Teen drop in the hood...

A few weeks ago, my dear friend forwarded me the announcement of "Anchor House" turning a corner building right in our neighborhood into a teen drop for kids in trouble. When I first read it, I thought "what a nice thing to do...".
And then I started thinking. I take the bus to work, which departs right across the street from the future "safe haven", and it ain't pretty. Isn't there a reason why recovery centers, rehabs and other "get-people-out-of-trouble"- institutions are usually located in a safe and quiet part of the world? Let's see what the responsible people are trying to achieve here, and let me point out why it is going to fail miserably:

"It will be a one-stop shop for the various things teens need," said Aleah Hosszu, Anchor House's director

No kidding. Dealers are selling their drugs on one corner, prostitutes (male and female) are working it diagonally across, and directly opposite is Hub's liquor store. Could troubled teens possibly need anything else? Is it me, or is it normal to house drunks and addicts right next to drinks and drugs? Call me old fashioned... but it just sounds a little odd.

"They need to stay occupied with something. A place like the Anchorage keeps you from thinking about doing a lot of bad things."

Yep... I am sure that hooking, shooting up and stealing for their next fix will most certainly keep them pretty occupied... there won't be much time to think about doing bad stuff; it'll just come naturally!!!

"Youths and young adults will be able to watch television, get something to eat, and use computers to research schools and jobs. Anchor House will hold discussions at the center on topics such as violence prevention and AIDS awareness. Teens will be able to use a shower and a bathroom and receive hygiene supplies."

In reality it will be as follows: They hang out watching "Saw 1, 2, 3 (is there a forth one? I mean... how many limbs can one cut off???), download porn online, get food - along with rolling papers - at the corner store, eat and drink on the stoop and "discuss" violence and AIDS by harassing people walking by (with their little shih-tzus...).
Am I against helping kids in need? Absolutely not. But any idiot can see that the proposed plan is not going to work - not in this part of town. They are targeting young people - age 16 to 20, and are hoping that eventually this place will run 24 hours a day. As a resident in the area I can assure anybody that those kids will learn all the bad stuff they might have missed so far simply by walking out that front door.
The truth is that I am not only concerned with the kids and the influences they will have to face on South Broad Street while "recovering" from their troubles. (Although the thought alone makes me laugh... WHAT ARE THEY THINKING?). I AM also selfishly concerned about the neighborhood, and eventually about MY well being. How many more messed up people do we really need within a two block radius? We are dealing with burglaries, break ins, car theft, occasional shootings, drugs, noise, gangs and violence on a daily basis here. What if the neighborhood just doesn't need a pack of bored teenagers to add to the list?
As an individual I strongly believe in helping others. I believe that people deserve chances and that it is the duty of the ones who CAN give, to give to the ones in need. We hear TV hosts, Movie Stars and celebrities talk about it all the time... "I used to have nothing... so, once I made it, I felt that I needed to give back". Key words: ONCE I MADE IT.
This neighborhood is so far from "made it", that at this point all this messed up corner can give to troubled teens is a contact list of every dealer, crack addict and criminal in the South Ward. I just don't understand who the hell thought of this! It's like sending your daughter to a whore house, expecting she will come out a nun! Come on, people... THINK!

Check your weaves!!!

I want to encourage all girls (and maybe some drag queens) walking around the South Ward to check their weaves. Some of them are getting thinner by the day. How do I know that? Because I keep finding tracks on the side walk all around the neighborhood. I am not really familiar with the way these things work... Do they just fall off after a certain amount of time, in which case - Wouldn't one notice when a big chunk of hair is missing? Have they been pulled out during a desperate act of self inflicted hair pulling, or did I miss a cat fight that was going on right in front of my house? Is the dropping of weave tracks along my street a modern "Hansel and Gretel" version, in which a girl was led into the woods and left her cheap, synthetic hair pieces so she could find her way back home? I am just very confused about the whole situation.
Anyway... here are my suggestions for every scenario: If you lost them accidentally, here they are; weave 'em in tighter! If you pulled them out yourself in an angry rage, see a therapist (after collecting your hair). If some other girl pulled them off your head in a fight, take your tracks and place them in her boyfriend's car. And if it was Gretel: Please pick them up on your way back! (By the way: Glad you made it home!!!)

