Word. It's one of those Mondays that feels like hell. Sadly not because I was celebrating uproariously over the weekend, more like my wee children were ridiculous today. The whole "Christmas is in less than a week" thing has them set on screech. Some random parent visited one of my classes today, and I swear if I were her, I'd've taken my kid out on the spot. The kids were so insane! But enough of that--I'm actually lucky that I've got quite a few classes that have been cancelled this week. I don't think I could do a full week of insane children. I am so already on vacation.
I expected to be on duty with dinner tonight, but when I got home at 6, my roomate Christian was already making dinner. It looked and smelled suspiciously German...I'm wary after last night's dinner of green cabbage, sausage and potatoes. Cabbage is nobody's friend. There's really nothing outrageous to report here--no 6 year olds tried to steal my phone yet this week, or last week for that matter. I've been passing out candy and singing Christmas songs and explaining that "Merry Christmas" is actually an English phrase, and that Christmas stockings are stockings and not boots. Which is it's own kind of crazy kicks, I guess. Stephan went back to work today after having infected tonsils, among other things. It's weird having him gone--he was home for like, two and a half weeks. But it gives me time to finish up doing Christmas-y things. And time to update this...all kinds of time. Ooh! And time to listen to The Sounds, who are fabulous and retro and ridiculous. I overhauled my iPod over the weekend, hoping that a software re-install would do...something. But no, she's still as tempramental as ever. I'm in the market for a new mp3 player if anyone's heard anything good. I've decided I'm going to buy them like I buy sunglasses--me getting burned by my iPod absolutely marks the last time I'm dropping anything close to that amount of money on faddish and overrated technology.
On a decidedly girly note, I got a bunch of gift certificates to the main cosmetic department store over here, so I went in yesterday (yes, in Berlin during the Advent season, you can go shopping in most malls on Sundays. It's glorious.) and discovered orange blush. It sounds so much more gruesome than it actually is. It's translucent and far more subtle than a normal pink. In case anyone cares. I'm over it. What else is news? I watched this incredibly intense movie over the weekend called 'the Valley of Wolves'--the director was turkish and Billy Zane was in it--it was originally done in English, but I can't imagine it being easy to find in America--it was one of the most anti-Ami things I've seen in a long time. Like, really really hard core. I needed about four mammoth vodka and cokes to get me through the portrayal of my countrymen. At the same time, though, I'm really glad I had to chance to watch it--I don't agree with the perspective, but I can understand where they're coming from and the people making these movies are entitled to it. It's hard to convey the level to which the director portrays Americans as brutal, godless, insane and greedy--it's all of those things multiplied by ten thousand and then squared. Whew.
One last thing.
Submitted for the collective approval of whoever takes the time to read this:
I'm debating cutting my hair. Not shorter, cause I'm growing it out, but cutting more layers into it or getting long bangs or something. Thoughts? Questions? Comments?
out.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Friday, December 08, 2006
A day in the life
So. Me again...here, writing to you. Etc. Primarily in sentence fragments.
One of these days, I will stop using this thing as a replacement for any and all forms of email communication. But I'm a terrible asshole when it comes to emailing. Not that I have a reason to be. My life is hectic and idiotic, but no more so than anybody else's. And I do realize that. But speaking of ridiculous and idiotic shit that has happened to me in the last week, I should tell you that I saw a three-year-old hit another three-year-old in the face yesterday, so hard that the second kid's nose started bleeding all over the place. And this was in one of the nice yuppie districs of Berlin. I was freaked out. You don't expect violence from little kids like that. But yesterday really wasn't my day. After seeing the kiddies beating on eachother, and having one wreck himself while allegedly in my care (I left the room to look for a missing child, and this idiot takes a digger on a pile of gymnastics mats in the corner and starts crying while also bleeding copiously from his nose. I win!), I go to my last school and proceed to get my cellphone stolen by a six year old! Here's how it happened. A new program was supposed to start in the Hort that day--some kind of choir, and a lot of the kids were sad, because it conflicted with English, which their parents had already signed them up and paid for. So they couldn't go. Two of them even started to cry. So I give them my phone and tell them they are the official timekeepers of the English class, because little kids like it when you give them extra special responsibilities like that, and I really didn't want to have them crying all through my class. So they stop. But being six, they lay my phone down on a chair while coloring, and some other kid picks it up and runs off with it. Of course, I don't see this happen, because I'm trying to bring some modicum of order into the chaos that is fourteen six year olds and an after-school English class. So once I realize my phone is gone, I stop everything and explain to the kids that it's not funny, that I'm sad that my phone is gone, but I'm not angry, and I just want it back. So we all look, and it's not anywhere in the room. My phone has literally vanished. After much looking and finger-pointing among the kids, this one girl comes up to me and says "Hey Mia, there are some blankets in the hall where someone could have hidden something, I'll go look." And I'm like, "no, that's silly. My phone's got to be in the room someplace, stay here." But she insisted, so I let her go. And I'll be damned if two seconds later, the little witch didn't bring me back my phone. Yeah. So that's the last time I trust small children, however cute, with ANYTHING. Consider that lesson learned. And picture this, of course: in the first nursery school I was at yesterday, they gave me a poinsettia for St. Nicholas Day. So for the next eight hours, I'm carrying this idiotic plant all over Berlin, and forgetting it literally every place I go. In every single other nursery school, in the copy shop, everywhere. And me running back like an idiot to pick it up. It was just one of those days where I had to step back from my life and think "this can't be real. this is just too bizarre." I mean, it really was like some kind of third rate film--the characteristic Bad Day.
In other news, last weekend Julia had two friends from the states in town--Graeme and Jason*, and Stephan and I got invited to a housewarming party on Saturday night. So we round up the crew and storm the party. Like whoah. We arrived at 11 and left around three, but there was chaos and carnage, man. And the fucking sony singstar game stole my soul. I always laughed at those commercials where people are at parties singing karaoke. I always thought it was dumb. Well, not once I've had a few gin and tonics, apparently. I was singing all kinds of crap--German, American...I so didn't care. Germans really enjoy "the eye of the tiger". I never knew, but mannnn, that was one of the burning memories I had from that night. And I woke up with "uptown girl" in my head. For whatever reason. It was an awesome party, weird singstar phenomenon aside. The next day, I got to do one of my favorite hangover things, which is namely to lay around and watch nordic skiing on tv. I think that's my favorite thing about Europe in general, is that shit like that gets airtime. It's such a wonderfully relaxing thing to watch. Not too loud, not too hectic, and if you've ever been a skiier, just exciting enough to merit watching. So, fabulous party at Christin's. Check. Ridiculous stories of children from this week. Check. What else?
