Who gave you permission?
At my ten year class reunion, the most common questions people were asking were "What do you do now?" and "Where do you live now?" With me, though, it was "Do you still live in America?" and "What do you do now?"
At first, I answered the "What do you do" question the cumbersome way. I said "I worked in software engineering for several years but then I quit. Now I'm doing some babysitting and some taxi driving and... I also started my own counseling business. But I don't have enough clients yet, so..." At this point, I had completely lost each of the two people I gave this answer to. So I consulted my friend Julia, who knows that I call myself a psychic counselor, for a quick and easy answer to give to our former classmates. There is no good translation for the word psychic in German. Julia said "You could say that you're a life counselor. But you might get some funny looks. It has a negative esoteric connotation." I said "That's fine. I'm used to that. Life counselor it is."
After that, when people asked me what I do, I said that I work independently as a life counselor. Many people were curious about that and started asking me questions. This is what they asked.
Don't you need some kind of degree for that?
No.
Can anybody just do that?
Yes.
Are there enough people who need that kind of counseling?
Yes.
Don't you want job security?
No.
Aren't you afraid that if you ever want to get back into programming, that they won't let you because you have been out of it for too long?
No.
Being asked these questions was like looking in the mirror. I was asking myself the same questions, circa a year and a half ago. It is very typical of Germans to ask these questions. I have noticed recently that a big part of our culture is that we always need permission from an outside entity for everything we do. It comes from the system we live in: We need to do 13 years of school and get the Abitur to go to university. We need a certain GPA to be admitted to medical school. We need degree X in order to get job Y.* And so forth. This affects our overall thinking and outlook. That's why people were asking me all those questions. They boiled down to: Who gave you permission to do something so radically different from what you did before? Who gave you permission to call yourself a counselor? I did.
But I think that the reason I don't have many clients yet is that subconsciously I am still waiting for an outside entity to give me permission. I just have to remind my subconscious that I am the one to give me permission. There is noone else.
*For some professions this is true even in America. For instance, you can't be a lawyer without a law degree. But in Germany the whole professional system, although becoming more flexible lately, is much more rigid than here.
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.: posted by Vera 
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Modeling
I'm about to tell you one of the things I have been ashamed of the most in my entire life. Ahhhhh, it feels so good to let it out after years of holding it in.
What I have been so ashamed of is that in 1996 I invested $3000 in a modeling career that went absolutely nowhere. But more on that later. First, my very first experience with modeling.
When I was 14, my friend Sandy and I were approached at a grocery store by a local hair dresser. She asked us if we would be interested in modeling for an upcoming hair show. She liked us because we had matching hair cuts, one of our heads blond and straight while the other was brown and curly. She thought our looks were perfect for her hair show. We agreed to do it.
A few days later we visited her salon to get our hair slightly colored, and that weekend was the show. She asked us to wear the same clothes as we did at the store because they matched as well. You know, the current teenager uniform at the time.
We were served champagne before the show. This was the first time in my life that I was tipsy. It sure helped me relax on the runway.
Cut to six year later. I was 20 and living in Southern California. I heard something on the radio about a model search. I wrote down the number and called it. It was John Robert Powers in Rancho Cucamonga. They asked me if I could come down for an interview the next day. I said sure.
My boyfriend at the time and I drove to Rancho Cucamonga, so that I could talk to a beautiful blond woman named Kirsten King, who had always been "better at modeling," and an Asian woman whose name I forgot and who had always been "better at acting." Kirsten told me that I needed to become a model because I had a very unique look. She told me it wouldn't hurt if I lost a few pounds but that I was basically okay the way I was. She told me that John Robert Powers held auditions for modeling and acting gigs all over Southern California, and that I could go to any of them if I "signed up." If I signed up, I would also get to take a "personal development class," followed by a "modeling class" and an "acting class." She said that it was $3000 to sign up. I said that that was a lot of money and that I wasn't sure if I could pay it. Kirsten said "Well, do you think you can ask your parents for money?" I said that no, I didn't think they would give me money for this. Kirsten King said "This is an investment in yourself, Vera. And we do have payment plans." I told her that I would think about it. She said that I should make this decision as soon as possible.
I thought about it for a day and even though I didn't feel right about the way Kirsten King had pressured me, I was dazzled by how glamorous she looked. I also thought that by NOT going to John Robert Powers, I probably wouldn't be modeling or acting anytime soon. But if I went to John Robert Powers, I MIGHT just be a model or an actress soon. So I signed up the next day and put down my initial deposit. "I'm so glad you came back," Kirsten King said.
