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Wrekehavoc.com – deus ex mama
Cómo elegir un bono de bienvenida en casinos online sin errores comunes

Cómo elegir un bono de bienvenida en casinos online sin errores comunes

Elegir Un

Elegir un bono de bienvenida sin caer en errores comunes

Los bonos de bienvenida de los casinos online suelen parecer muy sencillos: un porcentaje extra sobre el primer depósito, algunos giros gratis y una cifra grande que llama la atención. Sin embargo, después de revisar condiciones, probar procesos de registro y comparar varias promociones, llegamos a una conclusión bastante clara: el valor real de un bono no está en el importe anunciado, sino en lo que exige para poder retirarlo.

Mientras revisábamos opciones de juego desde móvil, también consultamos la oneplay app para observar cómo se presenta una oferta promocional dentro de una experiencia más cotidiana. Nuestra impresión fue que el formato importa, claro, pero la lectura pausada de los términos importa mucho más. A veces una oferta modesta resulta razonable y una muy vistosa acaba siendo poco práctica.

Idea clave: un bono no es dinero gratis en sentido estricto. Es saldo promocional sujeto a normas, plazos y requisitos que conviene entender antes de depositar.

Qué revisar antes de aceptar la promoción

El primer error común es registrarse, hacer el depósito y pulsar “aceptar bono” sin saber qué se ha activado. Esto puede parecer un detalle menor, pero no lo es. En muchos casinos online, una vez acreditado el bono no siempre se puede cancelar sin perder el saldo promocional, las ganancias asociadas o incluso la posibilidad de hacer un retiro inmediato.

Nosotros comprobamos que la información esencial suele repartirse entre la página de promociones, los términos generales y, en ocasiones, una sección separada de reglas de casino. No siempre está escondida de forma deliberada, aunque a veces da esa sensación. Por eso conviene detenerse antes de pagar y mirar cuatro elementos: el depósito mínimo, el porcentaje de recarga, el máximo bonificado y el requisito de apuesta.

Atención: un “100% hasta 200 €” no significa necesariamente que recibiremos 200 €. Para lograr esa cantidad habría que ingresar 200 €, y después cumplir todas las condiciones aplicables al depósito más al bono.

También revisamos un punto que pasa desapercibido: si la oferta es automática o requiere un código. Parece obvio, pero hay promociones que solo aparecen tras introducir un cupón durante el registro o en la caja de depósito. Perder el código no es grave, aunque puede llevar a tomar una decisión apresurada para “aprovechar” algo que quizá ni siquiera convenía.

Cómo funciona el wagering, explicado sin rodeos

El wagering, también llamado requisito de apuesta o rollover, indica cuánto dinero debemos apostar antes de retirar las ganancias relacionadas con un bono. Es la cifra que separa una oferta aprovechable de una que solo luce bien en el banner. Cuando vimos promociones con multiplicadores altos, por ejemplo x40 o x50, el importe inicial dejó de parecer tan generoso.

Hay una diferencia decisiva entre un wagering aplicado solo al bono y uno aplicado al depósito más el bono. Si ingresamos 50 € y recibimos otros 50 €, un requisito x30 sobre el bono implica apostar 1.500 €. Si se aplica sobre ambos importes, tendremos que mover 3.000 €. La promoción parece idéntica a primera vista, pero no lo es en absoluto.

Ejemplo de oferta Base del wagering Apuesta total necesaria
Depósito 50 €, bono 50 €, x30 Solo bono, 50 € 1.500 €
Depósito 50 €, bono 50 €, x30 Depósito + bono, 100 € 3.000 €
Depósito 20 €, bono 20 €, x20 Solo bono, 20 € 400 €

Durante nuestras comparaciones, nos pareció útil pensar en el wagering como un compromiso de juego, no como una simple cifra legal. Si no tenemos intención de jugar bastante tiempo, o si preferimos conservar libertad para retirar un premio temprano, un bono con condiciones exigentes puede ser una carga. No hay nada malo en rechazarlo.

Además, no todos los juegos contribuyen igual. Las tragamonedas suelen aportar el 100%, mientras que ruleta, blackjack o juegos en vivo pueden aportar un porcentaje reducido, como 10%, 5% o incluso 0%. En términos sencillos, apostar 10 € en ruleta con contribución del 10% puede contar solo como 1 € hacia el requisito. Es fácil pasar este detalle por alto.

  1. Multiplicamos la base indicada, bono o depósito más bono, por el wagering.
  2. Comprobamos qué juegos cuentan al 100% y cuáles están excluidos.
  3. Revisamos el plazo disponible para completar la condición.
  4. Valoramos si esa cantidad de juego encaja de verdad con nuestro presupuesto.

Un pequeño matiz que vimos repetirse: algunos casinos muestran el progreso del wagering en la cuenta, otros no con tanta claridad. Agradecemos cuando existe una barra visible, porque evita cálculos improvisados. Aun así, incluso con un contador, recomendamos guardar una captura de los términos vigentes al aceptar el bono. No por desconfianza automática, sino por orden.

Comparar ofertas sin fijarnos solo en la cifra grande

Una promoción de 500 € puede ser menos útil que una de 50 €. Parece contradictorio, pero sucede con frecuencia. La oferta grande suele exigir un depósito mayor, varios tramos de recarga o requisitos de apuesta más pesados. Si nuestro presupuesto habitual es contenido, perseguir el máximo anunciado puede obligarnos a jugar de una manera que no habíamos planeado.

