I have found the coolest stuff through Ancestry.com. First of all, the Library has a subscription so I can get the cool stuff I couldn't afford before. I found the manifest from Grampa's arrival at Elsi Island, a photo of the ship that brought him, Great Grampa's first name. And... I found that Gerbstadt was a city state name given to a family that rose to noble ranks, giving them the privilege of a coat of arms. I almost have the Wappenbuch translation completed. I am hung up on a few things that are colloquialisms or compound words which don't have the same meaning in this age as they did then.
This is very cool and exciting. It may be time to create a new blog. Oh... Lauenstein also has two crests. The one that looks like the emblem on a communion wafer i knew about. the other I didn't. It turns out the Lauenstein's came out of the Gerbstadts becoming nobles. At least if I have translated this correctly.
yes, geek has to learn about heraldry now. Fortunately I have always been fascinated by armour and pennants and such.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
little things mean alot
However they should never mean everything.
I've known this for a while, especially in connection with my mom. But there are times when the hard reality is so blatant that it must be acknowledged. So in the spirit of soul-baring I shall relate to you an example in which I fail a critical tactical throw that my Grampa endorsed: challenge authority.
My mother was beautiful in her twenties and thirties. She was a bit gangly as a youth but grew into a beautiful woman. I don't know when that changed but when I was in school, she was compared to a Hag which I could not disagree with. Part of her personal identity was a ring that she always wore, almost in place of her wedding band. She definitely showed it more deference than her wedding band. Anyway, the story she tells is that she got the ring as a Sweet 16 gift from Grampa and Gramma Ada. It fit perfectly at 16. It was her way to measure something which to this day I am not clear on. It was either her weight or her attractiveness.
The ring is stamped 9-10K pounds sterling. No matter how one views it the silver settings form a backwards "S". In the bowls of the S are two amethysts of an oval cut. The center is set with 9 diamonds. it is a size 5.5 or 6. When I noticed it as a young girl and thought that if being a girl meant you could were pretty things like that then I might not mind being a girl. I mentioned one day that I would like a similar ring. I might have been 12.
My mother's response was to tell me the about how special she felt to have received such a gift. This ring meant more to her than it probably should have. But I took the story for what she said it was. It was one of the last expensive things Grampa bought for mom. At 16 she was a woman and the ring was her adulthood present. I suspect it was Grampa and Gramma's way of getting a bat mitzvah gift in without exposing themselves. Anyway, it was mom's symbol of womanhood and femininity. So when I noticed it and tried to connect with her through the ring she laughed me off. I was fairly persistent for two years. Finally, in front of my sleepover friends who loved the ring as well, she made me try it on. Then she mocked me that it wouldn't fit. I was 14 and it wouldn't go passed the first knuckle on my index finger, let alone fit the ring finger. She told me that when I was small enough to wear it I could have it but that she would be dead before that would ever happen.
She was right. As I type this it is on my sinister index finger, hung up on the first knuckle. She has been dead for 13 years. Today I went to a jeweler and tried to sell it for cash. It is worth 20.00. 19.11 to be exact. But 20.00. The two large purple stones are synthetic Alexandrite. The 9 small white chips are white sapphires not totaling even a .25 karat. It is sterling. My mother spent so much time focusing on its monetary value with a secondary influence on her sentiments that all these years I have seen it as a measure of my own worth. It was her way of reminding me I was "Too fat to be attractive to anyone."; "Too ugly to waste time and money teaching me about makeup and buying current clothes"; and that I was the most irresponsible person in the world because I could not refrain from reaching into the candy dish. [SIDEBAR: she bought the crystal candy dish after I decided to be careful about food choices. She bought it with a lid so she could hear the pinging from the crystal pieces meeting. After I gave up on trying to lose weight she didn't keep the dish full anymore. I have to admit... she challenged my inner Holmes. It became a game to get the candy without getting caught. I am more a lab rat than Brain. Poit!]
Then when we tried to negotiate my class ring she reneged on her agreement so I never got a ring. Her logic was that I was just going to keep growing and the ring wouldn't fit after a year anyway. So she didn't waste her money again.
So today, after learning that there was no more value in her measure-ring than there is in any of the semi precious stone rings I have bought on my own... I was able to see things so much more clearly. In accepting my mother's assertions for facts and her facts being as erroneous as her ability to know good yard sale junk from regular yard sale junk (none of what she termed "valuable antiques" have had much value at all) I have held beliefs about myself that are in error as well.