Update...

As an update to my post about almost killing our dogs, I have to give credit to the person from the poison- control office we called that night. A few days ago, we had a message from them on our answering machine, asking how Kitry and Fiby (mentioned by name!!!) are doing. I found that very thoughtful.

Art vs. Business

(This was me - before a performance, and midway through taking off my make up after. I like those two pictures - a good friend of mine took them, and was great in capturing the difference between show and reality)

A while ago I had a very interesting conversation with my sister, Alex. When we were kids, we really didn't get along too well. We are very different personalities, and it took us to grow up until we could fully appreciate each others differences. Not that we hated each other... we just didn't understand where the other one was coming from. She liked to play soccer with the boys in the village I ran away from. She is a police woman... I became a ballerina. Need I say more? I also left my parents house to go to ballet school when we were both pretty young, and from then on we really didn't have much of a chance to work things out the way "normal" kids would. Anyway;
I actually remember the turning point in our relationship - it was a letter she sent to me (before either one of us had e-mail) almost ten years ago. She opened a door for us, and I know she agrees when I say that we have become "best friends" from that point on. I love her dearly, am proud of who she is and am lucky to have her as my sister.
So - the conversation I had with her revolved around her concern about me not missing my life as an artist. She was wondering why - after years of being dedicated to ballet - I don't show any signs of sadness about having left my childhood dream and my life as I have lived it for so long.
Hearing her say this made me think. Am I covering things up? Am I hiding my TRUE feelings about the whole situation from myself and from others? Am I even fully aware of the fact that everything I have worked for as a dancer has come to an end? I started thinking about other dancers who have retired, going through rough times while trying to deal with the end of a career and a new start. And of course - thinking about it made me question myself even more. What is wrong with me? Why am I not suffering from withdrawal symptoms?
For the true test, I watched one of my old performances on DVD the other day... and NOTHING! The only thing I was thinking while watching was:"My feet hurt!"
The truth is that there are a lot of reason why I think I am happy about the way things are. For one, I think I did well while I did it. (I am sure there are people out there who think otherwise, but then again - there will always be people who enjoy thinking or talking badly about others, which is more a reflection of them than of me - or so I like to think)
Another reason is that I started this whole thing when I was very young, and have dealt with every aspect of it since I was 12 years old. And while some things got easier as I grew up, other things never really changed. Having some insight into the business world now, there are so many differences, it is hard to count them all. I now realize how unbelievably emotional the life of an artist is - unnecessarily emotional. People argue, people scream, people are jealous, people get mad, people cry, people are on diets and therefor in bad moods, people are on edge from the moment they get up until they go to bed.
Every place I have been - schools, small dance projects, companies - it has been the same thing. I mean; in every other work place, most of the stuff that goes on in theaters would be taken to court! People would quit left and right, and offices would be empty! But from the moment a kid steps into the arts, we get told to shut up and just be happy to be allowed into this school, this choreography or this company. And we do it for the most part! Looking back at my time as a student, I remember classrooms with 18, 19, 20 year old grown guys, who would get yelled at, humiliated and embarrassed in front of an entire studio. Where else would a young man let this happen without throwing his fist in someones face? And why do people feel they have the right to talk to others like that? At an office people make mistakes, get to work late or accidentally mess up their computer! Could you imagine your boss screaming at the top of his lungs at you for all your co- workers to hear? It would be unthinkable!
Of course - living life on such an emotional level is also exciting, and there are millions of reasons why I loved being part of this world. I am not bringing any of this up as an accusation towards anybody in specific. I guess this is just how the dance world functions - and always has. I almost think that without this constant level of adrenaline and emotion, something would be missing. It drives people and makes them do what they never thought they could. But knowing this, everybody has a choice to say "STOP". So at the end, was I too weak to go on any longer? No... if I was too weak, I would have stopped many years ago. I was simply sick of it. Sick of ignoring my body telling me:"I am hurt!" Sick of accepting things that I would never accept outside of the theater. Sick of (and this is my own fault) putting myself down and being quiet out of fear of being kicked out of a school, losing a scholarship, getting on someones shit-list or having a role taken away.
The other interesting thing is that as a dancer you are constantly judged while doing something that cannot really be judged without a doubt. And not only do others judge us... most of all, we judge ourselves. But it is art... not math. Of course, falling flat on your ass is a clear flaw, but when it comes to general performance quality, who's to say for sure how well or poorly one does? It is a matter of opinion. Back to my new job in the none- dance world: At my job now, nobody could tell me:" You aren't doing that great!", because I could reach right into the drawer, pull out my numbers and say:"... Well, let's see what the numbers say!" No emotions! Just facts. And you know what? In the three months at my new job, nobody has cried, nobody was yelled at, nobody had a fit, nobody stormed off in anger and nobody was treated disrespectfully. And yet: The job gets done! How can that be?
As a conclusion to my thoughts about why I am as OK with my retirement as I am, I was simply ready to move on. I love and cherish the memories I have of my past... Walking down the same street back and forth from high school to boarding school; my first performance as a kid in the Stuttgart Opera house; my first modern classes in Munich; moving to NY; getting coached by Merce Cunningham; touring around the world with an extraordinary Company. I look up at the wall in our breakfast room, with a gallery of photos of Manolo and me in front of the Eiffel Tower, the great wall of China, in a London phone booth, on the beach in Hawaii, on stage, in Athens, in Moscow, with a koala in Australia.
I can truly say: No regrets. I am ready for new challenges and tasks, and am as excited about my future as I am about my past.