En nuestras notas, funcionó mejor comparar el coste práctico de cada bono. Para ello no hace falta una hoja de cálculo complicada, aunque ayuda. Basta con preguntarnos cuánto ingresamos realmente, cuánto saldo extra recibimos, cuánto habrá que apostar y cuánto tiempo tenemos. El wagering es importante, pero no trabaja solo.

Factor Oferta más conveniente Señal de cautela
Requisito de apuesta x10 a x25, según el juego x40 o superior
Plazo Varios días, con margen real 24 horas o menos
Apuesta máxima permitida Límite claro y razonable Límite bajo poco visible
Retirada máxima Sin tope o tope transparente Tope reducido para ganancias

No queremos dar a entender que un x35 sea siempre malo o que un x20 garantice una buena experiencia. El catálogo de juegos, la licencia, la rapidez de pagos y la atención al usuario cambian bastante el resultado. Pero, como regla de partida, una oferta sencilla y bien explicada suele inspirarnos más confianza que una campaña llena de pasos, niveles y excepciones.

La letra pequeña que suele cambiarlo todo

La letra pequeña no es un enemigo, aunque muchas veces se presenta de una manera poco cómoda. Es el lugar donde encontramos las condiciones que determinan si una promoción será manejable. Al revisar varios bonos, detectamos que los detalles más relevantes no siempre aparecen junto al porcentaje principal.

Uno de ellos es la apuesta máxima durante el bono. Si el casino limita cada jugada a 5 € y apostamos 10 €, podríamos incumplir las reglas, incluso si la apuesta parecía normal para nuestro saldo. Otro es el límite de ganancia retirable. Algunos bonos, especialmente los de giros gratis o sin depósito, permiten retirar solo hasta una cantidad concreta.

No conviene asumir nada: si el bono menciona giros gratis, hay que comprobar en qué tragamonedas se usan, durante cuánto tiempo y si las ganancias de esos giros también tienen wagering.

También revisamos los métodos de pago excluidos. Algunas plataformas no permiten optar al bono mediante determinados monederos electrónicos, tarjetas prepago o depósitos con ciertas soluciones bancarias. Otras aceptan el pago, pero luego aplican reglas distintas a la retirada. Este punto puede resultar frustrante cuando se descubre después de depositar.

  1. Leemos el plazo exacto, no solo la palabra “válido”.
  2. Buscamos el límite por apuesta mientras el bono esté activo.
  3. Confirmamos los juegos permitidos y su porcentaje de contribución.
  4. Verificamos si existe una retirada máxima de ganancias.
  5. Comprobamos la compatibilidad con nuestro método de depósito preferido.

Hay un detalle menos llamativo, pero importante: la verificación de identidad. En casinos online regulados es normal que soliciten documentos antes de procesar una retirada. No debería sorprendernos, aunque sí es preferible completar el proceso cuanto antes. Desde nuestra experiencia de revisión, esperar a tener ganancias para verificar la cuenta añade tensión innecesaria.

Cuándo merece la pena aceptar un bono de bienvenida

Un bono puede tener sentido si ya pensábamos depositar, si entendemos las reglas y si el volumen de apuesta requerido encaja con nuestra forma habitual de jugar. Es decir, no debería dictar nuestro comportamiento. Si el bono nos empuja a gastar más, a jugar deprisa o a prolongar una sesión que ya no resulta cómoda, probablemente ha dejado de ser una ventaja.

Nos pareció especialmente razonable aceptar ofertas con requisitos moderados, condiciones visibles y juegos que realmente nos interesen. Los giros gratis pueden ser agradables para probar una tragamonedas concreta, pero no deberían convertirse en el motivo principal para abrir una cuenta. A veces aportan poco valor económico, aunque sí sirven para conocer la interfaz o la volatilidad de un juego.

En cambio, quizá convenga jugar con dinero real sin bono, o no jugar, cuando buscamos poder retirar cualquier ganancia sin esperar, cuando el wagering es alto o cuando el plazo nos obliga a tomar decisiones rápidas. Renunciar a una promoción puede sentirse como perder una oportunidad. En realidad, muchas veces es solo elegir flexibilidad.

Conclusión

Conclusión: elegir un bono de bienvenida en un casino online sin errores comunes depende menos de encontrar la cantidad más alta y más de leer con calma. Tras comparar promociones, vimos que el mejor bono suele ser el que podemos explicar en una frase: sabemos cuánto depositamos, cuánto recibimos, cuánto debemos apostar y qué límites existen. Si una oferta necesita demasiadas excepciones para parecer buena, probablemente no era tan buena. Jugar con un presupuesto definido, comprobar la licencia del operador y no perseguir pérdidas sigue siendo más importante que cualquier promoción.

Rewievs de nuestro equipo

Como equipo editorial, valoramos mejor las promociones transparentes que las enormes. Nuestra revisión conjunta dejó tres impresiones bastante consistentes: agradecemos una explicación clara del wagering, desconfiamos de las condiciones repartidas en demasiados enlaces y preferimos bonos que no penalicen una retirada razonable. Puede que otra persona priorice más los giros gratis o el importe máximo, y es válido. Para nosotros, la claridad es el primer indicador de una experiencia de casino online más cómoda.

La recomendación final es sencilla: antes de aceptar, leer; antes de depositar, calcular; y antes de perseguir un bono, decidir si realmente encaja con el presupuesto disponible. Esa pequeña pausa evita la mayoría de los errores que encontramos al analizar ofertas de bienvenida.