It is just a cheap ring. Her initial feelings connected to it are important as they were from a place of love and esteem. But what the ring symbolizes for me is as cheap a sentiment as the materials that compose the ring. And here is my point. Just because our parents say something doesn't make it true. Just because our friends tell us something does not make it true. I valued my mom as a parents whose love I strove to attain so she had a great deal of influence in my self image. I held a great deal of stock in the Liar's opinions because she had been my best friend for a long time; and on the surface, she seemed to contradict mom's obvious manipulations. As persons of value and trust they were able to do much damage. So, my Friends, I say that we have to question.
In having the truth from the jeweler about the Ring's real value I have the tools to fight what voices of hers remain in my head. Nay, those voices are already gone. I have the concrete proof that we take from the previous generation all of their garbage if we do not question. And, in my case, not just that those are horrible things to say to child of any age. But that the real crime is that I allowed myself to be enslaved for so long. Had I taken this to a jeweler sooner, she could not have affected me for so long. I do of course take it as a good sign that not only have I confronted the pain of the past through contacts among my classmates, but now have this to finally silence my mom. I consider this an auspicious sign inasmuch as I was finally ready to confront issues head on. This gives me some strength to confront other issues, my brother and sister and my own inner critic. There is a small version of me that sounds so much like mom that I have been thinking it was her. It isn't. It's mini me, trying to be the adult her mother exemplifies. it's time to put that little girl in a chair and give her a good talking to.
I've known this for a while, especially in connection with my mom. But there are times when the hard reality is so blatant that it must be acknowledged. So in the spirit of soul-baring I shall relate to you an example in which I fail a critical tactical throw that my Grampa endorsed: challenge authority.
My mother was beautiful in her twenties and thirties. She was a bit gangly as a youth but grew into a beautiful woman. I don't know when that changed but when I was in school, she was compared to a Hag which I could not disagree with. Part of her personal identity was a ring that she always wore, almost in place of her wedding band. She definitely showed it more deference than her wedding band. Anyway, the story she tells is that she got the ring as a Sweet 16 gift from Grampa and Gramma Ada. It fit perfectly at 16. It was her way to measure something which to this day I am not clear on. It was either her weight or her attractiveness.
The ring is stamped 9-10K pounds sterling. No matter how one views it the silver settings form a backwards "S". In the bowls of the S are two amethysts of an oval cut. The center is set with 9 diamonds. it is a size 5.5 or 6. When I noticed it as a young girl and thought that if being a girl meant you could were pretty things like that then I might not mind being a girl. I mentioned one day that I would like a similar ring. I might have been 12.
My mother's response was to tell me the about how special she felt to have received such a gift. This ring meant more to her than it probably should have. But I took the story for what she said it was. It was one of the last expensive things Grampa bought for mom. At 16 she was a woman and the ring was her adulthood present. I suspect it was Grampa and Gramma's way of getting a bat mitzvah gift in without exposing themselves. Anyway, it was mom's symbol of womanhood and femininity. So when I noticed it and tried to connect with her through the ring she laughed me off. I was fairly persistent for two years. Finally, in front of my sleepover friends who loved the ring as well, she made me try it on. Then she mocked me that it wouldn't fit. I was 14 and it wouldn't go passed the first knuckle on my index finger, let alone fit the ring finger. She told me that when I was small enough to wear it I could have it but that she would be dead before that would ever happen.
She was right. As I type this it is on my sinister index finger, hung up on the first knuckle. She has been dead for 13 years. Today I went to a jeweler and tried to sell it for cash. It is worth 20.00. 19.11 to be exact. But 20.00. The two large purple stones are synthetic Alexandrite. The 9 small white chips are white sapphires not totaling even a .25 karat. It is sterling. My mother spent so much time focusing on its monetary value with a secondary influence on her sentiments that all these years I have seen it as a measure of my own worth. It was her way of reminding me I was "Too fat to be attractive to anyone."; "Too ugly to waste time and money teaching me about makeup and buying current clothes"; and that I was the most irresponsible person in the world because I could not refrain from reaching into the candy dish. [SIDEBAR: she bought the crystal candy dish after I decided to be careful about food choices. She bought it with a lid so she could hear the pinging from the crystal pieces meeting. After I gave up on trying to lose weight she didn't keep the dish full anymore. I have to admit... she challenged my inner Holmes. It became a game to get the candy without getting caught. I am more a lab rat than Brain. Poit!]
Then when we tried to negotiate my class ring she reneged on her agreement so I never got a ring. Her logic was that I was just going to keep growing and the ring wouldn't fit after a year anyway. So she didn't waste her money again.
So today, after learning that there was no more value in her measure-ring than there is in any of the semi precious stone rings I have bought on my own... I was able to see things so much more clearly. In accepting my mother's assertions for facts and her facts being as erroneous as her ability to know good yard sale junk from regular yard sale junk (none of what she termed "valuable antiques" have had much value at all) I have held beliefs about myself that are in error as well.
