137597650804396612006-01-18T09:51:00.000-05:002006-01-18T10:20:50.816-05:00

Nora turned 30 last week. Now that doesn't seem a big deal when one is, say, 50, but from the twenty-something side of things, it is a cause for a pause, if not outright for gloominess. One is expected to be a mature responsible individual and there's nothing glorious and exciting sounding in that. She reserved a whole restaurant, where she had just about 30 friends. Some of us were a high school

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1137425978943658632006-01-16T10:36:00.000-05:002006-01-16T10:40:27.400-05:00

Now I'm hunched over a typewriterI guess you call that paintin' in a caveAnd there's a word I can't rememberand a feeling I cannot escapeAnd now my ashtray's overflowingI'm still staring at a clean white pageOh and morning's at my windowshe is sending me to bed againSo I will find my fears and face themor I will cower like a dogI will kick and scream or kneel and pleadI will fight like hell to

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1135453964373615482005-12-24T14:52:00.000-05:002005-12-24T19:31:57.386-05:00

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1132179345750503182005-11-16T15:57:00.000-05:002005-11-16T17:15:45.826-05:00

Guys at the Boxzentrum are intriguing. They all come from walks of life I have not even been in vicinity of, so far removed from my reality. They're tough street kids, many are from Serbia, Bosnia, or Albania and their life stories sound like jaw-dropping fairy tales to my pampered, spoiled, over-educated self.Goran is one of the advanced boxers. When we, beginners, jump back and forth like a

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1131278404114902642005-11-06T05:50:00.000-05:002005-11-06T09:09:27.206-05:00

It isn't easy to take pictures in the Boxzentrum. Air is moist with sweat (and, like I said, also with testosterone). Camera lens fogs up quickly. Magda and I contribute our part. Johann ruins our bodies and minds in training. I guess he confuses us on purpose. It's a sign of progress. All those technical steps we learned seem useless when he throws new combinations at us and makes us shadow box

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1130946664038879332005-11-02T09:34:00.000-05:002005-11-02T10:51:04.090-05:00

All Saints Day is among the most important events of the year. It's a day when you are supposed to show off in front of your neighbors how you uphold traditions and how you stick together as a family. You have to bring the most flowers and candles to the graves of your deceased relatives, after you have spent hours scrubbing the graves clean the previous weekend. Fun times. I have both sets of

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1130761517781333652005-10-31T06:46:00.000-05:002005-10-31T07:25:17.806-05:00

Even thought the first Czechoslovak Republic was established by the ‘rotten bourgeois capitalists’, the date of its foundation, 28th October was a national holiday that was duly celebrated during communism. After all, bourgeois or not, it was a liberation from Hungarians for the Slovaks, and from the Germans for brothers Czechs. Although the latter were grumbled about for their ‘Pragocentrism’

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1129642931232286192005-10-18T08:58:00.000-04:002005-10-18T09:42:11.276-04:00

People can get used to anything. Even to a noose around their neck, as we clever Slovaks say. The boys at the the boxing club now mostly leave me be as I'm becoming a regular. We're certainly expanding women ranks at the club. There's five of us now. Me, my colleague and convert, whom I talked into joining, Magda from Poland, then a chubby young girl who hangs out mostly at the bar in the club,

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1129035310104034422005-10-11T14:30:00.000-04:002005-10-11T09:09:45.916-04:00

I hate visors. They look silly and they serve no reasonable purpose. They don't even cover the top of your head and sunglasses are always cooler and less cumbersome to shade your eyes from sun than visors. In fact, I wore a visor one and only time in my life.I had a new visor and I had to wear it. Got it from Dave, the base guitarist of the Widespread Panic. My friend Kris, she's tight with a

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1128701212889890442005-10-07T10:56:00.000-04:002005-10-07T13:18:23.856-04:00

Mihaly Dresch quartetI forgot how I love concerts. I avoid going, because there are people there (shocking, truly shocking), it's loud and energy draining, one has to get there, which requires dressing up and makeup.... I also forgot how I love saxophone. I even wanted to play sax when I was fifteen, until I found out how much they cost...Well, last night I remembered both. Mihaly Dresch, the

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1127854136457605632005-09-27T14:48:00.000-04:002005-09-27T16:48:56.493-04:00