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Apuesta con criterio en mercados deportivos y encuentra valorestrategias sólidas

Apuesta con criterio en mercados deportivos y encuentra valorestrategias sólidas

Apuesta Con

Apuesta con criterio en mercados deportivos

Cuando probamos una casa de apuestas online, el punto de partida no es acertar un resultado espectacular, sino entender si una cuota compensa el riesgo que asumimos. En nuestras sesiones de prueba revisamos mercados de fútbol, tenis, baloncesto y deportes más rápidos, comparando la información disponible, la navegación y los pequeños detalles que suelen pasar desapercibidos. Al explorar rabona, por ejemplo, nos interesó más la organización de los eventos que la promesa de una apuesta fácil, porque ahí suele empezar una decisión razonable.

La expresión “encontrar valor” aparece mucho en las apuestas deportivas y, a veces, se usa casi como un eslogan. Después de contrastar cuotas y seguir partidos completos, nuestra impresión fue algo más sobria: el valor no garantiza ganar hoy, ni mañana. Significa que creemos que la probabilidad real de un hecho es mayor que la probabilidad implícita en la cuota. Parece sencillo escrito así. Aplicarlo, ya no tanto.

Una cuota atractiva no es necesariamente una buena apuesta. Lo es únicamente cuando nuestra estimación, basada en datos y contexto, resulta más alta que la que propone el mercado.

Qué entendemos por encontrar valor

Durante las pruebas evitamos empezar por el pronóstico que “nos gusta”. Es una trampa bastante común: vemos a nuestro equipo favorito, recordamos dos buenos partidos y buscamos una cuota que confirme esa sensación. Preferimos hacer el recorrido al revés. Primero observamos datos básicos, bajas, calendario, estilo de juego y situación competitiva. Solo después miramos el precio que ofrece la plataforma.

En fútbol, una cuota de 2.00 equivale aproximadamente a una probabilidad implícita del 50%. Si tras revisar el encuentro creemos que el resultado tiene una opción real del 56%, hay una diferencia interesante. No significa que vaya a salir. De hecho, puede perder perfectamente. Pero repetida en un número suficiente de apuestas similares, esa pequeña diferencia es la clase de ventaja que buscamos identificar.

Nuestro criterio compartido fue simple: si no somos capaces de explicar en dos o tres frases por qué una cuota parece mal ajustada, probablemente no tenemos una apuesta, solo una intuición.

La diferencia entre una predicción y una cuota útil

Predecir que un equipo ganará es una cosa. Decidir que merece la pena respaldarlo a una cuota concreta es otra. Podemos pensar que un favorito vence, pero si la cuota es demasiado baja quizá no haya valor. Esto se nota mucho en partidos de ligas populares, donde el mercado suele estar muy vigilado y las líneas se ajustan deprisa.

También vimos que conviene aceptar cierta incomodidad. Algunas de las apuestas con mejor argumento no parecen las más emocionantes. Un asiático conservador, una línea de córners o una opción de doble oportunidad puede tener más sentido que una combinada de cuota enorme. No luce igual en una captura de pantalla, claro, pero el objetivo no debería ser impresionar a nadie.

Cuotas, probabilidades y margen de la casa

Las cuotas no representan una verdad absoluta. Reflejan una estimación de mercado y añaden el margen de la casa. Por eso, antes de comparar dos partidos, nos pareció útil traducir mentalmente algunos precios a porcentajes. No hace falta convertir cada cifra con exactitud matemática, aunque tener una referencia evita decisiones muy precipitadas.

Cuota decimal Probabilidad implícita aproximada Lectura práctica
1.50 66,7% El mercado ve un favorito claro.
2.00 50% Escenario equilibrado, al menos sobre el papel.
3.00 33,3% Resultado posible, pero menos esperado.
5.00 20% Opción de riesgo alto, no necesariamente sin valor.

Al revisar una plataforma, también comprobamos si las cuotas cambian de forma clara, si el boleto de apuesta informa bien del posible retorno y si se explica qué ocurre ante una suspensión, una prórroga o un jugador retirado. Son asuntos poco glamourosos, pero determinan mucho la experiencia. Una interfaz limpia ayuda, sobre todo cuando seguimos varios encuentros a la vez y no queremos confirmar una selección equivocada.

Cómo seguimos el fútbol antes y durante el partido

Para el fútbol, nuestro método fue menos rígido de lo que parece. Miramos la clasificación, sí, pero una tabla aislada dice poco. Un equipo puede venir de enfrentarse a rivales muy fuertes, tener varias ausencias o reservar jugadores para una competición europea. A veces el mercado lo descuenta de inmediato; otras veces tarda un poco, especialmente en encuentros de menor repercusión.

Antes del inicio solemos revisar una mezcla de factores. No todos pesan igual y, de hecho, algunos se contradicen. Un conjunto puede crear muchas ocasiones y, al mismo tiempo, defender mal las transiciones. Eso nos hace evitar conclusiones rotundas. Es mejor describir el partido que intentar adivinarlo como si hubiera una fórmula cerrada.

  • Alineaciones confirmadas, sanciones y lesiones de última hora.
  • Carga de partidos, viajes, rotaciones y objetivo competitivo.
  • Producción ofensiva reciente, pero sin obsesionarnos con una racha corta.
  • Estilo de ambos equipos, especialmente presión, balón parado y ritmo habitual.