It is just a cheap ring. Her initial feelings connected to it are important as they were from a place of love and esteem. But what the ring symbolizes for me is as cheap a sentiment as the materials that compose the ring. And here is my point. Just because our parents say something doesn't make it true. Just because our friends tell us something does not make it true. I valued my mom as a parents whose love I strove to attain so she had a great deal of influence in my self image. I held a great deal of stock in the Liar's opinions because she had been my best friend for a long time; and on the surface, she seemed to contradict mom's obvious manipulations. As persons of value and trust they were able to do much damage. So, my Friends, I say that we have to question.
In having the truth from the jeweler about the Ring's real value I have the tools to fight what voices of hers remain in my head. Nay, those voices are already gone. I have the concrete proof that we take from the previous generation all of their garbage if we do not question. And, in my case, not just that those are horrible things to say to child of any age. But that the real crime is that I allowed myself to be enslaved for so long. Had I taken this to a jeweler sooner, she could not have affected me for so long. I do of course take it as a good sign that not only have I confronted the pain of the past through contacts among my classmates, but now have this to finally silence my mom. I consider this an auspicious sign inasmuch as I was finally ready to confront issues head on. This gives me some strength to confront other issues, my brother and sister and my own inner critic. There is a small version of me that sounds so much like mom that I have been thinking it was her. It isn't. It's mini me, trying to be the adult her mother exemplifies. it's time to put that little girl in a chair and give her a good talking to.
Monday, October 6, 2008
what is it about Jewish guys?
I've met four Jewish guys. They are passionate about what they believe. Each of them has a black and white, all or nothing, point of view. ACG is a "you are or you aren't" conservative. The engineer that I haven't written much about was great company, right up until the conversation went toward the mystical. He thought I was smart, smarter than he initially thought, but I am dangerous because of my mystic tendencies. But he thought that we would be a good match because we shared some physical traits. The NYC guy seems to want to go out but his hang ups prevent him. He will not change his mind for any reason. And now there is the guy in MA.
MA has a one track mind. I'm on that track. I am that track.
I only know what is in his profile, which is all wonderful. But after two conversations he is in love and has planned the honeymoon. I accept this because I have seen from these guys on this site that once they know what they want, once they believe something they have no ambivalence like my silly aquarian self. I still wish that I had more an emotional connection to him than I do. I want to know more about his life... I don't need to know what he is thinking all of the time. But I do need to feel that mind connection. Residue from my Vulcan studies? Maybe. But girls are like that. Shoot, I went to school with He Who for ten years before I noticed him. And then it took a common interest in a character in a set of books he told me I wouldn't like because I am a girl. And that guy in MQT, that wasn't immediate. As a matter of fact, he scared me for the first few days that we worked together. i need to connect with him more.
It is very easy to listen to his professions of love. And I want so much to belong to someone. But I still want to be myself and I want him to be himself. I have a suspicion that I could be co opted for that Stepford collective if I'm not careful. I also think that could be a deal breaker for him. I don't want to be anyone but me and I don't think he knows enough about me beyond my looks.
And I grant you, I posted a very flattering picture which disguises my rosacae and hides my herniated bulge. But he says I am gorgeous... all the time. Yes, thanks for asking, he does have glasses. No, I doubt he needs to up his script.
On the upside, when I hear his voice, my chakras get all whirly and light. My body feels light and I have this overwhelming sense of peace. So in that sense he is perfect. I haven't seen his picture so I can't read his eyes. That I think is holding me up. I've loved people's profiles enough to contact them to be friends. But without a good vibe from the soul that is reflected in the eyes, I am not one hundred percent all in on this one.
Keep your fingers crossed. The photos should arrive today or tomorrow. I am hoping that he has an amazing soul that mine recognizes as someone who can affect tikkun.
I am hoping that this is not a relationship in which I will find myself drowning again.
MA has a one track mind. I'm on that track. I am that track.
I only know what is in his profile, which is all wonderful. But after two conversations he is in love and has planned the honeymoon. I accept this because I have seen from these guys on this site that once they know what they want, once they believe something they have no ambivalence like my silly aquarian self. I still wish that I had more an emotional connection to him than I do. I want to know more about his life... I don't need to know what he is thinking all of the time. But I do need to feel that mind connection. Residue from my Vulcan studies? Maybe. But girls are like that. Shoot, I went to school with He Who for ten years before I noticed him. And then it took a common interest in a character in a set of books he told me I wouldn't like because I am a girl. And that guy in MQT, that wasn't immediate. As a matter of fact, he scared me for the first few days that we worked together. i need to connect with him more.
It is very easy to listen to his professions of love. And I want so much to belong to someone. But I still want to be myself and I want him to be himself. I have a suspicion that I could be co opted for that Stepford collective if I'm not careful. I also think that could be a deal breaker for him. I don't want to be anyone but me and I don't think he knows enough about me beyond my looks.