*Notes on Graeme and Jason: Jason is a New York architect who is probably the dictionary definition of "cute and cuddly". He's also mailing my family my christmas presents to them, so he's A number one in my book. Graeme is a lady killer, hipster-bingo style. Totally charming and smooth, even when black out wasted. He managed to make out with Christin, whose older brother is a career soldier in the German Army, right under Kai (the brother)'s nose and not get murdered. I was amazed. Not that Kai is violent or typically "army" in any country's sense of the world, but he is very much the "are you really looking at my sister?" kind of guy. But lovely. Very nice.
H'm. What else is new here? I bought Stephan his Christmas present: the goofy shoes from the adicolor series. I'm now in the process of coloring them in with the little paint pens that came with the shoes. Of course the little goofys are tiny and the tips on the pens are freaking huge. Oh, the things one does for love. And the darling has tonsilitis and will probably have to have them out once he gets better. I'm imagining the nightmare that will be Stephan in the hospital for a week. He'll be bored out of his head the entire time. But there's not going to be anything for him to spend money on there, so that'll be an improvement...I think?
This weekend is our one year anny. It kind of weirds me out that we've actually been together this long. The year went by so incredibly fast. I have to wonder if all the years are going to go by this quickly from now on. They probably always have and I just never noticed. Of course this makes me think depressing thoughts like "am I doing the right things with my life?" and if all the years are going to go by this fast, am I going to wake up one day and think "sweet jesus--where has all the time gone?!" But that's kind of ridiculous. I mean...I'm not sure that thinking like that actually accomplishes anything, other than making me depressed and confused and unable to do anything other than contemplate all the things I'm not doing with my life. *Sigh*.
Enough of those thoughts. Stephan and Christian are musically reliving their childhoods, listening to bad German rap from the 90s and chick music from the same time. I'm debating taking advantage of the new extended hours the stores have during December to go look for an English book for Max, Stephan's little brother. Anyway, I'm out for today.
kisses.
One of these days, I will stop using this thing as a replacement for any and all forms of email communication. But I'm a terrible asshole when it comes to emailing. Not that I have a reason to be. My life is hectic and idiotic, but no more so than anybody else's. And I do realize that. But speaking of ridiculous and idiotic shit that has happened to me in the last week, I should tell you that I saw a three-year-old hit another three-year-old in the face yesterday, so hard that the second kid's nose started bleeding all over the place. And this was in one of the nice yuppie districs of Berlin. I was freaked out. You don't expect violence from little kids like that. But yesterday really wasn't my day. After seeing the kiddies beating on eachother, and having one wreck himself while allegedly in my care (I left the room to look for a missing child, and this idiot takes a digger on a pile of gymnastics mats in the corner and starts crying while also bleeding copiously from his nose. I win!), I go to my last school and proceed to get my cellphone stolen by a six year old! Here's how it happened. A new program was supposed to start in the Hort that day--some kind of choir, and a lot of the kids were sad, because it conflicted with English, which their parents had already signed them up and paid for. So they couldn't go. Two of them even started to cry. So I give them my phone and tell them they are the official timekeepers of the English class, because little kids like it when you give them extra special responsibilities like that, and I really didn't want to have them crying all through my class. So they stop. But being six, they lay my phone down on a chair while coloring, and some other kid picks it up and runs off with it. Of course, I don't see this happen, because I'm trying to bring some modicum of order into the chaos that is fourteen six year olds and an after-school English class. So once I realize my phone is gone, I stop everything and explain to the kids that it's not funny, that I'm sad that my phone is gone, but I'm not angry, and I just want it back. So we all look, and it's not anywhere in the room. My phone has literally vanished. After much looking and finger-pointing among the kids, this one girl comes up to me and says "Hey Mia, there are some blankets in the hall where someone could have hidden something, I'll go look." And I'm like, "no, that's silly. My phone's got to be in the room someplace, stay here." But she insisted, so I let her go. And I'll be damned if two seconds later, the little witch didn't bring me back my phone. Yeah. So that's the last time I trust small children, however cute, with ANYTHING. Consider that lesson learned. And picture this, of course: in the first nursery school I was at yesterday, they gave me a poinsettia for St. Nicholas Day. So for the next eight hours, I'm carrying this idiotic plant all over Berlin, and forgetting it literally every place I go. In every single other nursery school, in the copy shop, everywhere. And me running back like an idiot to pick it up. It was just one of those days where I had to step back from my life and think "this can't be real. this is just too bizarre." I mean, it really was like some kind of third rate film--the characteristic Bad Day.
In other news, last weekend Julia had two friends from the states in town--Graeme and Jason*, and Stephan and I got invited to a housewarming party on Saturday night. So we round up the crew and storm the party. Like whoah. We arrived at 11 and left around three, but there was chaos and carnage, man. And the fucking sony singstar game stole my soul. I always laughed at those commercials where people are at parties singing karaoke. I always thought it was dumb. Well, not once I've had a few gin and tonics, apparently. I was singing all kinds of crap--German, American...I so didn't care. Germans really enjoy "the eye of the tiger". I never knew, but mannnn, that was one of the burning memories I had from that night. And I woke up with "uptown girl" in my head. For whatever reason. It was an awesome party, weird singstar phenomenon aside. The next day, I got to do one of my favorite hangover things, which is namely to lay around and watch nordic skiing on tv. I think that's my favorite thing about Europe in general, is that shit like that gets airtime. It's such a wonderfully relaxing thing to watch. Not too loud, not too hectic, and if you've ever been a skiier, just exciting enough to merit watching. So, fabulous party at Christin's. Check. Ridiculous stories of children from this week. Check. What else?
*Notes on Graeme and Jason: Jason is a New York architect who is probably the dictionary definition of "cute and cuddly". He's also mailing my family my christmas presents to them, so he's A number one in my book. Graeme is a lady killer, hipster-bingo style. Totally charming and smooth, even when black out wasted. He managed to make out with Christin, whose older brother is a career soldier in the German Army, right under Kai (the brother)'s nose and not get murdered. I was amazed. Not that Kai is violent or typically "army" in any country's sense of the world, but he is very much the "are you really looking at my sister?" kind of guy. But lovely. Very nice.