El directo no sustituye al análisis previo

Seguir un encuentro en vivo puede aportar información que las estadísticas previas no contienen. Vimos partidos donde un mediocentro tocado condicionaba toda la salida de balón, o donde un delantero parecía desconectado pese a que su equipo dominaba. Sin embargo, el directo también invita a reaccionar de más. Un córner peligroso o diez minutos de presión pueden hacernos pensar que el gol es inevitable. Normalmente no lo es.

Por eso nos funcionó separar observación y acción. Primero seguimos el ritmo, los cambios tácticos y la calidad de las ocasiones. Luego revisamos la cuota. Si el precio ha cambiado mucho sin una razón clara, quizá hay una oportunidad. Si se ha movido porque el partido realmente ha cambiado, entrar tarde puede ser una mala idea, aunque la pantalla parezca tentadora.

En apuestas en directo, la velocidad importa, pero la calma importa más. Una apuesta omitida suele costar menos que una decisión tomada por impulso.

Otros deportes y mercados menos evidentes

Al ampliar la prueba a tenis y baloncesto, notamos que el enfoque cambia. En tenis, el estado físico, la superficie y el calendario reciente pesan muchísimo. Un jugador puede tener un ranking superior y, aun así, llegar con poca adaptación a la pista o tras un partido larguísimo. En baloncesto, las bajas y el ritmo de posesiones alteran mercados de puntos con bastante más fuerza de lo que parece al mirar solo la clasificación.

Los mercados secundarios requieren todavía más paciencia. Props de jugadores, saques de esquina, tarjetas o estadísticas de sets pueden resultar interesantes cuando se conoce bien el contexto, pero también tienen límites, menor liquidez y reglas específicas. Durante nuestras comprobaciones leímos las condiciones de liquidación antes de apostar, no después. Parece obvio, aunque no siempre se hace.

Deporte Dato que revisamos primero Mercado que exige cautela
Fútbol Alineaciones y contexto competitivo Goleadores y combinadas extensas
Tenis Superficie y desgaste reciente Resultado exacto por sets
Baloncesto Bajas, minutos y ritmo Rendimiento individual sin confirmar titulares

Gestión del saldo y experiencia de plataforma

Encontrar una cuota interesante sirve de poco si el tamaño de la apuesta no tiene sentido. En nuestras notas usamos importes pequeños y constantes como referencia, no porque exista una cifra universal, sino porque así es más fácil evaluar decisiones sin que una mala racha condicione todo el saldo. Subir la cantidad para recuperar una pérdida nos pareció, una vez más, el atajo más caro.

También revisamos elementos prácticos de una casa online: métodos de ingreso y retirada, verificación de cuenta, límites configurables, acceso al historial y claridad de los bonos. Un bono puede ser útil, pero no debería decidir dónde apostamos. Hay que mirar requisitos de apuesta, mercados excluidos, cuota mínima y plazos. Si las condiciones son difíciles de entender, nuestra recomendación prudente es no asumir que son favorables.

  • Definir un presupuesto de ocio que no afecte a gastos esenciales.
  • Registrar apuesta, cuota, motivo y resultado para detectar errores repetidos.
  • Usar límites de depósito o tiempo si la actividad deja de ser entretenida.
  • No perseguir pérdidas ni convertir una mala tarde en una sesión más larga.

Una rutina realista para apostar mejor

Tras probar distintos enfoques, nos quedamos con una rutina bastante sencilla. Elegimos pocos eventos, hacemos una primera lectura sin mirar las cuotas y luego comparamos precios entre los mercados disponibles. Si no aparece una diferencia clara, no apostamos. Puede sonar poco emocionante, pero reduce esa necesidad de tener acción en cada partido televisado.

También dejamos espacio para reconocer que podemos estar equivocados. Un análisis serio no elimina la varianza, los errores arbitrales, una lesión en el minuto cinco o un gol extraño que cambia por completo el guion. Las apuestas deportivas no son una fuente segura de ingresos y conviene tratarlas como entretenimiento con presupuesto limitado. Cuando se entiende eso, seguir un partido vuelve a sentirse más ligero y, curiosamente, se analiza mejor.

Nuestra idea final es bastante moderada: apostar con criterio consiste en comparar, esperar y aceptar que incluso una buena decisión puede tener un mal resultado. La disciplina se nota más en lo que descartamos que en lo que jugamos.

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Writer in Motion – Week Four

Writer in Motion – Week Four

The week in which I post the version after receiving helpful critiques from an editor. Big thanks to Justine Manzano for her helpful thoughts on my work! I especially appreciate what she did, as most of the people in the group wrote short stories. I, on the the hand, decided to imagine the start of a novel. That’s something altogether different.

And before I continue, another big thanks for the RewriteIt Club for posting an interview with me this week! Not scary at all, er, was it!?

Anywho… Justine made some helpful suggestions.

  1. Some extraneous info in the second para;
  2. A grammatical oops in the third para; and, most importantly
  3. We have character growth, but we don’t see any motivation. So we know that Cami has been into Ben, and that she has been going through this ritual of watching him while she’s there, and aside from watching a couple make out, we really don’t get any sense of what has shifted that makes her decide that she’ll speak to him.

Yeah, that number 3 comment made me think a bit.  So I ended up with this. Here’s hoping it works.