Another gay thing...

I just turned on the LOGO channel, and am following the discussions about gay marriage in amazement. WOW.
How many people out there call themselves educated, freedom loving, fair, open minded, believers in people's rights?
I like to find simple solutions to simple problems, and my solution to this issue is a simple one: If you don't like what you see, don't look!
Do people seriously think that the number of homosexuals increases or decreases according to the legal status or the overall acceptance? If that were the case, my fellow Germans during WW2 would have put a definite end to us, which they clearly have not. Never was being gay less accepted than during that time, and yet - we never stopped being gay. Looking at the other side of it, legalizing gay marriage would certainly not encourage Silvester Stallone to turn into Ru Paul! What are people thinking? If a teenage boy wants to explore different kinds of sexuality, the taboo of being gay will certainly not discourage him from doing so. And a die- hard straight bully will most definitely not try to "go the other way" just because it became socially acceptable.
The truth is that we will not go anywhere! Like it or not, we are here... planning your weddings, designing your clothes and houses, doing your hair, selling you furniture, grooming your dogs; and to step away from stereo types, we might even read your gas meters, do construction on your homes, fix your cars, act in your favorite movies, or be your married next door neighbor. You might never know it, and you should really not give a damn!
And please... keep the Bible out of it! I think the Bible would jump out of some people's hands if it knew how ignorant, vicious, nasty, negative, intolerant and stupid the creatures holding it, praying by it, and hiding behind it are! None of this could possibly be "God's will"! Who the hell knows about God's will anyway!? Who did He say to: This is wrong!? And how could the "All Mighty" have made the fatal "mistake" of creating gays and lesbians? Is it not a sin to imply that God made a mistake, or do people still think it's our life style choice, rather than something we are born with?
Let me quote Marlene Dietrich, who was heard saying: "The only human flaw I cannot excuse is stupidity." How right she was! The other bad flaw is ignorance - and the combination of both is downright dangerous. Unfortunately, this is exactly what we as gay men and lesbian women are facing when confronted with hatred and discrimination - just like every minority group throughout history.
Few things really upset me. I am a very calm person, who doesn't sweat the small stuff. But listening to people's outrageous opinions and views on a topic that actually involves me and "my people" gets my heart rate going. At least lately.
"People have no idea about the consequences of opening Pandora's Box" - is what one woman just said on TV, defending the sanctity of marriage. And this is when I have to switch the channel, before throwing something at the screen.
When I came out to my mother many years ago, I had a pretty good idea that it was not going to be a big issue. I have said this before - but I don't mind repeating it: I was pretty damn lucky with my family. But prior to my coming out, I still went through years of being nervous about it, wondering how they would take it, what it would do to our relationship and to my parents' feelings towards me. It was a weight on my shoulders that I carried around for a long time, draining and exhausting me. There is nothing worse than spending a life behind walls, hiding your beliefs and denying who you are. The night I had "the talk" with my mom, ... yes... there were tears and questions and initial drama. But funny enough: Around the same time I started smoking, and left my secret cigarette butts on the stairs behind my family's house. After she left my room that night with the truth about my sexuality, she knocked on my door about 20 seconds later, saying: "I forgot to tell you; if you really think you need to smoke, at least throw your cigarettes somewhere else. Your grandparents don't need to find them!" At first I thought how strange it was for her to bring up my smoking at a time like this, but then I realized that it was her way of saying: "It's all good... there are worse things than being gay... I love you... let's focus on the things that matter - like your lungs." And that was the end of it. My mom told me later that she talked to my grandparents about me being gay while my grandma was baking Christmas cookies she was planning to send to me. After my mom broke the news to her, she looked up and said: "I'll still send him his cookies!!!". I love my family! No talking around the bush, no long discussions. Just straight to the point, and moving on. So - when I hear stories about people whose struggle doesn't end, it breaks my heart. And when I hear about people who make their kid's lives hell, and who stick their noses in business that is none of theirs, and when people spread aggression and hatred and negativity against a group of people that does nothing but make the world a better dressed one, I just get mad. I know how much it meant to me to have an "army" of people backing me up, being there for me and standing by my side. Without them, my life would not be the same. And back to the question of acceptance opening Pandora's Box: I doubt that my family encouraged other people to jump on the "gay waggon" by accepting my life the way it happens to be. But it sure is great to know that if another gay one would show up in our home, they would simply keep baking cookies!