I started going to the personal development class every Sunday. We learned how to apply make-up and how to walk down a runway. The teacher, Dahna, told us that we each needed to buy lots of make-up, including foundation and a cover stick. She gave us a shopping list and told us which brands to buy and not to buy. She also told us what kinds of things to eat and what not to eat.
I did go to an audition once. And I did get the gig: Unpaid "fragrance modeling." That meant walking around a department store passing out Calvin Klein samples.
Meanwhile, I thought about getting some headshots done for my portfolio. I went to a local photographer and told him that I was an aspiring model. I said "I already learned how to do the basic model make-up, so..." He said "What? Models don't need to know how to do make-up." I thought "Huh." That was kind of true.
I had been somewhat suspicious from the start, but now I knew for sure: This was a scam. Real models don't pay to model. They GET PAID to model. I was paying to model, $3000 that is.
I had attended John Robert Powers for maybe five weeks when I told Kirsten King that I wanted out. She said "But Vera. We signed an agreement. We are holding up our end of the deal because we are still offering you a spot in our classes. All you have to do to do hold up your end of the deal is pay." When I started arguing she said something about garnishment of wages. That really scared me, so I shut up.
I stopped attending the classes. I felt that it was a waste of my time. I decided to focus instead on school and my job at Mervyn's. I paid the full balance I owed to John Robert Powers just a few months later. Kirsten King said "I'm so glad you decided to follow through on your commitment." Me too, Kirsten. Also, how do you sleep at night?
$3000 were gone and all I had gotten for it was a lot of shame. Shame that I didn't have what it takes to be a real model that actually gets paid. Shame that I had enough vanity to pay $3000 but not enough courage to continue to pursue it after this setback.
For the next several years I would dismiss any kind of pursuit of modeling or acting as just an act of vanity. I would openly feel sorry for people who tried because of how much rejection and failure they were exposing themselves to, and because jeez, how vain is that? Didn't they know that there were other things in life to get excited about, like school and part-time jobs at Mervyn's? And I tried to push far far away the fact that I had blown $3000. I went on with my life and got over it after a year or so.
But the truth is that I would love to be a model. Still today. I would love to get dressed up and made to look all glamorous and have my picture taken and get paid lots of money for it. That sounds like fun.
Some of you may remember that I did a little bit of modeling for some local designers in 2004. It was really fun, and the part of me that still felt bitter about the John Robert Powers embarrassment thought "Ha! I did get to model after all!" And the part of me that had developed an attitude of rejection towards any kind of modeling rationalized to myself that it was okay to do THIS kind of modeling because it's the cool, alternative, underground kind.
But now that my shame is gone (because I have written it all down for the public to read--it's that simple!), I say to that underground schmunderground. It feels good to support local designers as opposed to, say, Revlon, but the truth is that I would do commercial modeling in a heartbeat, if I was asked to do it. Maybe I wouldn't model for beef jerky, but for Stayfree Maxipads, sure.
So I still want to be a model. I am, and always have been, vain. But now I'm not ashamed of my vanity anymore, and for that I congratulate myself.
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.: posted by Vera
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I listened
When I left Macromedia in December, I kind of thought that I was completely done with Flash development. That's how burnt out and disillusioned I was. But then I started using Flash for my new business and noticed how fun THAT was. So then I thought that I was only going to do Flash development for my own business.
Then, there is this other interesting development. Ever since I left Macromedia, I have been getting lots of recruiter emails, all from tech companies. One of them was from Apple(!), asking if I was interested in working for them. More recently I got one from Yahoo(!), about a Flash developer position at Yahoo. People would kill for these kinds of jobs. Or maybe my view is distorted, so let's just say that *I* would have killed for jobs like these a few years ago. It's very ironic that I didn't get offers like these when I really wanted them, and that now that I am saying good-bye to my old career and starting on a whole new path, I keep getting them. I chuckled at the irony and told all the recruiters "No, no, no thanks."
Then there was the part where I started running out of money and something needed to happen. The psychic consulting makes me, oh, about $20 a week, if I'm lucky, and the taxi driving, while fun, even if I did it full-time, would make me barely enough to pay my rent and my bills. Some of my friends (you know who you are) suggested I do some freelance Flash work. But again, I thought "No, no, no, that's not what I want."
But then a few things started happening that made me more open: A friend told me on my birthday that she works 15 hours a week on a freelance tech job, and since the hourly rate is so high, she is making enough money to support herself. One of my taxi passengers, with whom I had talked about ActionScript and my previous job, called me later that day, wanting me to work on this project of his. I had already started to suspect it but now I knew: THIS IS A SIGN. THIS, this weird irony, the feeling that the whole universe is trying to get me back into Flash when I keep resisting is actually a sign. The universe wants me to do this.