Continue reading “Writer in Motion – Week Four”

i’m baa-aaack

i’m baa-aaack

did you miss me?

so yeah. as mark twain once wrote, “reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.” (have mercy!) while i have been blogging in one way or another since 2002 (which is like when dinos walked the earth, or some such), i took a break a few years ago. i wrote a few things, like

this

and this

and this

and this

and, well, you get the picture.

but for those of you who i am just meeting because of Writers In Motion, well howwww-DEE! feel free to kick the tires around here, though realize that i have a potty mouth AND i have historically written sans capital letters on my site (because i can). (and if that’s annoying, rest assured that my draft will use CAPITALS. and PUNCTUATION. and stuff. because i know the rules. i just like to break them from time to time.)

i am very excited to be taking part in this process where i am going to magically conjure up a draft which will likely be in SERIOUS need of TLC…and will shape it up, right before your eyes, with a little help from my friends.

so now, to think about this photo…

 

 

silly love songs

silly love songs

some people want to fill the world with silly love songs.

in this week’s new yorker, rebecca mead is wringing her hands over what she calls the percy jackson problem. for those of you who don’t have kids in the house,  here’s some 411:  percy jackson is the wacky protagonist of a series of books by (beloved-in-my-house) rick riordan. percy is a kid who has ADHD and behavioral problems in school — you know, that PITA kid whom every teacher wants to dropkick out the nearest window? percy, we also find out early in the series, is a greek demigod (which is part of the reason he struggles so.) through his adventures, kids (and the adults who read to them) often get their appetite whetted for the magical world of mythology.

so what’s so bad about percy? to paraphrase mead’s argument, between the use of slangy-current pop language and milieus and the less-than-deep storylines, folks in this camp are terrified that books like those in the percy jackson series are a gateway drug to a lifelong obsession with literary dross.  they believe that consuming these sorts of works results in less critical readers. in other words, popular fiction is dumbing down the world for kids.

(for those of you keeping score, this is #25,689 in the ways in which you are screwing up as a parent.)

when i was growing up, my mother took me to the library two and three times a week. no exaggeration here. the librarians knew us at both the ocean county library and the now-defunct bishop memorial library. if there were a 12-step program for bookaholics, my mother would be the queen and reigning champ. any time she has had a spare minute, her nose is in a book. if i woke up at ungodly o’clock a.m. as a kid, i’d usually find my mom,  black coffee and a romance or a mystery in hand. she has always been, and always will be, a book pusher. (ask my kids.) mom always had one rule at the library: take out whatever you want, but you need to actually read it.

now i still recall the day that dennis, the long-haired librarian at the ocean county library, stopped my nine-year-old self trying to take out romeo and juliet, god bless you mr. rosewater, and war and peace. he looked at me squirrelly, then asked my mom whether she had actually seen what i was taking out of the library. (please don’t ask me why i had made those selections. it seemed like a good idea at the time.)

are you sure you want wreke taking out these books? he asked my mom.

she looked at me with the seriousness of an executioner. are you going to read them, wreke? she asked. i nodded that i would, in fact, tackle all three within the three allotted weeks i would be granted. she then looked at dennis. let’s take them out, then.

(the only one of the three i finished was romeo and juliet. in high school. kicking and screaming by then.)

yep, mom always let me read anything i wanted to read. there was the phase when i exclusively read partridge family and archie comic books. there was my sue barton, student nurse phase. there was every single book about the beatles phase. (that one is still in progress.) and of course, there was the time in seventh grade where i chose soul on ice for a book report. (i still wonder if my english teacher ever recovered from that one.)

in short, there have been plenty of generations of people reading all sorts of things — and somehow, we still continue to get great literature, great music, and great works of art. we all develop in weird and wonderful ways; and part of that is because we each receive such weird and wonderful input from all directions — from our families, from our friends, from our worlds — and of course, from our books. i know there are plenty of baby boomers who grew up reading all kinds of crap under the covers, and yet here we are. so please, get the hell off the backs of the younger generations. with all the other temptations out there, electronic and otherwise, it is difficult enough to get them to read. there will be plenty of time to refine things once they have caught the bug.

in the meantime (and with sincerest apologies to malcolm x), we need to get kids reading by any means necessary. i am not above enticing my kids’ interest in books however i can do it. i have read any number of silly things to them when they were little — i wanted them to just hear the words and love the sounds. over time, i would read chapter books that i thought sounded fun until they were old enough to make their own choices. i admit, though, that when they are a captive audience in the car with me driving four hours to see family, i break out books on CD that i get from my local library.  and they listen.

meanwhile, back in percy land… while waiting for percy jackson’s book five to come out, jools was jonesing for some riordan to read. we made a trek to central library, where we discovered that riordan has also written books… for GROWNUPS.  the boy borrowed mission road, a novel about a private eye trying to solve a murder. sure, it wasn’t his usual fare. but for a boy who loathes reading, he actually read it. granted, he was especially thrilled because there were CURSE WORDS! and INAPPROPRIATE THINGS! in the book. but you know what? he was reading.

what’s wrong with that? i’d like to know.

oxford comma

oxford comma

clearly, this bullshit did not end in the ’80s. pity that.

recently, i was talking with another parent about college. he was pretty insistent about his child going into engineering. now, nevermind he has no idea whether his child has any interest or inclination toward engineering (and science in general): that is what said child will be pursuing in a few years.  if his child is not interested in becoming some sort of engineer, then said kid can pay his way through school. this parent will not be contributing toward something stupid and useless like an english degree, for example.