You have to accept a thing or two when you are a female and you decide, for whatever strange reasons, to start boxing. I got used to all the winks and smacking sounds as I pass through the gym real quick. After all, I'm trapped in a room where testosterone is oozing out of the walls, and that in Central Europe, where menfolk has not quite yet been subjected to the PC drill. Today I had an

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1127429235242937182005-09-22T18:38:00.000-04:002005-09-22T18:47:15.256-04:00

I met up with Toci who happened to come into town for a conference from Bratislava and decided to go for a dinner and drinks. So we hit the Centimeter 5. - apparently there is a bunch of them. The great thing about it is that they calculate the price of sandwhiches according to their length. In centimeters of course. You can eat one meter spaghetti and a two meter sausage, which we of course had

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1126780852541701492005-09-15T06:10:00.000-04:002005-09-15T11:27:33.683-04:00

We are having a Wiener Schnitzel for lunch at the Institute today. I bloody deserve it. I can barely move, my lower back, shoulders, and quads are shattered. They were wrung out dry. I decided to pick up where I left off at Kostas's Garage of Pain in Jamaica Plains, where I was introduced to the world of boxing briefly. It took me awhile to find a boxing club in Vienna that wouldn't sound too

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1125741650833973772005-09-03T04:43:00.000-04:002005-10-12T05:17:18.806-04:00

Tuesday 16th August, 2005In the morning we head for Kohima bright and early. I say goodbye to my little new antennaed friend, whom I’m happy to see in the bathroom still – that means he’s not in my suitcase. Into jeeps we are stuffed and off we go through winding beaten roads into the hills. Indian Government puts up amusing signs alongside the road: “If married, divorce speed”, “Go slow,

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1125245990778358352005-08-28T12:10:00.000-04:002005-10-12T05:26:16.686-04:00

Indian Diary of a Worldly and Street-smart Traveler II.Friday 12th August.I sit on my little suitcase and for the third time I try to convince the zipper to close. It doesn’t budge. Gore-tex jacket has to go. And a few this and thats, too. Finally everything is trapped inside. Mustn’t accept any gifts or buy anything bigger than a latke, I vow. I don’t know why or where I would get latkes in

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1123189049196836012005-08-04T16:12:00.000-04:002005-08-04T17:41:19.816-04:00

Vienna is not without shortcomings, no. If it were, it would be unbearably perfect. I have learnt that those free open air classical music concerts with food and beer stands happen every night. And there are also open air movie screenings - BYOPicnic. Just like that. Here and there, scattered around the parks of Vienna. Tfoooey! What city behaves like that? Next thing you know they'll have free

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1122979418605487202005-08-02T06:43:00.000-04:002005-08-02T06:43:38.626-04:00

I missed the bus no. 61 AGAIN. Kicking myself in the shin, berating myself for the incorrigible lateness-o-holism. Was it really that crucial to locate the mascara? I wait for good fifteen minutes. I resign to my fate and start looking around. It is the first time that I have the opportunity to evaluate the progress of my fellow countrypersons in a year. Got home just last Thursday, but other

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1118019557742731872005-06-05T20:38:00.000-04:002005-06-05T21:07:42.396-04:00

Sometimes time stops and life concentrates into a perfect moment. Phone can ring itself off the hook, eggs can burn into shriveled pieces of charcoal, boss can be upset about missing a deadline... Nothing matters. Sometimes it is enough to warm up in the sun, soak all of its incredible energy through hungry, winter-starved pores of your skin and lean your head on a shoulder of a beautiful

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1115447510771098222005-05-07T01:40:00.000-04:002005-05-07T10:31:07.313-04:00

I am getting the hang of it. I really am. I am not disturbed to wake up alone to an empty apartment, to make coffee for myself, to read the paper in a heaven-sent silence, to hop around to music that I please to choose, even if it's, god forbid, the Prince or Fatboy Slim. I adore working on my own hours, getting to the office in the afternoon and staying until everyone sane is asleep. I enjoy

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1114404983100747492005-04-24T23:46:00.000-04:002005-04-25T01:36:54.536-04:00

A bizarro, bizarro weekend behind me. Well, technically there are thirteen more minutes left of it ahead of me, but as I don't intend to move a goddamn inch, I consider it a done deal. I attribute the whole atmosphere to the Being John Malkovich movie I watched with Talmadge on Friday. The secretary in the movie does not understand a single word of anything spoken at her and claims everybody has