Anybody wants a dog?

If you think I am offering one of our Babies, you must be out of your mind! But there is a little dog "living" (I will explain the "" in a second) diagonally across the street from us, who desperately needs a new home.
I remember when those guys first got their little puppy - he was tiny, cute, playful and sweet. A brown, wiry little thing; probably some mix. As time went by, we started seeing him more and more on the sidewalk without a leash or collar. And in the past few weeks the situation clearly got out of control. He seems to spend more time running the streets than in his home, and it is a miracle to me that he has not been hit by a speeding car yet.
I obviously love dogs, but this one is starting to really bug me. I know, I know... it is not his fault. But the fact is that whenever he comes our way, Fiby acts like a little tramp and is impossible to walk. She wants to play (or god knows what) with him, and I can literally see fleas jumping from his hair into hers. Aside from that - there is no more thought of doing her business, because he becomes the main focus of her walk. So here I am... pressured for time to walk my dogs before having to run to work, and here HE is, distracting Fiby from doing what I have trained her to do for months now. And whenever he sees us walk, he follows us the entire walk. There is no shaking him off. We can run, but we cannot hide. Well... those are my selfish problems with the dog across the street. The not-so-selfish problem I have with the situation is the poor little guy, who was clearly brought into the wrong house. Why the hell do people have animals if they can't take proper care of them? I would understand if they had gotten the dog for their kid, who might now be over the initial excitement of having a pup. But there is no kid. It is all adults who like to hang out on their stoop and look at Manolo and me like we are crazy people, walking our well behaved, well taken care of dogs. Twice in the past few weeks I knocked on their door, bringing their dog back who followed us for twenty minutes around the neighborhood. If I am not upset about our peaceful walk being disturbed, I am mostly sad for the dog, who shows clear signs of fleas, skin diseases and hunger.
I sometimes watch "Animal Cops" on TV, and am wondering if such a thing exists in this part of the country!? Since we know who he belongs to, I wished some authority figure could talk some sense into those guys. I really don't want to call animal control, because I don't want them to take him and do god-knows-what to him. He is cute, with only one ear standing up, looking a little clumsy and silly. I could see him being a very sweet pet and making somebody very happy. Unfortunately Manolo and I are fully committed to Shih-Tzu's, and most of all: Fiby has not been spayed, since we are hoping to find a nice SHIH TZU (!!!!!!!) boy for her to have puppies with in the not so far future. The last thing we need is an unplanned pregnancy with an unidentifiable half- stray, and her good reputation is ruined! She is already considered the "Paris Hilton" of the family, and after an affair with "one-ear", no respectable male would look at her twice!
So... If anybody out there wants to be a good parent to a sweet dog, hang out in my neighborhood, and help the little guy out! Obviously his owners are not too eager to have him, and not too concerned about him getting lost to begin with. The next time I see him, I'll try to take a picture of him and post it. He needs help, and he needs it before bugs, disease or a car get the better of him.