(you know, the degree i happen to hold.)

when i was a college kid in the go-go 1980s, it was tough to be an english major, especially when you were child #3 following child #1 (a doctor) and child #2 (computer science dude.) and here i was, in love with language and meaning and, to be honest, writers in the earlyish part of the twentieth century. preferably, but not exclusively, women. oh, and usually american.  and i often answered the barrage of questions which really boiled down into one: what will you do with that english degree?

indignantly, i did what any self-respecting women’s college editorial editor would do: i wrote what ended up being my most popular column in college. who’s afraid of liberal arts? was so popular that it was actually reprinted. (evidently, i was not the only person with this conundrum.) i was tired of people asking me when i was going to get a real major, a pre-professional major. i was tired of people asking me if i sat and made daisy chains, too.  “i am sure,” i wrote, “that somewhere, someone in my family is squirreling away an English Major Fund so that when i’m big and in the real world, i will have a financial supplement.”

didn’t happen.

and, being pedantic in the way only a 21 year old lit student could be, i quoted john henry cardinal newman from the idea of a university noting that education should be for it’s own sake in order to help you grow as a person. education should be:

something intellectual, something which grasps what it perceives through the senses; something which takes a view of things; which sees more than the senses convey; which reasons upon what it sees, and while it seeks, which invests it with an idea.

i argued that it was easier to live with yourself when you were someone and not some thing. it is difficult to change gears if you make yourself narrow; but the study of liberal arts broadens you and makes you more of an intellectual utility infielder. in short, it helps you adapt.

decades later, i am glad i chose the path i did. yes, i went on to graduate school and specialized; but when i wanted more than what a career in that specialization offered, i duck and dove into something completely different: i crashed into the early days of the internet. on my interview, my boss showed me how to build something and then asked me, the english major, to build it. i froze at first (i’m an english major, remember?), then slowly attempted to make things happen as he had done.

and i messed up.

but, i took a deep breath, backed up, and tried something else. which worked. (mercifully.) and i got the job.

later, i asked my boss: why did you hire me when i messed up on the interview?

his reply? you backed up and figured it out. i need people who know how to think and who can learn. (it was a new industry at the time.) i don’t need specialists: it’s a new field and there are none.  (in 1995, there really weren’t.)

so yeah. english major here. english major who has developed and built web properties. who has done research studies in education policy. who has performed regression analysis. who has put together several major events, uniting cabinet level secretaries and their entire departments in the process. who masters the world and delivers it daily to her family. (note: i am still a crappy cook. but so far, i have not killed anyone.)  i’ve changed careers plenty, and now, i get to do what i always loved best: writing.

i’m not starving. i’m monitoring my world and changing with it as needed. i can write cogently (most of the time.) i can think. maybe i can’t fuse my identity to some specific career, but actually, i like being stealthy like that. and i’ll be damned if i make my kids tether themselves to a pre-professional course of studies unless it is the course they choose. sure, there are consequences in all choices, but should they be the deciders of their destinies? i think so.

so to that parent who is willing to carrot-and-stick his kid’s future with his own demands? maybe you need to be squirreling away a Therapy For My Kid fund.

oh. and while i am not using capital letters in my blog,  for the record: i do give a fuck about the Oxford comma.

immigrant song

immigrant song

scared little faces peering out from buses at hostile, snarling grownups. what must they be thinking?

loads of children are making a perilous journey, sans parents, to the united states. most are coming from honduras, guatemala, el salvador, and mexico. we can talk all day long, i’m sure, about our immigration policy and how problematic it remains — while we don’t all agree on what should be done, we all, with the possible exception of the US Congress, realize that something must be done to improve the situation. and until they figure things out, we as a nation continue to show our both best and our worst side to the world. i admit i was intrigued by a thread i had read about what sort of parents let their children travel alone to a foreign nation. who in their right mind would put young children in the care of people they don’t even know and hope that they make it to their destination in one piece.

i know exactly the sort: my great-grandparents.

my great-grandfather aron katz was born in 1879 and married rose kogan between 1899-1901 in odessa, russia. aron was a tailor and they were not well-to-do. to put it mildly, things in russia were not great for anyone at that time but particularly not for jews, who were routinely persecuted and often killed. he, rose, and the two youngest children — sam and my grandmother belle — emigrated to the united states in march of 1913. oddly enough, they did not come through ellis island as most did. at the time, a lot of people in the US were pretty hostile to all those jews coming in. instead, my great-grandparents were caught up in the galveston movement, which essentially lasted from 1907-1914 and was an effort to disperse the jewish immigrant population throughout the united states by bringing them in through the port of galveston, texas.

on the manifest of the SS cassel, the ship they came to the United States on in march of 1913, their destination is listed as kansas city, missouri.  now i have no knowledge of whether they ever made it to kansas city; however, we know that by november 1913, they were living on the lower east side of new york. when i was in college, i completed an oral history of my grandmother’s life — and i still remember her telling me that her father was a tailor — and oy! could you imagine a jewish tailor in galveston, tx? she told me that they somehow made their way up the mississippi and then eastward where their relatives lived on the lower east side of manhattan. but we know that they had made their way because in november 1913, they had an important delivery to receive.

because they were not wealthy, my great-grandparents could only afford the fare for their two youngest children. their two oldest stayed behind with relatives until they were able to raise the fare for them to come over. in november 1913, those two children came to america on the ship grosser kurfurst. my great-aunt lillian (or liebe) was 11 years old, and her brother max (or mordechai) was 10. imagine being a child and taking a journey to a place you had never been? according to my cousin ilene (lily’s daughter), her mother had recounted how terrifying and awful the trip had been.  her mother was especially frightened by all the drunken sailors on board. i can only wonder what she dealt with as the elder child in charge — and only at age 11. somehow, though, after a long time fending for themselves on board, lily and max made it to new york, where they were reunited with the rest of their family.