H'm. What else is new here? I bought Stephan his Christmas present: the goofy shoes from the adicolor series. I'm now in the process of coloring them in with the little paint pens that came with the shoes. Of course the little goofys are tiny and the tips on the pens are freaking huge. Oh, the things one does for love. And the darling has tonsilitis and will probably have to have them out once he gets better. I'm imagining the nightmare that will be Stephan in the hospital for a week. He'll be bored out of his head the entire time. But there's not going to be anything for him to spend money on there, so that'll be an improvement...I think?
This weekend is our one year anny. It kind of weirds me out that we've actually been together this long. The year went by so incredibly fast. I have to wonder if all the years are going to go by this quickly from now on. They probably always have and I just never noticed. Of course this makes me think depressing thoughts like "am I doing the right things with my life?" and if all the years are going to go by this fast, am I going to wake up one day and think "sweet jesus--where has all the time gone?!" But that's kind of ridiculous. I mean...I'm not sure that thinking like that actually accomplishes anything, other than making me depressed and confused and unable to do anything other than contemplate all the things I'm not doing with my life. *Sigh*.
Enough of those thoughts. Stephan and Christian are musically reliving their childhoods, listening to bad German rap from the 90s and chick music from the same time. I'm debating taking advantage of the new extended hours the stores have during December to go look for an English book for Max, Stephan's little brother. Anyway, I'm out for today.
kisses.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
So it's been a while. But I've got a host of good excuses, really. The last two weekends, I've been out of town, which has left me totally wiped during the week. The weekend before last, in Rostock, was grand. Really, really awesome. We drank a bottle of gin & tonic on the train up and proceeded to go out and dance until four thirty in the morning. I needed it. But it kicked my ass. Seeing everyone from last year was also amazing--I really miss having a base group of people around. Meeting people in a big city is hard--especially when you specialize in pre-school. I mean, seriously. I don't get to play with the big kids. Which sucks.
However, last weekend, if a tad more stressful, was equally awesome. Both of Stephan's grandparents turned 70 last week, so they had a 140th bithday party last weekend. It was also really great to be with a family. And Stephan's is just right for me: loud, chaotic, friendly and unrefined. Mostly. They make me feel like a part of everything, which when you're far away from home and your own family, is an excellent thing. The only shitty part was that we had to go down on Saturday and come home on Sunday...Monday morning, I was totally destroyed. The whole week's been kind of hazy, and I've forgotten more shit than I normally do, but thank god I had a few classes cancelled. It'll be a pain in the ass to have to make them all up, but it was totally worth it to have a week that was just a skotch less stressful than normal. It also gave me a chance to catch up on household things, go grocery shopping with the boys ( I really almost had to cut a bitch when they started whining that I was walking too fast. Wusses.), set up a new bank account and at least contemplate Christmas shopping.
The real news of the hour, however is that I now actually have my visa in my hot little hands (passport). It looks pretty cool, but after seven weeks and fifty Euros, it had damn well better. I know the process isn't any better or any cheaper or any more dignified at home--or at least, in our post 9/11 paranoia, I assume it isn't--but I hate the subtitles that are oh-so-present in the whole experience. That the state workers have absolute authority over whether you get to stay or go. That you're tolerated, but not wanted. The precariousness is in the goddamn air in that building, I swear it. And I'm one of the "desirables", you know? I'm educated, American (i.e. $$$$$), I already have a job here...and still, walking to the Auslanderbehoerde this morning, I almost had a fucking panic attack. Even though I'd been told that everything had cleared, I was still petrified that I'd get there and the second copy of the puce paper would be missing or something idiotic and beauracratic like that. You might be chuckling, but it's not at all that far fetched. Something like 70% of all printed tax documents are in German. They believe in paperwork here. Paperwork creates order. And really, Germans do love order. Again, it may sound outrageously stereotypical, but it's true. It's a generalization, but very much based in fact.
I'm noticing slowly that even though it's the warmest November on record here, the whole Berlin-winter-funk is starting to creep over me. I haven't been to the gym in over a week. And before that, I think it was also a week. When I come home, I really just want to get in bed and read. Speaking of which, I just finished Middlesex--great book. I'm sure I'm reading it after pretty much everyone else who's going to, but it was really fabulous. Due to the excessive amounts of time I spend in public-trans, I chewed through it in, like, a week. Through this, I made the fascinating discovery that when I read in English here, I shut out absoultely everything around me. I scared myself a few times by not hearing the people doing random ticket controlls in the tram and by almost missing my stop a few times. All of which led me to think. I read voraciously as a little kid, and I think what happened in college was that I discovered with an excess of guys and booze, I could attain the same level of "away" from wherever I was. When they say books take you places, it's so much more than corny, literacy initiative bullshit. They do. But so do booze and men. It's just kind of different. And since I'm being monogomous lately, and my schedule doesn't allow as much time as previously for boozing...I'm getting back into books. Which isn't all that bad, really. Better for my liver in any case. Now if only I could get back into going to yoga/the gym, I'd be the all-around healthiest person I know.
If.
Wish me luck with my Christmas shopping this weekend. I have a feeling it's going to be stressful. I already had to have the awkward conversation with Stephan that my parents pretending he doesn't exist means that no, they're not giving him anything for Christmas. Which of course makes me feel terrible, because his family's been so great to me. I love my family, and I can't change them...but they can definitely make things difficult, even from a distance. *Big, fat sigh.*
Buuuut we're going out to dinner tonight. I'm excited. The eating's great in our hood. Since I'm making Indian Lentil Soup tomorrow with cumin and coriander, I'll forego that tonight...maybe italian? H'm....
However, last weekend, if a tad more stressful, was equally awesome. Both of Stephan's grandparents turned 70 last week, so they had a 140th bithday party last weekend. It was also really great to be with a family. And Stephan's is just right for me: loud, chaotic, friendly and unrefined. Mostly. They make me feel like a part of everything, which when you're far away from home and your own family, is an excellent thing. The only shitty part was that we had to go down on Saturday and come home on Sunday...Monday morning, I was totally destroyed. The whole week's been kind of hazy, and I've forgotten more shit than I normally do, but thank god I had a few classes cancelled. It'll be a pain in the ass to have to make them all up, but it was totally worth it to have a week that was just a skotch less stressful than normal. It also gave me a chance to catch up on household things, go grocery shopping with the boys ( I really almost had to cut a bitch when they started whining that I was walking too fast. Wusses.), set up a new bank account and at least contemplate Christmas shopping.