Then I remembered that two different people had recently told me this story: A man was standing on a house in a big flood. A boat came by offering to help him, but he said "No, god will save me." A helicopter came by offering to help him, but he said "No, god will save me." The water rose, and the man drowned. In the after-life, he asked god "Why didn't you save me?" And god replied "I sent you a boat and a helicopter, but you wouldn't take it."
I finally get it: The universe is trying to help me from drowning by sending me all these people offering me Flash jobs. It may not be the way I thought the universe was going to help me, but it's help nonetheless. And I'm not one to argue with the universe.
So the day after I got back from Europe, I talked to the very nice people at a creative temp agency that Antonio had referred me to, and the next day I started a freelance job at a very cool company. The project is supposed to go until the end of next week, and after that, there is more work IF I WANT IT. That's the cool thing about freelancing: I can work if I want to but I can also say no. This kind of freedom is absolutely essential for me these days.
Another irony is that years ago I considered being a freelance Flash developer, working on contracts only. But it seemed too risky - what if I don't get a new contract when I need it? So I opted for the security of a full-time job. But now that I have taken the one big risk of quitting my job, the risks of freelance suddenly seem negligible.
God, life is so interesting.
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.: posted by Vera
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Finland and Germany pictures
In case you haven't noticed, my Finland and Germany pictures are up. I gave in to the voice that told me to hurry up and post them already. Also, I was surprised by how colorful Finland is.
Another thing that surprised me was that on this trip I didn't buy ANY clothes for myself. This is the first time in TEN YEARS I didn't come home with at least a couple of items of European clothing. I tried shopping a couple of times, mostly because that's what I always do, but I wasn't enjoying it, and really I think it's just this habit leftover from my teens that doesn't have much value anymore. In my teens I lived in a small town, so every time I was in any kind of bigger city, shopping seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime kind of opportunity. And on this trip, I visited three cities--Helsinki, Cologne and Münster--so my mind automatically started thinking "must shop, must shop, must shop." But that's not true anymore. I must not shop when what I really want to do is sit in cafes or lay around and read.
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.: posted by Vera
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Who was I kidding? I'm a geek above all else
Today at 2pm, after I pick up a friend of a friend with my Yellow Bug Airport Cab, I start working on a short-term freelance Flash project. I'm expected to show up with my laptop, ready to start coding.
More on how this came about later.
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.: posted by Vera
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The twins' first word
The day after we got back from Europe, Antti and I visited our favorite twins, the ones I have been babysitting once a week, his sister's 16-month old daughters. And they said their first word! The word was kuu, which means moon in Finnish. For a while they had both known how to say star already. How they said is is tata which could be construed as tähti, the Finnish word for star, especially if they said that while pointing at my star ear rings. But this time, I asked them where the moon is in the book Good Night Sweet Butterflies, which Antti and I had picked out for them a few months ago. I said Missä on kuu, which means Where is the moon? And they both pointed at the moon in the book, and I don't remember exactly what happened next but they both started saying kuu. Anni's sounded more like kuhhh, but Helmi clearly said kuuuu. It made me so proud, especially since the first things they're reaching for are the stars and the moon.
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.: posted by Vera
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Tears on the swings
One time while in Germany, Antti and I were walking along the Promenade in Münster. I was talking about how being in Germany made me see how rigid people's beliefs were and how hard it is for Germans to consider careers outside of the main subjects that are taught in school, and how hard that was for me for a long time. I said to Antti that I remembered a time in my junior year of college when I was wondering, out loud to a friend, "Why can't we be rewarded for knowing a lot about movies or about music or about clubs? Why do we only get rewarded for knowing a lot about math, geography or economics?" As I said this to Antti, I noticed that tears were welling up behind my eyes. Lately, whenever I noticed that something is making me cry, I try to deal with it immediately. So Antti and I sat on some swings and I started talking more about why I was crying.
I said that the truth is that people do get rewarded for knowing a lot about movies or music or clubs. People have careers that have to do with movies or music or clubs. It's just that that wasn't a truth in the world I grew up in. In the world I grew up in, you went to school, then you went to university to pretty much specialize in one of the subjects you already knew from high school, and then you either went on to teach that subject at a high school or a university, or you tried to get a job at some company that hopefully was hiring specialists like you. I WAS NEVER TOLD that I could make a living knowing a lot about movies or music or clubs or PSYCHIC STUFF. I never knew that there was a world beyond becoming an accountant or an engineer or a doctor, and that's why I was crying now. I am still dealing with the consequences of never knowing that there were other things out there, fun things that I was interested in PERSONALLY, not just professionally or because I was getting A's in it. And I am afraid that I may spend the rest of my life trying to get out of that rigid mindset, which is so deep it's cellular, so I can think with true freedom about my options.