so what kind of parents would put their children in harm’s way? what kind of parent would take young kids and have them fend for themselves among unscrupulous adults who might take terrible advantage of them — or worse? i can imagine exactly the kind of parents — very desperate ones. my great-grandparents lived in a place where they faced peril regularly.  they knew they had to get somewhere safe for their family’s sake. i can only imagine how it killed them a little bit to leave two of their kids behind. they crossed their fingers that the children would be cared for and, once the money was raised, they would send for them, too. i wish i had had a chance to talk to my great-aunt about her trip. knowing that jews were not exactly welcomed when they arrived, i’m sure their initial experience in america was probably not too pleasant; but i can figure that anything had to have been better than a pogrom so they were going to make it work here no matter what.

thinking about this experience sheds light on what mothers and fathers in dangerous places such as honduras must be thinking. they scrape every little bit of money they have and borrow what they don’t and send their children to a place where they hope their children can somehow be protected from their current daily misery. the situation has to be pretty bad for a parent to send her child off with strangers in the hope that somewhere else is better than the child’s current environment.

so whatever you might think about immigration policy, think twice before you impugn the fitness of parents of these children because they send their kids off to america. faced with the same choices, we all might do the same thing. instead, while the immigration situation gets sorted, why not treat the children as you would hope strangers would treat yours?

in the end, human nature is human nature, whether you’re in central america, russia, the united states, or anywhere else parents and children exist.

pink

pink

the tide goes in. the tide goes out.

this morning, i made the trek out to washington radiology. i failed my mammogram on my birthday 6 months ago and, happy birthday to me, ended up with a biopsy. as is my medical custom, i stumped the experts; they didn’t see anything malignant, but they were also puzzled by the quantity of lymphoid tissue in the sample. i told the doctor that perhaps i have a lot of lymphoid tissue because i have all sorts of lymphatic fun thanks to my underlying immune deficiency. i mean, my lymph nodes react when i have an infection, when i drink hot and sour soup, and because the moon might be in the 7th house and jupiter is aligning with mars. you just never know.  so hey, c’mon back in 6 months and we’ll take another looksee under the hood, okay?

like i’d say no?

my mom has lost both breasts to cancer and mercifully, she continues to be a major pain in my ass 30+ years after the fact. but thanks to that little tidbit of medical history, i go ping whenever the subject of family history and breast cancer comes up in a doctor’s office. mom recently underwent the testing to see whether she had the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes and tested negative. well, yeah, that’s awesome, and i celebrated, thinking there’s one less thing potentially wrong with me genetically… except i learned, mid-biopsy, that there are loads of other BRCA genes, so there’s always the chance… which then made me want to scream at the doctor who shared that info why on Dog’s Green Earth bother with testing then? except, at that particular moment, the doctor had just cut into me with a very sharp scalpel, and also, there was that little matter of blood literally splattering across my chest, just like in the movies. it was pretty cool, actually, except for the fact that it was my chest and my blood.

maybe next time, i will ask to be put under.

anyway, so back i went today. i was a little perplexed by the fact that i was being charged for a full mammogram (plus the extra $50  for a 3D mammogram, which isn’t covered by insurance but which would probably make a hell of a slideshow at a party.) only one side was getting the excruciating glamour treatment. but the woman behind the desk who seems to repeat the same spiel over and over all day to women of all ages and sizes and races told me nope, no discount for one boob. ah well. you pays yer money and you takes yer choices. when i was finally taken out back and shot, i had a lovely lady who was a wonderful smoosh-o-grammer. after the smoosh, she led me to a room to wait for the doctor.

now, let me tell you about this room. when you are doing your annual mammogram and you have never had any troubles to speak of, they take you back to the closet they stuff you in little changing room where you first got into your little brown gown (open in the front, no deodorant, no lotions, no creams please.) there, you wait for the technician who performed your mammogram to come in, tell you that you passed again, get your clothes on, and make your way up the road to the mosaic district, where you can dine on fine food and shop at neiman marcus last call go home.  the event passes like a tiny bump in your road. but then, there’s the room. there are magazines. there’s a box of tissues. there’s an HD TV against the wall playing a video of the ocean tide coming in and the tide rolling out. it’s a little haven of medical office zen. if there was a giant glass bottle of cucumber spa water in the corner and mani/pedis, it might not be such a horrible place. but it is a horrible place.

it’s the place where women like me go.

it is the holding pen for the women who have failed their mammograms, a sort of  purgatory. it is the place you go when an actual doctor has to talk to you about your results. women like me end up there because we have failed before. women who are new to failure end up there as well. and somehow, that oceanic video is supposed to be a positive, peaceful life buoy. today, though, as i marched into the room, i saw a young woman, probably around 30 or so. at first, all i could see was her blonde hair sprouting out of a head that was bobbing and heaving between her knees.  i bit my lip. clearly, the girl had had some sort of shock, and no amount of azure waves was going to help her.

i walked across the room and grabbed a tissue. i tried to not look at her at first, as i didn’t want to completely intrude,  but merely extended my hand near her arm, gently brushing the tissue against her elbow. i figured if she wanted it, she would take it; if she didn’t, she would ignore me and that would be just fine. you never really know what people want or need at times like these; but i cannot look away from it, either. she picked up her head, gratefully took the tissue, and said thanks  and tried to smile. she wiped her face off, but then a fresh flood came and she put her head down again. reflexively, i started to rub and pat her shoulder, much as i do with my children when they are crying. i don’t generally make a habit of touching total strangers, especially ones who are in terrible pain; but i just didn’t want her to feel alone. i wanted her to know that other people will care about what happens to her, people she knows and loves. if even a total stranger cares, then her loved ones will surely embrace and comfort her, too.