The real news of the hour, however is that I now actually have my visa in my hot little hands (passport). It looks pretty cool, but after seven weeks and fifty Euros, it had damn well better. I know the process isn't any better or any cheaper or any more dignified at home--or at least, in our post 9/11 paranoia, I assume it isn't--but I hate the subtitles that are oh-so-present in the whole experience. That the state workers have absolute authority over whether you get to stay or go. That you're tolerated, but not wanted. The precariousness is in the goddamn air in that building, I swear it. And I'm one of the "desirables", you know? I'm educated, American (i.e. $$$$$), I already have a job here...and still, walking to the Auslanderbehoerde this morning, I almost had a fucking panic attack. Even though I'd been told that everything had cleared, I was still petrified that I'd get there and the second copy of the puce paper would be missing or something idiotic and beauracratic like that. You might be chuckling, but it's not at all that far fetched. Something like 70% of all printed tax documents are in German. They believe in paperwork here. Paperwork creates order. And really, Germans do love order. Again, it may sound outrageously stereotypical, but it's true. It's a generalization, but very much based in fact.
I'm noticing slowly that even though it's the warmest November on record here, the whole Berlin-winter-funk is starting to creep over me. I haven't been to the gym in over a week. And before that, I think it was also a week. When I come home, I really just want to get in bed and read. Speaking of which, I just finished Middlesex--great book. I'm sure I'm reading it after pretty much everyone else who's going to, but it was really fabulous. Due to the excessive amounts of time I spend in public-trans, I chewed through it in, like, a week. Through this, I made the fascinating discovery that when I read in English here, I shut out absoultely everything around me. I scared myself a few times by not hearing the people doing random ticket controlls in the tram and by almost missing my stop a few times. All of which led me to think. I read voraciously as a little kid, and I think what happened in college was that I discovered with an excess of guys and booze, I could attain the same level of "away" from wherever I was. When they say books take you places, it's so much more than corny, literacy initiative bullshit. They do. But so do booze and men. It's just kind of different. And since I'm being monogomous lately, and my schedule doesn't allow as much time as previously for boozing...I'm getting back into books. Which isn't all that bad, really. Better for my liver in any case. Now if only I could get back into going to yoga/the gym, I'd be the all-around healthiest person I know.
If.
Wish me luck with my Christmas shopping this weekend. I have a feeling it's going to be stressful. I already had to have the awkward conversation with Stephan that my parents pretending he doesn't exist means that no, they're not giving him anything for Christmas. Which of course makes me feel terrible, because his family's been so great to me. I love my family, and I can't change them...but they can definitely make things difficult, even from a distance. *Big, fat sigh.*
Buuuut we're going out to dinner tonight. I'm excited. The eating's great in our hood. Since I'm making Indian Lentil Soup tomorrow with cumin and coriander, I'll forego that tonight...maybe italian? H'm....
Thursday, November 16, 2006
The Beautiful People
The really cool thing about living in a big city is people watching. I'm a junkie. It's the one thing that gets me through hours and hours on public trans every day. And Berlin is an ideal city for it too, because you don't just have homeless people and cookie-cutter-fashionistas. I see so many people every day that look so rad. Not just goregeous, either. People here wear pretty much whatever the hell they want, so you see just about everything walking down the street. I mean, the last time I lived here, I ran around in slips and camisoles all summer, and it wasn't an extraordinarily contentious thing. I adored the freedom. You see really beautiful people of all ages, really well put together people of all ages...you name it. I always want to stop people on the street and tell them I think their shoes are great, or that they have great skin or great hair...or just generally look awesome--but Germans in general would be even more freaked out by that than your average American...and even in America, that'd be considered weird. Good weird, but still weird.
Not everyone is beautiful here, but yeah. Lots of people are. It was weird. Today in one of my classes, one of my kids said she saw me in Treptow (the neighbor district where my gym is) last night. It was so totally plausible and probably true that it freaked me out. I don't want to prevaricate: I felt a little voilated. She's one of the sweet kids. But I definitely have bunches of hellish little ankle biters who I absolutely NEVER want to see outside of the classroom. Hell, I don't even really want to see them IN the classroom, but I don't really have a choice there. Today I gave at least 3 time-outs. I'm not so sure they were effective, but seeing how much money the parents shell out for these kids to be here, I can't just kick the kid out--and mostly that's what the little bastards want anyway. Children in the second grade are wretched. Well, okay...not all of them.
But lots.
I'm just excited that it's Friday tomorrow, and I can sleep in, pack for Rostock, have a relatively leisurely morning, teach my 3 hours and then my weekend starts. I'm debating whether or not to booze extensively on the train ride up. That could be lovely. It could also be lethal. We'll see. Right now, all I want to do is sit in bed and watch M*A*S*H dvds. They drink almost as much gin as Mer and I did senior year...and just a wee bit more than Matthias, Stephan, Julia and I did last winter. Mmm-mm. M*A*S*H sounds so good...I'm on it like a hornet.
'till after the weekend...
Not everyone is beautiful here, but yeah. Lots of people are. It was weird. Today in one of my classes, one of my kids said she saw me in Treptow (the neighbor district where my gym is) last night. It was so totally plausible and probably true that it freaked me out. I don't want to prevaricate: I felt a little voilated. She's one of the sweet kids. But I definitely have bunches of hellish little ankle biters who I absolutely NEVER want to see outside of the classroom. Hell, I don't even really want to see them IN the classroom, but I don't really have a choice there. Today I gave at least 3 time-outs. I'm not so sure they were effective, but seeing how much money the parents shell out for these kids to be here, I can't just kick the kid out--and mostly that's what the little bastards want anyway. Children in the second grade are wretched. Well, okay...not all of them.
But lots.
I'm just excited that it's Friday tomorrow, and I can sleep in, pack for Rostock, have a relatively leisurely morning, teach my 3 hours and then my weekend starts. I'm debating whether or not to booze extensively on the train ride up. That could be lovely. It could also be lethal. We'll see. Right now, all I want to do is sit in bed and watch M*A*S*H dvds. They drink almost as much gin as Mer and I did senior year...and just a wee bit more than Matthias, Stephan, Julia and I did last winter. Mmm-mm. M*A*S*H sounds so good...I'm on it like a hornet.