So as I sat there on the swing, I asked myself: What would I want to be rewarded for in life that I never learned I could be rewarded for? The answer is: Making the world more colorful. I have always wanted to make the world a more colorful place, and I have done so for years by dressing in colorful clothes and decorating my rooms and apartments with brights colors. But never did I consider that I could do that professionally. I didn't pursue a career in graphic design or interior design because there are many graphic designers and interior designers who do NOT make the world more colorful, and I didn't want to be one of them. So I became first an economist and then a programmer. Stupid, I know, but now I know that I can make the world more colorful in many different ways: By being me, painting, driving a taxi, doing psychic consulting, writing, talking to others, doing Flash stuff, publishing books, taking pictures, modeling, hooping, etc. And for some of these things I can even get paid. That would mean that I get paid to make the world more colorful.
So going forward, I hope that everything I do, for money or otherwise, will help make the world more colorful.
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.: posted by Vera
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Tired
The whole time I was in Europe, I was unbelievably tired, so tired in fact that I felt like I couldn't function. It wasn't just jet-lag; this was life crisis kind of fatigue. (I mean, I know I'm going through a life crisis right now, what with the voluntary joblessness and involuntary moneylessness, but the fatigue wasn't there until the trip.) I drank lots of coffee to compensate but it didn't help at all. At first I thought that the coffee in Europe just isn't as strong as in America, but when, on the day we were in Cologne, I had had a double mocha AND a double espresso and still wasn't feeling remotely perky, I had a realization: The caffeine had no effect on me because what I really needed was rest. My sister was there when I had this realization out loud. She was very understanding and accommodating, and that night at her boyfriend Wolfgang's house, we did nothing but sit around and talk and drink beer. Thank goodness!
Every time I go to Germany, I think I'm on vacation, but I never actually am because there are so many things to do and people to see. And this time there was even a new country (Finland) and a new city (Helsinki) to explore, so of course I was running around like crazy. But after my rest vs. caffeine realization I took it easy for the rest of the trip. Pretty much all I did for the remaining few days was read Prep, and that's exactly what I needed. The more I laid around and read, the less tired I was.
Now I'm home again and I still feel like resting. It's weird that I just took a six month break and now I feel like I need to rest. It makes me wonder what I've been doing for the last six months, if not rest. The truth is I didn't rest. I may not have worked in the traditional sense, but that doesn't mean that I rested. I tried to get my new life off the ground, every single day, every waking hour. That's catching up with me now, by making me tired for every single day of my two week "vacation".
I took today off but still, I had a hard time resting. My mind was constantly telling me to unpack my suitcases, put my pictures online, blog already ("You have written two tiny little posts in the last two weeks, your readers are waiting"), to get back to yoga class so that the post-vacation flab will disappear, to talk to that guy from the freelance agency already, to start becoming famous for making the world more colorful, to start making money,... No wonder I'm exhausted. I need a vacation from my mind.
Another thing I realized is that the desire to compensate with caffeine for my fatigue stems from my old life and is now outdated: There had been too many times where I HAD to be perky when I wasn't. As a teenager, I had to go to school at 8am whether my body wanted to be there or not. As an adult, I had to go back to work after lunch even if my body wanted to take a nap. In my new life, it's not like that. I am living on MY time now, not on somebody else's. If I'm tired, it's okay to be tired. I can take it easy. I can give myself the rest that I need. It seems that I don't fully understand yet how things work in my new life. There is no need anymore to force myself to be perky and alert when I'm not.
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.: posted by Vera
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Quickly
The book Prep , a birthday present off of my wishlist from my brother, is my favorite thing in my life right now. There is nothing I have enjoyed more these past few days than reading that book - a novel about a thoughtful and extremely inscecure teenage girl at a fancy boarding school. Its effect on me is reminiscent of the book Wasted, which I read in 2000, in how soothing I find its rawness and honesty.
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.: posted by Vera
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Reunion
I went to the ten year reunion of my graduating class in Germany last night. Almost everybody was there. It was very interesting to hear what everybody was up to. Three people are doctors, many are teachers, one person is a successful artist. Overall, I am very proud of my graduating class. We are a smart bunch.
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.: posted by Vera
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I'm 30, I have a new camera lens, and I'm off to Europe
On my birthday I drove a taxi and hung out at Yerba Buena Gardens in worse-and-colder-than-expexted weather (thanks for coming anyway, Antti, Amy, Mika, Sirpa, Anni, Helmi, Philo, Toshi, Kazue, Amy, Jay, Maryann, and Brendan!). Then Antti and I took a taxi to my place and he gave me my birthday present: A new camera lens!