i wanted her to know that maybe something awful was in store for her, but there was also love in her future, too.

she would try to stop crying and pick her head up and smile at me. i smiled back. but then, she would cry again, and her head would once again duck down. i patted her some more til she calmed down. she had just picked her head up when the nurse came in to call her. miss s, the nurse said,  you will need more pictures and then the doctor will see you to talk more. come with me. my new friend miss s picked her head up and looked at me. hang in there was all i could muster. she smiled weakly, and i nodded and smiled back.

my turn came soon. the technician walked me into my little changing cubicle, which i thought was a good sign. after all, i had my biopsy news in the sonogram room, not in the little closets. the doctor came in, told me that the area where the biopsy was done 6 months ago had shrunk, and she didn’t see anything scary. nothing at all. so go on out and treat yourself, she said, smiling. i guess she likes to give good news. when you hit the point where you are sent to the room to talk with the doctor, your talks don’t always go so well, i guess. she’s probably as happy as i am. or close. i whipped off that brown gown and headed out, with big plans to walk around the mosaic district. that was going to be my treat. i walked past the room where i had waited. no one was sitting there. miss s was somewhere else, hopefully getting better news, hopefully sitting in a changing cubicle finding out that she, too, was going to bump into me at a more pleasant place. like say, neiman marcus’s last call. i will always hope so, and i will always wonder about miss s. but all i saw in that room was the ocean video, playing on a never-ending loop in high def.

the tide goes in. the tide goes out.

 

in memory of my friend syrentha savio.

my city of ruins

my city of ruins

it sure feels that way this morning.

yeah, i know. on a week when we remember the tremendous shock and loss of life of 9/11; when flood waters are ravaging colorado; and when people the world over are being tortured and killed, you might think: boo-fucking hoo. seaside park businesses are on fire. so what?

sleazeside, as we townies affectionately call it, is an integral part of my childhood and my psyche. yeah, so all of america thinks we are snooki and the situation and spray-tanned, classless people like that. but those people aren’t even from the shore. those people are the bennies, the tourists who come to town and who make us locals often laugh and cry at the same time for their outrageous NY/North Jersey buffoonery. we loved them because they kept the shore alive with cash and spirit, but wow, they were brasher than we locals.

but we locals love the boards, too. as a very little girly, i loved riding the choo choo and the carousel. every year, one of the highlights of my day camp career was the day we were given our ticket book and had free reign (or so it felt) to ride rides, stuff ourselves full of kohrs custard, and lose our quarters playing the wheels. as i grew older, i spent so many nights with my oldest brother, getting some (at the time) cheap slices of pizza and some grape drink from the sawmill, then playing pinball for hours.  we also hit the waterslides — there was rainbow rapids, away from the boards and closer to the mathis bridge, which i didn’t like because my legs always got all cut up on the fiberglass. and there was another waterslide i loved, right off the boards, where you felt like one wrong slip and you’d end up on the pavement, a few stories below.

sometimes for me, it felt like a tiny taste of freedom. my parents would not allow me to work there, but they did let me go and breathe in the tar, the ocean, and the zeppoles. i remember endlessly walking up and down the boards, looking at all the people who seemed to have lives well underway. mine seemed like it would never begin. then again, there were lives getting destroyed there as well; people getting into fights, people getting into trouble underneath the boards in more ways than my teenaged brain could imagine. the most trouble i could get into was getting a gaggle of friends to line up at the game where you squirt water into the clown’s mouth and, when the bell went off to start the contest, everyone sprayed the poor guy or girl behind the counter. they never got too mad at you but you always felt a little deliciously evil afterwards.  it was the extent of my badgirl moment; i would hear the commotion coming from the chatterbox club but never have the moxie to step in while underage.

and the food. as a red sea pedestrian, i was never a fan of the sausages, though legions swear up and down they are the best. me, i always ended up with powdered sugar in my hair from chowing down on as many zeppoles as i could fathom. dinner would always be pizza for me, whether from the sawmill, three brothers, or some other place in a pinch. and kohrs custard? i think i can thank them for part of my fat tush. kohrs custard was always thicker and silkier than mere ice cream. i remember once, while driving outside of charlottesville, va, with my family — i saw a kohrs and begged to stop. my kids thought mom had lost the plot until they tasted the dream.

there is something about the heavy, heady smell of decades of tourists looking for a cheap, good time that has been lost.  hurricane sandy just exploded over seaside like a swampy h-bomb. the devastation from that storm ripped my heart out. the jetstar sat in the ocean, rusting out for months before it was taken out of the collective misery of our memories. and slowly, the boards began to rebuild.  they replaced some of the boards with something tougher than wood to withstand the pounding storm surf. the carousel was cleaned up. sure, the whole thing wasn’t really back to full steam, but there was a certain feeling of pride that the place was going to be back, stronger than ever.

and then, the fire.

and all these places that were lost to me have become lost to me again. i want to bring them back, and yet the only way i think i will is through my memories. sure, it looks like no one was killed, and thank goodness for that, as people are not replaceable. ever. but as time goes by, i’m beginning to wonder whether places were meant to be replaced.  the smells, the sights, the strange mix of earnest kids and flashy outsiders: it will never be the same.

and yet, there’s that part of me that wants to catch the wave of seaside’s next act.

 

Theme: Overlay by Kaira.  Extra Text
Cape Town, South Africa