'till after the weekend...
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Making up for lost time...
Being exempt from household chores is cool. Like not having to cook dinner or clean up or wash dishes. It's the cough-and-cold part that sucks. I got blatantly hit on by a father of one of my students today. it was a little weird. i had to step back from my life for a moment and say "hey, wait--this is my life, not 'Must Love Dogs'!" Turns out we're practically neighbors. Weird. I'll probably run into him grocery shopping sometime and it'll be awkward.
(So yeah. This is my second try with this post: I stopped writing 3 days ago, so I don't know under what date it'll post, and then Lennard, the friend of Stephan's who rescued my internet access a few hours ago tripped over my network cable and Stephan then exited blogger, thus deleting what I'd already written. And all while I'd gotten up to be the good, solidaritous female roomate and plan a conspiratory trip to IKEA next week sometime with Cindy. Grrr.)
Anyway. New news is that I got strongarmed into going to the doctor Friday. I don't like going even in America...but here, it's really a whole different ball game and most of the time, I leave feeling vaguely taken advantage of. Like last year, when I went in with Bronchitis and the fucking doctor gave me an ultrasound of my sinuses. I was like "Doc--that's not where it hurts! HERE'S where it hurts!" but he just kind of stared at me uncomprehendingly and stuck some kind of camera down my throat. I left feeling thoroughly voilated, and with a bill for 150 Euro. We'll see how much this visit runs me. Theoretically, my insurance *should* reimburse me, but it's weird German "travel insurance" and I have no idea how to even file a claim. This should be an adventure. But I made the acquiantance of Dr. Waltraud Pfeifer. Yep, her name is "Walt-rowd". It's a woman. It was pretty cool. She didn't stick a camera down my throat and she didn't violate my sinuses, either. What she did do was give me these kick-ass 3 day antibiotics and prescribe me some German birth control (the stash from home is almost out and I DO NOT need any mini-Stephans or mini-Me's running around). So I'm feeling all around much better. The dear Doctor also wrote me this handy little note which supposedly prohibits me from working. That's how they do things here--they write the note from your mother that excuses you from school. And it works when you're an adult, too. Well, almost. Not with my boss. She was just like "drink some tea and suck it up. Play Cds for the kids." This, however common it might be in America is rare here in Germany and was the source of much outrage among my roomates. But I'm tough, I'll survive. I kind of have to. There's a lot going on this week. Among other things, I've got this test-lesson at an elementary school which wants to outsource it's first and second grade English classes to our company. Somehow (personally, I believe out of sheer desperation) my boss has decided that I'm the one who's going to nail this contract for us. And take the hours. I told her I'd definitely do the test-lesson and I'd see about the actual hours. They shouldn't start until January--but just between us, with the hours I'm working now, I'm kind of all set for money (once I get paid for a full month of work that is) and as I've mentioned, the stress is more than enough with the hours I have. We'll see. She's still under the impression that I'm the greatful immigrant slave who will be loyal to her company for years to come. And that I'm still hot for the full-time position she promised me for next year. Boy does SHE have it coming. I'm tempted to avoid the subject completely and then spring it on her at the last second. But that'd be shitty and they have done a lot for me, in terms of filing paperwork for my visa and work permits (which of course I still don't have...).
So we'll see. This coming weekend, we're also slated to drive up to Rostock. Poor Stephan is languishing because he hasn't seen his family in, like months. I feel kind of bad, taking him away from his family and all his friends up there. It's basically because of me that we moved to Berlin. He wanted to study here, but for this semester it didn't work out. Because the universities here are funded by the state, money is tight and the slots in a class for a certain major are few and far between. But next semester is supposedly a sure thing. I hope it works out. Otherwise he'll get even more restless than he already is. But I'm excited to go back up north. I miss the Rostock kids and the bars and Stephan's family. They're a really great, chaotic pack. His brother also has all of my Family Guy DVDs. And the weekend after that is the double 70th birthday party for the grandparents, in this tiny little mountain village on the former East/West German border. The last weekend in November, there'll almost certainly be snow. I'm so excited! Berlin's not much for snow--it's more rainy and raw than anything else. When it does snow, it doesn't really stick, sadly. Just a lot of grey and wetness. I gotsta get me some sexy Euro winter boots. Tis the season, and I wore my black pointy ones from last year out. Literally. We're talking cracked soles and walked-down heels by New Year's. They barely made it through to March. God, I loved those boots. Sigh.
Anyway, the Hackbraten (meatloaf, I believe) with Feta cheese is calling me. And Stephan is so preoccupied with his new steering wheel for his video games that I don't think he'll be eating or sleeping for the next few days, so I'm on my own.
(So yeah. This is my second try with this post: I stopped writing 3 days ago, so I don't know under what date it'll post, and then Lennard, the friend of Stephan's who rescued my internet access a few hours ago tripped over my network cable and Stephan then exited blogger, thus deleting what I'd already written. And all while I'd gotten up to be the good, solidaritous female roomate and plan a conspiratory trip to IKEA next week sometime with Cindy. Grrr.)
