Home is a relative word

I don't think there is anyone on this earth that hates home renovations more than I do, nor any daughter that is more different than her mother.
My mother, my beautiful kind mother loves her home, and is constantly trying to improve it, nurture it.
Me? I can't wait to buy a plane ticket and escape it.
Unfortunately, the home I live in needed new kitchen counter tops. The old ones were not exactly falling apart but esthetically they were not the most pleasing thing. A few tiles had began to break.
Me: "So what? Who cares? How much is this going to cost me? HEY, that's three or four tickets to Europe!
(I measure everything in tickets to Europe. I used to measure value by how many shoes I could buy but I grew up.)
A realtor-friend: "Whether you want to sell the place or rent it, the new counter tops will increase the value of your apartment."
My mother-in-law: "You should do it sooner rather than later so you can enjoy it."
(Question. How do you "enjoy" granite kitchen counter tops? Anyone?)
Hmmm, I'm not sure what I enjoy more. The dust, the splinters, scattered paint on my curtains, wine rack or hardwood floors, or the fact that I haven't been able to even have water from my kitchen in three days, let alone food. Or the fact that I have to clean since I have cats and they can't wait until the housekeeper comes, which is Friday afternoon. (It's Wednesday.) Nor can I live and breathe among white dust.
(Disclaimer: I hate to clean almost as much as home improvements.)
Also, the fact that everything in my living room and kitchen is covered in white dust, is not helping with my neuroses. The fact that I have to spend any amount of time in the room makes we worry how toxic the dust really is. Am I inhaling it? Is it in my lungs? I think my throat is scratchy, yes, there is definitely something in my throat. (Ran to the bathroom. Brushed my teeth five times, then mouth washed it another three until I almost threw up. Damn, I still have something in my throat!)
p.s. If you see me on the street, keep going, I might bite your head off.

Just a boy...

"Marija, you were acting in NYC and you were a broadcast journalist, what is wrong with you?!" is what I was thinking just before I got up in front of that mic yesterday afternoon at The Writer's Center in Bethesda. I was nervous and I should not have been. My story was good, I knew that, I practised reading it out loud, and had 11 friends and a teacher in the audience supporting me.
But I was still nervous, so nervous that I was a little short of breath when I began reading. But then, I relaxed soon after.
I was worried that people won't understand every word I say since I speak English with a Slavic accent. And they needed to understand every word of a six-minute excerpt. Every word was precious, there was nothing to cut off. Believe me, I cut off everything that I could in order to tell my story.
But I didn't tell the whole story.
I was cut off almost at the end.
So, after the readings ended, people I don't know came to me and told me they wanted to know how my story ended. And that they liked it.
I remembered, even in front of a camera, or on the stage, I have always been nervous. But I have never, not once, screwed up.
I actually was told in grad school that I looked the most comfortable as a TV anchor. Huh. True story.
In sum, the reading went smoothly, people loved my story and enjoyed my "actor's" presentation. Oh I played that baby up, inflections, different voices, moods...
So I'm extremely satisfied how everything played out.
My teacher was too, saying "you have no competition in the room," just before she left. And "has this story been published?"
We're talking about my new story here,"Just a boy," It's a story about a little girl, a Croatian little girl, whose mother left her for another man, and her father died in World War II. The story is about the night when her father comes back home after three years and finds out that his wife was impregnated by another man before she left.
Pretty heavy stuff, I know, but all my stories are like that. Well, almost all. I have a few light ones, just to mix it up.
So, this morning when I got up, everything was back to normal. I need to work on my book. I need to work on my query letter. And I need my latte. Quiet, rainy morning, after a loud, fun day.

Provocative and scandalous

A writer I took "Reading and Writing short stories" course in September with, asked me last week if I wanted to read at her reading. She said she liked my writing. We haven't been in touch for at least seven months, and just out of the blue, she drops an e-mail saying something like, "I really liked your work and I was hoping you would read..."
I was flattered to say at the least.
And I of course jumped at the opportunity.
I actually had a trip to Philly planned for that (next) weekend, train tickets, hotel booked. So I picked up my phone and moved everything for two weeks down the road.
When I told our mutual teacher that this writer invited me to read with her, she said, she was "pleased and hoped that we would stay in touch."
What can i say except I've been feeling pretty good with myself as a fiction writer ever since. Have I mentioned that this other writer is truly very talented? She won some scholarship I'm thinking about applying for now.
All this, and the fact that tomorrow (probably) or any day after that I have two stories coming out in two magazines, makes this a pretty great week. One in NYC, one in LA. Huh!
So, my reading is on Sunday. I am very excited and just a tiny bit nervous, but mostly can't wait. You see, I used to be a broadcast journalist and actor, so I'm used to the spotlight. And, honestly, I like it.
As far as my book goes, I'm almost at the point where I'm ready to send it out again, but this time it is way better, much, much improved from the first, "impatient" version. It's actually over 70 percent rewritten completely.
Part of me wants to do it today, part of me wants to wait another few months.
And as far as the Sunday reading goes, I still haven't decided which story to read. I'm leaning toward one, but it's hard. I cannot be objective about my writing. But I will definitely pick one that I have work shopped and got good ratings on.
So stay tuned. My "Does Ana have a reason to sleep so beautifully" and "Broken Mirror" will be looking for their readers soon. And I promise, they are both provocative, scandalous. No PG 13 here...

