Working Girl

This is me now:



That's right. A long-shot teaching job worked out and now I have a real job. This heralds the end of my fake job as an Internet content whore (I thought I'd go one level more disparaging than "content farmer," as we're usually referred to by legions of proper freelance writers who've been put out of work). For 15 to 25 bucks a pop, I was pumping out Pulitzer-worthy articles such as "How To Tell If Your Goat Is Pregnant" and "What Is Female Lubricant?" and "Methods Of Hair Removal." I'm a veritable font of random and useless knowledge (unless anyone has a goat you suspect might be pregnant, then maybe it's not so useless). I can also tell you how to help your Maltese through pregnancy and birth, how to get rid of mange naturally, and exactly why Monsanto is evil, how Roundup pesticide will kill you and how Roundup Ready seeds could very well be the death of us all (listen well, Turkey, since you all agreed to allow them in your country). I'm also an armchair organic lawn specialist.

However, if you ever read somewhere how to get rid of ants with essential oils and vinegar, it's complete rubbish and the Internet is a big fat liar. We had an ant invasion shortly before I went to the US, and the essential oils plus the vacuum did nothing. Granted, when I drew a circle around an ant with lemon oil and a Q-tip, the ant didn't go out of the circle for awhile. But eventually it did get out, and then apparently told all its friends that this house was armed only with essential oil and vinegar. I sent BE to the bakkal for the secret illegal poison after we went to Portland.

Okay, so it wasn't a fake job. It was a WAHM job which everyone thinks is fake but isn't really. It's like when your students tell you "My mother is a housewife," when in fact their mother is a tailor or copy editor or something. It was kind of fun, and very low on the human interaction scale. Stranger writes article and sends it in. Money appears in Stranger's Paypal account. Student loans for expensive MA continue to be paid. Stranger splurges on some sweet computer speakers and plane tickets home and weekly groceries. Etc.

Anyway, I'm wrapping my head around the new job, which all came up rather suddenly. Starts next week. We have to find a new flat and fast, since the job is on the other side of the world, in a gorgeous place where empty Soviet-style high-rises and slowly failing or never-opened malls don't dominate the landscape. I'm trying to focus on the moving part to avoid thinking about the working part.

I tried to explain it to LE. I told him I'm a teacher. He was all, "No you're not, Mama. Eda's a teacher. You Mama." and then he had a good laugh. Then I told him we were moving to a new house, and after establishing that Baba and I and the TV would also be in the new house, he got upset because he wants the new house NOW instead of going to bed. Before he fell asleep, he murmured that he would like the house to be big and blue. So maybe he'll be okay with all this and maybe he won't.

Maybe my new job will let me bring him for show and tell.

We'll see what we can do.

I Couldn't Think of a Title: The Post That Simply Happened

The mosquito spray truck is lingering in the parking lot below my balcony and I'm wondering if I should run around closing all the windows while at the same time watching the neighbors not closing theirs. It's almost 9pm and close to 80 degrees outside. I suddenly was taken with the urge to write something after all this time, but I don't really have a plan in mind, and at any moment BE might saunter through the door to glower at me for not giving him my undivided attention. It's always someone wanting my undivided attention, whether he glowers or uses a more direct approach of going, "Mama! Mama! Mama! Hey Mom! Hey Mom!" Both of them now go, "Oooof, Stranger" when I annoy them.

The mosquito spray is safe, we're assured.

A bunch of English-language channels have suddenly disappeared from our cable service: BBC (news and the crap BBC Prime has become, despite Eastenders, which I haven't watched in ages anyway though the buzz on the yabancı language teacher forum is that Phil is on crack. Hee!) and a few other news stations, including Al-Jazeera. CNN is still there, for what it's worth, which is not much because every time I turn it on, it's either sports or weather. Sometimes it's some boring crap about computers and how amazing they are. A few superficial whirls around the Internet throughout the day have given no explanation where these channels have gone.

But I'm sure there's a very good explanation.

LE was very upset this morning that he couldn't watch Tikabilla. So was I, since it meant I couldn't doze off on the sofa while he watched Tikabilla and ate his Cheerios because he was too busy going, "Mama! Mama! Hey Mom! Hey Mom! Oooof, Stranger yaaaa!

Anyway, I came across this article about Turkey which discusses something I've been saying all along (though not nearly as well as this author) about "truth" and "lying" in Turkish culture, only one of many aspects of this place I fear I will only ever have a superficial and academic grasp of, rather than the visceral understanding I need to ever muddle my way successfully through most negotiations, including my marriage. To be honest, language is really only about 2% of my problem with being able to act what is considered normal and reasonable here. This author then links the cultural quirk to Turkish foreign policy, and I''m all "Yeah, right on," because it's like 80 degrees outside and waxing eloquent is not my strong point at the moment, if it ever has been.

I was going to post the article on Facebook, but then I thought, "No, I've neglected the blog long enough. I'll share it with them." Then I realized this is hardly very meaningful because probably most people who read my blog are my Facebook friends anyway, and most of my Facebook friends are people I know in real life.

Thanks for your patience and understanding, if you're still there.