Anyway. New news is that I got strongarmed into going to the doctor Friday. I don't like going even in America...but here, it's really a whole different ball game and most of the time, I leave feeling vaguely taken advantage of. Like last year, when I went in with Bronchitis and the fucking doctor gave me an ultrasound of my sinuses. I was like "Doc--that's not where it hurts! HERE'S where it hurts!" but he just kind of stared at me uncomprehendingly and stuck some kind of camera down my throat. I left feeling thoroughly voilated, and with a bill for 150 Euro. We'll see how much this visit runs me. Theoretically, my insurance *should* reimburse me, but it's weird German "travel insurance" and I have no idea how to even file a claim. This should be an adventure. But I made the acquiantance of Dr. Waltraud Pfeifer. Yep, her name is "Walt-rowd". It's a woman. It was pretty cool. She didn't stick a camera down my throat and she didn't violate my sinuses, either. What she did do was give me these kick-ass 3 day antibiotics and prescribe me some German birth control (the stash from home is almost out and I DO NOT need any mini-Stephans or mini-Me's running around). So I'm feeling all around much better. The dear Doctor also wrote me this handy little note which supposedly prohibits me from working. That's how they do things here--they write the note from your mother that excuses you from school. And it works when you're an adult, too. Well, almost. Not with my boss. She was just like "drink some tea and suck it up. Play Cds for the kids." This, however common it might be in America is rare here in Germany and was the source of much outrage among my roomates. But I'm tough, I'll survive. I kind of have to. There's a lot going on this week. Among other things, I've got this test-lesson at an elementary school which wants to outsource it's first and second grade English classes to our company. Somehow (personally, I believe out of sheer desperation) my boss has decided that I'm the one who's going to nail this contract for us. And take the hours. I told her I'd definitely do the test-lesson and I'd see about the actual hours. They shouldn't start until January--but just between us, with the hours I'm working now, I'm kind of all set for money (once I get paid for a full month of work that is) and as I've mentioned, the stress is more than enough with the hours I have. We'll see. She's still under the impression that I'm the greatful immigrant slave who will be loyal to her company for years to come. And that I'm still hot for the full-time position she promised me for next year. Boy does SHE have it coming. I'm tempted to avoid the subject completely and then spring it on her at the last second. But that'd be shitty and they have done a lot for me, in terms of filing paperwork for my visa and work permits (which of course I still don't have...).
So we'll see. This coming weekend, we're also slated to drive up to Rostock. Poor Stephan is languishing because he hasn't seen his family in, like months. I feel kind of bad, taking him away from his family and all his friends up there. It's basically because of me that we moved to Berlin. He wanted to study here, but for this semester it didn't work out. Because the universities here are funded by the state, money is tight and the slots in a class for a certain major are few and far between. But next semester is supposedly a sure thing. I hope it works out. Otherwise he'll get even more restless than he already is. But I'm excited to go back up north. I miss the Rostock kids and the bars and Stephan's family. They're a really great, chaotic pack. His brother also has all of my Family Guy DVDs. And the weekend after that is the double 70th birthday party for the grandparents, in this tiny little mountain village on the former East/West German border. The last weekend in November, there'll almost certainly be snow. I'm so excited! Berlin's not much for snow--it's more rainy and raw than anything else. When it does snow, it doesn't really stick, sadly. Just a lot of grey and wetness. I gotsta get me some sexy Euro winter boots. Tis the season, and I wore my black pointy ones from last year out. Literally. We're talking cracked soles and walked-down heels by New Year's. They barely made it through to March. God, I loved those boots. Sigh.
Anyway, the Hackbraten (meatloaf, I believe) with Feta cheese is calling me. And Stephan is so preoccupied with his new steering wheel for his video games that I don't think he'll be eating or sleeping for the next few days, so I'm on my own.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Rediscovering the beauty of baths and other bonuses of being ill...
So I'm still sick. I could atttribute this to stress and tension, or lack of sleep, or the shit weather, or that my idiot German roomates insist on keeping windows open in Novermber for "fresh air". The nice thing is, sickness is kind of holy here. Preventative medicine still reigns supreme. Mostly. If you don't count my boss, that is. Any other German employer would have banished me to my house until I actually had a voice again. Not Frau Reder. Foruntately, in my apartment, this whole "sickness-as-holy" thing still works. My otherwise very resource-conscious roomates keep telling me I should take an Erkältungsbad, which is a bath with eucalyptus and other things that are suppose to clear out your upper respiratory system. (i opted for the bubble bath instead.) I get clucked over a lot, and Cindy, the other girl, makes me lots of tea. And I'm excused tonight from our communal grocery shopping extravaganza. Which is actually great, because as much as I love grocery shopping (and I really, truly do) going with my two roomates would really suck the fun out of it. The good news is however, that we've got our menu planned for the rest of the month. I wish I were joking and I wish that by "we" I didn't mean "Zee Germans". But I do. Here, for your amusement (please prepare to have every German stereotype viciously reinforced):
W: Schmorkohl mit Kartoffeln (stewed cabbage with potatoes)
Th: Gefüllte Paprika mit Gürkensalat (stuffed peppers with cucumber salad)
F: Milchreis (rice in milk. I can't actually explain it, but it's with cinnamon and sugar)
Sa: Hackbraten, Kartoffeln, Erbsen (Meatloaf, potatoes and peas)
So: Linsen Eintopf mit Wiener (yeah, that says "wiener". Lentil stew with vienese sausage)
M: Nudeln mit tomatensauce (Pasta and tomato sauce)
Tu: Rouladen, Rotkohl, Kartoffeln (some type of pig, potatoes and red cabbage)
W: Fetahackauflauf (hamburger & feta casserole)
...I could go on, but the overabundance of potatoes would overwhelm you. I had to lobby hard for the noodles. It won't surprise you at all to hear that last year, in the high school I worked at, when I asked kids what they would miss if they were forced to move to someplace like South East Asia, a majority of every class said potatoes. Yes. Potatoes. Like potatoes exist no place else. The prdominance of meat, otherwise known as "hack" (short for hackfleisch: literally, hacked up meat) can be attributed to Stephan and Christian, our two resident carnivores. I love a good steak, but there's a limit to how much meat and potatoes a girl can take!
Anyway, I should continue planning my lessons for tomorrow. As a rebellion, I'm just bringing word searches and other little riddles for the kids. I mean, how the fuck am I supposed to teach them English if I can't talk, for christ sake?! Oh well. I'm off to my copy shop. It's mine because I'm there literally every single day. They automatically give me the receipt now. It's nice.
W: Schmorkohl mit Kartoffeln (stewed cabbage with potatoes)
Th: Gefüllte Paprika mit Gürkensalat (stuffed peppers with cucumber salad)
F: Milchreis (rice in milk. I can't actually explain it, but it's with cinnamon and sugar)
Sa: Hackbraten, Kartoffeln, Erbsen (Meatloaf, potatoes and peas)
So: Linsen Eintopf mit Wiener (yeah, that says "wiener". Lentil stew with vienese sausage)
M: Nudeln mit tomatensauce (Pasta and tomato sauce)
Tu: Rouladen, Rotkohl, Kartoffeln (some type of pig, potatoes and red cabbage)
W: Fetahackauflauf (hamburger & feta casserole)
...I could go on, but the overabundance of potatoes would overwhelm you. I had to lobby hard for the noodles. It won't surprise you at all to hear that last year, in the high school I worked at, when I asked kids what they would miss if they were forced to move to someplace like South East Asia, a majority of every class said potatoes. Yes. Potatoes. Like potatoes exist no place else. The prdominance of meat, otherwise known as "hack" (short for hackfleisch: literally, hacked up meat) can be attributed to Stephan and Christian, our two resident carnivores. I love a good steak, but there's a limit to how much meat and potatoes a girl can take!