And now we're off to Helsinki.
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.: posted by Vera
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Meine Oma ist gestorben
My grandma has died. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I never had to use that sentence but now that I am three days away from being 30, it has become a sad truth. Meine Oma ist gestorben. My grandma has died.
My grandpa on my mother's side died before I was born, and my whole life I have had three living grandparents: my grandma and grandpa on my father's side and my grandma on my mother's side.
After midnight this morning, May 2, Central European Time, my mother's mother passed away at the age of 89. My mom was there when it happened. It really comforts me that she didn't die alone, and that it was my mom that was there with her.
My grandma's name was Johanna Schröter. To me, she was always known as Oma Hannchen. Hannchen pretty much means "little Hanna". I guess she kept her childhood name all her life. Her maiden name was Schenk. She was born on January 2, 1917 and grew up in an area of Germany called Schlesien (Silesia). When Germany lost WWII, it lost Silesia to Poland. Germans living in Silesia at the end of WWII had to flee from the wrath of the Poles and Russians. My grandpa was a soldier in the war at the time. He had heard hat this area in Northrhine-Westphalia (where I ended up growing up) was providing shelter for refugees. So my grandpa sent my grandma a letter saying "Go to Emsdetten. I'll meet you there after I'm released." My grandma took her two little sons, Jochen and Helmut, and whatever she could carry with her hands and got the hell out of Silesia.
My grandma was lucky that she didn't get raped at the end of WWII as many women in her community did. She also had nothing taken from her, which was also lucky. But one time a Russian offered to buy her older son, Jochen, because the Russian thought he was very cute. My grandma declined the offer, and luckily the Russian dropped it.
My grandma and grandpa were lucky and did end up finding each other in Emsdetten. They were lucky again a few years later and were able to buy a house in Emsdetten. My grandma lived in that house until the end of last year.
In 1948, my grandparents had their third child, my mom. People were saying that they were crazy to bring another child into the world at that time. Basic necessities were hard to come by and everybody was poor in war-wrecked Germany. But my grandparents were happy to have another child. The birth of their first daughter was to them a ray of sunshine and joy in the otherwise bleak landscape of post-war Germany.
A couple of years later they had another son, Martin, and many many years later, when my grandma was already 48, she gave birth to another daugher, Judith. Judith wasn't planned but loved all the more.
Four years after Judith was born, my grandpa died suddenly of a stroke, leaving my grandma an early widow with four adult children and one four-year-old girl. After his death, my grandma didn't speak well of my grandpa. This often angered my mom. My grandparents' marriage hadn't been the happiest. Last year my grandma described my grandpa to me as cold and strict. She said he treated her like his property. But my mom has very fond memories of her father. Being the only daugher for 17 years, he often gave her special treatment.
After my grandpa died, my grandma was treated and hospitalized for depression several times. She didn't think it was related to being an early widow, nor to all the hardship she went through as a post-war refugee. She thought it was just the chemicals in her brain.
It seems that I inherited my own bouts of depression from my grandma. I also inherited something else from her: thinning hair. Ever since I can remember, my grandma has worn a wig. My mom told me that my grandma had enough hair to not wear a wig but that would require special grooming every day that my grandma was not willing to put up with. A wig was easier.
All my life my grandma lived with my aunt Judith, her youngest daughter. After Judith became a single mom around age 21, it was my grandma, Judith and her son Florian, who is now 20. But a few years ago Judith got married, and she and her husband built a little red house in my grandma's big backyard, where she, her husband, and Florian are living now. My grandma stayed in her own house, which used to house a family of 7.
My grandma read more than anybody I have ever known. She read and read and read. Luckily, her eyesight and her intellect stayed sharp until the very end. But for the past few years she has had to have dialysis done three times a week. It really wore her out.
Shortly before Christmas last year, her physical condition got so bad that she had to be hospitalized and afterwards was put in an elderly care home because she couldn't live by herself anymore. The last time I talked to her was on her 89th birthday on January 2. She told me that she was trying to get adjusted to being in a home and that I was really brave for quitting my job.
Shortly after that, her house was torn down because it was too old to be remodeled. My aunt Judith and her husband, who live on the same property, are planning to build an apartment building where my grandma's house once was.
I will miss my grandma, Oma Hannchen, very much. Luckily I had the foresight to take one last picture of her and her house when I visited in November. Today I made a painting in her honor. It's called Family Tree.
Family Tree
Originally uploaded by Verabug.
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.: posted by Vera
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