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1114190094331667952005-04-22T13:03:00.000-04:002005-04-22T13:14:54.333-04:00

i have just received a letter. it was a letter sent out by my very self. it was address-less, except for a sticker with my return address.yesterday i attempted to put a heap of newspapers and magazines into refrigerator. you know, to recycle them. naturally. we went shopping recently and they wouldn't fit.every morning i fill up my water bottle, and every single morning i leave it right there on

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1113340615530891152005-04-12T17:11:00.000-04:002005-04-12T17:16:55.533-04:00

I was absolutely stunned and fascinated by a short piece of news from Hungary this morning: Huns are seeking recongnition from the Hungarian Parliament. "Say what? What the hell is going on?!" was my initial gut reaction as I sprang to my feet. I am utterly confused. There is virtually no way of tracing anyone's origins to before the year 500AD in Hungary, chronicles and records were not

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1113083192114123982005-04-09T17:29:00.000-04:002005-04-09T17:46:32.116-04:00

Second long bike ride of the year. I climbed up the 'curse at the map-maker hill' in one go. Ha! I did, however also knock off a six year old off his bicycle. He made a gracious half a circle in the air, almost in slow motion. Then his little body plopped on the grass. He was unharmed, just startled. He looked at me as if I was the Devil impersonated, with clouds of fire and smoke behind me,

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1113019491341422492005-04-09T00:03:00.000-04:002005-04-09T00:04:51.343-04:00

I can now climb the mother hill on my street with four beers and a hamburger in my belly on my bicycle. Hellz yeah!

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1112846098775201112005-04-06T23:54:00.000-04:002005-04-07T03:43:18.366-04:00

Today I have witnessed a rare event, a miracle even. Harvard University students, mostly from Kennedy School of Government, awoke from slumber and instead of thinking what kind of a juicy position will they land after they graduate, they put their energy behind organizing to stop genocide in Darfur. As a result of their pressure Harvard University today divested from PetroChina, whose parent

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1112719829758824692005-04-05T12:17:00.000-04:002005-04-05T12:51:30.956-04:00

Zimbabwe had its parliamentary election results announced yesterday. I find it mind boggling, that ZANU-PF, party that denies an ongoing famine,refuses foreign aid and lets people starve instead,denies access to free press, blackmails and tortures its population into obediance, and is ruled by a tyrant, should win overwhelmingly. Mugabe is among the last of the freedom fighters - turned

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1112338818382347002005-04-01T00:34:00.001-05:002005-04-01T14:59:34.163-05:00

I am and always have been a liberal. In a European sense. I like riGhts. RiGhts of all sorts. Especially human riGhts. But we liberals don't stop tHere. We extend tHem to animals, enviroNment, perhaps even roCks and hay. But tHat is not my main concern right now.My concern is quite particular.I came to tHis fair land some five years ago. Before tHat I have studied tHis fair language for 15 years.

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1112084823491189432005-03-29T02:50:00.000-05:002005-04-01T15:49:22.803-05:00

My friend Joe revered about the mystery of some shapes grabbing our attention among the sea of shapes that flood our vision every moment of the day. I know that when I look for my keys (a climactic and thrilling adventure taking place daily between the walls of my room, occasionally also in the kitchen and living room) I notice an odd sock that was so dearly missed after last batch of laundry,

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1111979549072835432005-03-27T22:12:00.000-05:002005-03-27T22:22:28.696-05:00

Well...they tell me I can post to my own blog this way, emailing from my own email account. Ha. I wonder if that is the truth. It would be neat if that was the truth. Not that it matters much. As someone once noted, truth is objective. Stripped of anything personal, anything subjective. Why the heck care about it then? And it does not even involve bacon, chocolate, or Simple Green. Godspeed, and

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11735496.post-1111960957161561482005-03-27T16:56:00.000-05:002005-03-27T17:41:15.250-05:00

.Saturday Feb. 19, 2005My parents drop me off at the South Station. Feeling guilty sure helps - I tried to be as good as honey during this past week that they visited me in Boston. Remnants of my difficult puberty, I suppose – I always get grumpy and snappy at my parents for no good reason being around them for just a few hours. Not this week. Although I lodged them in style at Tunie’s mansion on

Dagmarakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15390853542477514992noreply@blogger.com3