Anyway, I should continue planning my lessons for tomorrow. As a rebellion, I'm just bringing word searches and other little riddles for the kids. I mean, how the fuck am I supposed to teach them English if I can't talk, for christ sake?! Oh well. I'm off to my copy shop. It's mine because I'm there literally every single day. They automatically give me the receipt now. It's nice.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
General Update (for Adam)
So. I haven't been updating lately, and for that I apologize--apparently people read this. Well...I know from personal experience (www.thesuperficial.com), you can get addicted to reading just about anything on the internet, so I understand. Things here have been humming along a little too fast for me. I'm ready for a break. My job (for those of you who tuned in during the commercial break I teach English in a bunch of different nursery schools and at after school programs around Berlin) has been taking off like crazy, despite me being put on probation after a parent complained*. My boss didn't fire me. She just keeps giving me more hours. Which I don't really understand, since all of the other girls that work for her are trained teachers and I'm not. And I have trouble dealing with kids with behavioral problems. Yeah, okay, everyone does--otherwise they wouldn't be called "kids with behavioral problems", they'd be called something like "little human beings". Seriously, though, some of these kids are little fucking monsters. And because we're a private company, the boss wants every last child she can get. However, when I've got a class of 12 kids and even one of them is hyperactive, the whole thing goes downhill faster than you can imagine. On the whole, it's not terrible, but the overall stress of it is starting to get to me. I've got 17 classes in like, six different places so I'm always running around or waiting for some train or something. Keeping track of all the different classes and who's doing what, who has what prior knowledge, etc. etc. it's a pain in the ass. I like working with kids, but I don't know.
*Before you start thinking that I caned a small German child or something, the mother was a total witch, complained about the class size, the time of day, the classroom, how the class was structured...pretty much everything. To my boss of course. And then she turned in a contract for her kid anyway. Fucking people.
So I'm not that ecstatic about work. And I've somehow managed to pick up a sore throat (little kids are also germ mangnets), which makes establishing my authority with hyperactive German six and seven year olds a little difficult. Safe to say I'm not going to be reproducing for the next 3-5 years. This job has SO scared the baby-making thoughts away. However, cause I don't like to complain about a situation that I theoretically control, I've got another job lined up for July. I'm under contract for the rest of the school year, and I'm stubborn enough to fight it out, even if it's not so great, but after that's done, I'm going to start working in a parent-initiative pre-school. It's small, it's in one place, the head-woman is down to earth--and they need a native English speaker to color and read stories to the kids. I mean, of course I'll have to change diapers and tie shoes and all that jazz, but it'll be less stressful WITH healthcare benefits and money I can live on. I'm just hoping that the fucking Auslanderbeörde gets their shit together and issues me a visa and a work permit before April--because otherwise things will just become hopelessly complicated. Or more so than they already are.
Then of course come the questions:
Is this actually what I really want, or am I just killing time?
If I am just killing time, what am I waiting for?
If this is really what I want...is it enough?
It's the last one that gets me. I must ask myself about a thousand times a day if the life I have here is "enough". I've gotten to the point where I just shake my head and smile at people who ask me if this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. It's an idiotic question, but they're just trying to understand. And the whole 'picking up and leaving your home country'-bit isn't something that everyone gets. I don't always get it. A lot of the time it's a fun-filled adventure. Other times, it's comic. And then there are the days when I ask myself what in god's name I'm doing here, and why I don't go home and start an ordinary life where people watch baseball and celebrate Thanksgiving and don't freak out if you go barefoot.
But enough about that. That's just the daylight-savings time talking. It's dark and cold here and that makes me restless. Thank god for gyms and twice-weekly yoga courses, otherwise I'd flip out entirely. I've been working out a bunch, but this week is automatically stricken due to sickness. I get home and I'm so exhausted, I could sleep for a week. Speaking of which, I'm going to go make myself a pot of peppermint tea and drink the whole goddamned thing. Take that, immune system!
*Before you start thinking that I caned a small German child or something, the mother was a total witch, complained about the class size, the time of day, the classroom, how the class was structured...pretty much everything. To my boss of course. And then she turned in a contract for her kid anyway. Fucking people.
So I'm not that ecstatic about work. And I've somehow managed to pick up a sore throat (little kids are also germ mangnets), which makes establishing my authority with hyperactive German six and seven year olds a little difficult. Safe to say I'm not going to be reproducing for the next 3-5 years. This job has SO scared the baby-making thoughts away. However, cause I don't like to complain about a situation that I theoretically control, I've got another job lined up for July. I'm under contract for the rest of the school year, and I'm stubborn enough to fight it out, even if it's not so great, but after that's done, I'm going to start working in a parent-initiative pre-school. It's small, it's in one place, the head-woman is down to earth--and they need a native English speaker to color and read stories to the kids. I mean, of course I'll have to change diapers and tie shoes and all that jazz, but it'll be less stressful WITH healthcare benefits and money I can live on. I'm just hoping that the fucking Auslanderbeörde gets their shit together and issues me a visa and a work permit before April--because otherwise things will just become hopelessly complicated. Or more so than they already are.
Then of course come the questions:
Is this actually what I really want, or am I just killing time?
If I am just killing time, what am I waiting for?
If this is really what I want...is it enough?
It's the last one that gets me. I must ask myself about a thousand times a day if the life I have here is "enough". I've gotten to the point where I just shake my head and smile at people who ask me if this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. It's an idiotic question, but they're just trying to understand. And the whole 'picking up and leaving your home country'-bit isn't something that everyone gets. I don't always get it. A lot of the time it's a fun-filled adventure. Other times, it's comic. And then there are the days when I ask myself what in god's name I'm doing here, and why I don't go home and start an ordinary life where people watch baseball and celebrate Thanksgiving and don't freak out if you go barefoot.