Zoran Djindjic, rolling in his grave

A few days ago, I glanced at a list of Toma Nikolic's (new Serbian president) advisers and advisers to be. And I got an instant headache.
After reading a distinguished list--a former mob lawyer, a Dean of an University involved in repression against anti-Milosevic students (i.e. moi) and faculty, more recently accused of accepting bribes, a Nikolic's family member, a police general close to Milosevic, Milosevic's wife Mirjana's book editor, and another former member of Mira Markovic's JUL party, who stole Serbian parliamentary elections for Milosevic--I thought two things.
First, it must be a Saturday Night Live skid. It must be!
Second, Zoran Djindjic must be rolling in his grave.
Between this government that mocks the hell out of everything that OTPOR, and students, and people fought for and suffered through, and sends Serbia straight back to the 90s, or the hell, and the fact that Boris Tadic (former Serbian president, a prime minister to be) refuses to step down even though he LOST the elections, fair and square, I think that if there is life after death, Djindjic probably wishes there wasn't.

All I can add is that if I weren't attached at hip to Serbia, I would be laughing too...

Inspirational microwave

Loud beeping sounds woke me up at 5am. They were coming from a microwave no one used for days. It just magically turned on, beeping like someone was trying to kill it which is exactly what I wanted to do after it made me get up from my cozy bed. After unplugging it, I went back to bed, but couldn't fall asleep (of course, I never can.) When this happens, sometimes I think of my writing. So, my thoughts fell on one of my stories I just haven't been able to finish, or rewrite for at least a year. Suddenly, while laying in bed, with my eyes closed, it all became so clear. An eureka! An epiphany! A resolution!
Then I continued thinking if I should just get up or will I remember my idea in the morning. While in that process, I also got an excellent idea for the query letter and the structure of my book!
While going in my mind over these ideas I thought brilliant at the time, I somehow fell asleep.
I know what you're thinking. I woke up at 9am forgetting everything.
But I didn't!
I got up at 830am and wrote the ideas down. But then, today, I actually wrote a new story, and it's brilliant! I'm so happy!
So, thank you microwave! Even though I never use you (microwave breaks food into indigestible particles and radiates you) you proved to be very inspirational!
Actually, feel free to wake me up in the middle of the night from now on. I have a deadline to uphold!

Why Nikolic won Serbian elections

I woke up this morning and the world was different. I wish I could say for the better.
Toma Nikolic, I found out, won the presidential elections in Serbia. Toma Nikolic, for the ones who don't know, is a "former' Radical, former Seselj's guy, who reinvented himself into a fairly new Progressive Party leader, about four years ago I believe. And the Radical Party was once in coalition with Milosevic.
So, Serbia, my friends, as much as it pains me to say, seems to be going backwards. It's already in the 60s compared to the States, according to my "Mad Men" analysis (everybody smokes and leaves trash on the grass after a picnic...), so I'm guessing, it's skipping the 70s, and going straight back into the 90s. Yay! 90s in Serbia (Yugoslavia) were so much fun! I mean, you couldn't gain wait because there was no food to buy, and you couldn't go anywhere because there was no gas, no money, and no one would let you into their country anyway, and you were actually encouraged to spend your whole salary in one day since it wasn't worth anything the day after...and then, in '99, you got bombed! Excellent! Good times!Parties all night, free fireworks and toxic fumes!
But I don't blame an average Serb for Nikolic's success. I actually blame the Democratic Party who played God, when it was suppose to help Serbia. They were the ones who let the corruption cover Serbia like weed. They were the ones who were arrogant and untouchable.
Guess what? When Serbs get angry, they do things to spite, even though it might not be in their best interest.
But Serbs should know Serbs. Or do they?
I am so frustrated that I sometimes think I would want to form a party of successful, incorruptible Serbian Diaspora, who wants to go to Serbia, run an "Obama" campaign, and get the country in order. I would fire everybody, and then hire the best professionals with squeakily clean background checks.
But it's probably just a dream...

Organ's Madam

Have you ever been to Madam's Organ? Well, if you haven't, maybe you should.
It's an institution in Adams Morgan neighborhood of Washington DC, and I was there last weekend.
It's a large saloon with live music and delicious, delicious Rum Punches. People dance on the ground floor in front of the bend, or play pool on the floor above, where there's also a DJ later in the evening. But there's also a rooftop bar, if you like getting drunk while star-gazing. It was a little smokey there (on the rooftop) last weekend, but if you don't mind cigarettes, cigars or whatever else that might have been, it's a charming place to have a drink.
At one point, while trying to talk to friends through good, loud blues, a guitar player with a red hat walked up the first floor and began picking girls and sitting on their laps, while still playing the guitar. I don't know if he picked to sit only on skirted legs or what his criteria was, but I was stunned and amused!
I wonder if I should have tipped him?
As Schwarzenegger once so eloquently put it: "I'll be back!"