And I grant you, I posted a very flattering picture which disguises my rosacae and hides my herniated bulge. But he says I am gorgeous... all the time. Yes, thanks for asking, he does have glasses. No, I doubt he needs to up his script.
On the upside, when I hear his voice, my chakras get all whirly and light. My body feels light and I have this overwhelming sense of peace. So in that sense he is perfect. I haven't seen his picture so I can't read his eyes. That I think is holding me up. I've loved people's profiles enough to contact them to be friends. But without a good vibe from the soul that is reflected in the eyes, I am not one hundred percent all in on this one.
Keep your fingers crossed. The photos should arrive today or tomorrow. I am hoping that he has an amazing soul that mine recognizes as someone who can affect tikkun.
I am hoping that this is not a relationship in which I will find myself drowning again.
if you can call it progress
It's been one week longer than the folk purchasing my annuity said it would be before I saw my money. And I am in trouble.
There is no way that i can live without this money in the economic situation we are in locally. I am working 40 plus hours per week and not making enough to live on. And I currently do not pay anything in rent. Which has to change by the end of the month.
There is a sinking feeling that my brother has already petitioned the insurance company to liquidate the funds in our account to pay for the estate which has 30,000.00 of debt to it. He said the whole thing was my fault because I was named the executor in both wills on file. Pam presented a trust she paid for as real, when it wasn't they bothe decided to petition to make it real so that I could do nothing anyway. And I don't have the fiscal ability... not three years ago and certainly not now. So I don't see how it is my fault. We would have had to sign all the paperwork that we just signed back then. I'm out of it. I tried and I didn't have anybacking.
While my sister was in charge we were all expected to fork over cash to get it done. Legally she wss the only one responsible. Now that brother is in charge he wants assisstance. But last year when they put it all on me I had to do it without any help.
I can't survive without that annuity. And there is something holding it up.
I hate having to be dependent on anyone. And they both know that I would rather die than be likened to uncle Donald. I am an intelligent woman with plans and a future. If I had not put my life on hold for others for the first 38 years of my life, I would have a thriving business already. Instead, I find myself in a struggle for my own autonomy.
Certainly, you may think this an over the top dramatization... but in fact, well... in fact, it may be. I can't really seperate myself from my fears right now. I lost that incredibly cool placeon hte bay because of the hold up. I have till the end of the month to move out on my own. I've already been told if I go and llive at Brother's that I will have to be the family slave. I will be kept busy or I will be asked to leave. No books, no art supplies, no cards or anything else that makes me me. I can have suitable clothes and my work uniform. That's it.
This is the tahnks I get for making sure he passed English. I should never have helped him write his essays. Let's see how far in his life he would be if he had flunked Community college...
not very far. And I get to be his slave for my troubles.
There is no way that i can live without this money in the economic situation we are in locally. I am working 40 plus hours per week and not making enough to live on. And I currently do not pay anything in rent. Which has to change by the end of the month.
There is a sinking feeling that my brother has already petitioned the insurance company to liquidate the funds in our account to pay for the estate which has 30,000.00 of debt to it. He said the whole thing was my fault because I was named the executor in both wills on file. Pam presented a trust she paid for as real, when it wasn't they bothe decided to petition to make it real so that I could do nothing anyway. And I don't have the fiscal ability... not three years ago and certainly not now. So I don't see how it is my fault. We would have had to sign all the paperwork that we just signed back then. I'm out of it. I tried and I didn't have anybacking.
While my sister was in charge we were all expected to fork over cash to get it done. Legally she wss the only one responsible. Now that brother is in charge he wants assisstance. But last year when they put it all on me I had to do it without any help.
I can't survive without that annuity. And there is something holding it up.
I hate having to be dependent on anyone. And they both know that I would rather die than be likened to uncle Donald. I am an intelligent woman with plans and a future. If I had not put my life on hold for others for the first 38 years of my life, I would have a thriving business already. Instead, I find myself in a struggle for my own autonomy.
Certainly, you may think this an over the top dramatization... but in fact, well... in fact, it may be. I can't really seperate myself from my fears right now. I lost that incredibly cool placeon hte bay because of the hold up. I have till the end of the month to move out on my own. I've already been told if I go and llive at Brother's that I will have to be the family slave. I will be kept busy or I will be asked to leave. No books, no art supplies, no cards or anything else that makes me me. I can have suitable clothes and my work uniform. That's it.
This is the tahnks I get for making sure he passed English. I should never have helped him write his essays. Let's see how far in his life he would be if he had flunked Community college...
not very far. And I get to be his slave for my troubles.
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