I almost killed our dogs!!!

Of course... I didn't willingly almost take our babies lives, but I still feel guilty enough.
The whole thing started last weekend, when Manolo and I noticed that both, Kitry and Fiby were very itchy. We were not quite sure what it was - Mosquito bites in the best case, fleas in the worst case. But whatever it was, it needed treatment, and it needed it NOW. We have - of course - used the flea treatment for Kitry before, and when Manolo told me to get the medication during my next PetCo visit, I thought I knew exactly what he was referring to. He even said: "get the expensive stuff...", and when I approached the anti- insect isle at the pet store the next day, I found "the right thing" within minutes.
As soon as Manolo saw the package, he showed signs of doubt. It was not the brand he was thinking of, and only when he mentioned the TV commercial Betty White does on "Lifetime, television for women" I knew what HE was thinking of. Anyway... how bad could this one be??? I got it at the pet store, for heaven's sake!
That night after dinner, we got one dog after another up on the couch, applied the liquidy stuff on both their necks, and were sure our itch- problem was about to get solved.
Kitry likes to watch TV lying on the couch, and at times Fiby sees this as her chance to play "pull Kitry off the sofa by her hair" - a fun little game that makes us laugh, Fiby happy and Kitry very annoyed. As soon as Fiby started pulling Kitry by her hair that night, I stopped her - knowing that she just grabbed Kitry by the neck hair that was soaked with the medication. I didn't think much of it, and the evening continued quietly.
And than the quiet times ended...!
Kitry was the first to act strangely. She started running through the house, barking at us from wherever she ended up running to. She "led me" to the basement door, and ran down into the dark as soon as I opened the door for her. Once downstairs, she barked again - and for those who know her, you know she never barks! She is a Lady! The symptoms got worse by the minute. Within half an hour she had what appeared to be cramps, making her jump up and scream every time one approached.
Now Fiby started acting out as well... showing the same signs, plus a swollen, burned mouth. In addition to that, she started drooling like a saint Bernard! I have never seen anything like it, and we began to lose our minds with two sick babies on our hands! Both of them got very needy for attention - barking at us as soon as we stopped padding them.
The situation got worse and worse, and it became clear that the four of us were in for a very long night.
At two in the morning Manolo finally called the "poison- control- number" on the back of the flea- medicine box, and it seems that receiving complaints about their product was really nothing new to those guys. The Lady advised us to wash both dogs with dish soap, to get the greasy stuff completely out of their hair and skin. We rushed to the bathroom, and started with Kitry, who HATES baths. To our surprise, she must have realized that this time it will actually be to her benefit to get cleaned, since she cooperated like a pro! While I started blow drying Kitry (a process that takes easily 1.5 hours), Manolo grabbed Fiby and bathed her.
They got better pretty soon after that, but kept us both up until about eight in the morning. Manolo stayed home from work for the morning, and by the time we had to both go they were back to their old selves - with INCREDIBLE hair from the dish soap!
The product we used is called "sentry pro", and I do recommend for all dog owners to stay away from it. Had it been only one of our dogs, I would have believed that it was an allergic reaction to some ingredient. But for both to have the same reaction, I do believe that there is something seriously wrong with the product.
Both of them are well again - we took them to the vet, and he declared them healthy and happy.
A few days later I cooked one of my German dishes - thin slices of beef, seasoned with salt, pepper, garlic and mustard, small pieces of ham, rolled up and cooked. Very, very good. Keeping the roll from opening, I stick a toothpick through the meat. I must have forgotten to tell Manolo about it, because as we ate he started making strange noises and bent over as he was choking on a pointy object.
Needless to say - he now believes that he lives with a serial killer, who first tried to kill his kids, and now moved on to him! It's kind of funny to see him looking at his dinner plate before eating lately! I can see his mind wondering... looking at the food, looking at me... at the food, at me...! It is especially funny if I quote lines like:" Do you still hear the lambs cry, Manolo!?"