But enough about that. That's just the daylight-savings time talking. It's dark and cold here and that makes me restless. Thank god for gyms and twice-weekly yoga courses, otherwise I'd flip out entirely. I've been working out a bunch, but this week is automatically stricken due to sickness. I get home and I'm so exhausted, I could sleep for a week. Speaking of which, I'm going to go make myself a pot of peppermint tea and drink the whole goddamned thing. Take that, immune system!
Friday, October 20, 2006
Hallelujiah Berlin
There's this really hilarious, corny German song that compares Berlin to the province Brandenburg which surrounds it. Among other things, Brandenburg is known for the German equivelant of hicks and neo-nazism. Compared to cosmopolitan Berlin, it stands no chance. This week I had a few really unexpected hallelujiah Berlin moments, in spite of working an amazing amount. You see, suddenly, school vacation ended, one of the other teachers from my company became ill and another one found out she was pregnant. So suddenly, I went from having 2 hours a week to like, 20. Of course, a few schools decided they wanted to add courses, and parents decided they wanted to add kids to existing courses...so yeah. It's been an intense week. And the hours that I've been substituting have been early morning hours. We all know I am not made of sweetness and light in the early morning. Other times, yes. Early morning, no. Despite this phenomenon, I had a few of those awesome moments when you just think "damn, my life is pretty awesome". One of the ones I can concretely remember was riding the S-Bahn (fast, overground public trains) to the outskirts of the city. The sun was rising and the whole city was fresh. Berlin is a city that goes from being hardcore urban residential to being woodsy at the drop of a hat--or within a few miles of train track. The leaves are also starting to turn color here--not nearly with the same glory they do at home, but it's an effort I appreciate nonetheless. So two mornings this week, I got to barrel out into the countryside and teach wee little German kids the intricacies of the English language.
That's the fun part. It's an exhausting job--don't ever listen to anyone who says otherwise. Little kids suck the lifeblood out of you. There is no better birth control on this earth than working with small children. What's not so much fun is teaching the slightly older kids--you know, the ones in second grade. That is officially my least favorite age. I teach these kids in Horte (plural of Hort), which are the after school programs (I think partially government subsidized) where the kids hang out from 1pm until whenever their parents are done with work, which can be as early as three pm or as late as five or six. Although I was in a pretty cool Hort today (music classes, sport classes, swimming, art...anything you could possibly think of, these kids do), I don't know how much of a fan I am. My initial impression is that there are always WAY too many kids for any number of qualified or unqualified personel to keep an effective eye on, so the kids get up to god-only-knows-what for hours and hours on end. I mean, sure, children need to be able to adapt to social situations and get along with their peers and be able to resolve conflicts, etc. but man...every Hort I've been in, even the best-organized ones, seem like pure chaos. As a result of this, when I get the kids to teach them, they're totally riled up and nigh on impossible to control, let alone teach. I learned a new German word the other day: Verhaltens-auffaellig. Literally translated, it means "noticable behavior". In real words, the kid is hyperactive or has behavioral problems. I definitely do not feel qualified for what I do. I mean, I have an extraordinary amount of natural patience...and I was born speaking English, but really...I have a whole new level of respect for elementary school and preschool teachers. They are superhuman individuals, that's for damn sure.
In other news...working out has been a fabulous release. The only problem is, I come home and I'm utterly exhausted. And I have little or no interest in working out. I crashed today for like, an hour. Stephan took one look at me and was just like "aaaand you're going to bed!" so I slept for an hour. Now I'm functional and putting off putting together material for Amelie, the nine year old that I tutor in German. Well, mostly German. We're supposed to do Math, too...but let's be honest, Math sucks. She's a sweet girl, and her parents are a riot. And the money is almost worth me giving up the better part of my Saturday morning. I have been able to make yoga twice a week for the last few weeks though, and it has been amazing. I spend so much time rushing from place to place and being on my feet that twice a week is barely enough decompression time. I'm pretty sure it'll balance out though--it's only my first week of a full course load. Oooh, other cool thing that happened this week: I got a new phone. And a real plan, like with a contract and shit. So I now have (though my cell phone) a German land line aaaaaaand a cell phone number. And 100 free texts a month. This just blows my mind. I mean, for those of you who have had American cell phone plans forever, this is probably not at all interesting. My only prior forays into the world of European cellular technology have been in the prepaid realm, so I find this exciting.
Anyway, I should probably wrap this up and outline some things for Amelie, otherwise I'll have to do it later and let's just say other things are planned.
That's the fun part. It's an exhausting job--don't ever listen to anyone who says otherwise. Little kids suck the lifeblood out of you. There is no better birth control on this earth than working with small children. What's not so much fun is teaching the slightly older kids--you know, the ones in second grade. That is officially my least favorite age. I teach these kids in Horte (plural of Hort), which are the after school programs (I think partially government subsidized) where the kids hang out from 1pm until whenever their parents are done with work, which can be as early as three pm or as late as five or six. Although I was in a pretty cool Hort today (music classes, sport classes, swimming, art...anything you could possibly think of, these kids do), I don't know how much of a fan I am. My initial impression is that there are always WAY too many kids for any number of qualified or unqualified personel to keep an effective eye on, so the kids get up to god-only-knows-what for hours and hours on end. I mean, sure, children need to be able to adapt to social situations and get along with their peers and be able to resolve conflicts, etc. but man...every Hort I've been in, even the best-organized ones, seem like pure chaos. As a result of this, when I get the kids to teach them, they're totally riled up and nigh on impossible to control, let alone teach. I learned a new German word the other day: Verhaltens-auffaellig. Literally translated, it means "noticable behavior". In real words, the kid is hyperactive or has behavioral problems. I definitely do not feel qualified for what I do. I mean, I have an extraordinary amount of natural patience...and I was born speaking English, but really...I have a whole new level of respect for elementary school and preschool teachers. They are superhuman individuals, that's for damn sure.
In other news...working out has been a fabulous release. The only problem is, I come home and I'm utterly exhausted. And I have little or no interest in working out. I crashed today for like, an hour. Stephan took one look at me and was just like "aaaand you're going to bed!" so I slept for an hour. Now I'm functional and putting off putting together material for Amelie, the nine year old that I tutor in German. Well, mostly German. We're supposed to do Math, too...but let's be honest, Math sucks. She's a sweet girl, and her parents are a riot. And the money is almost worth me giving up the better part of my Saturday morning. I have been able to make yoga twice a week for the last few weeks though, and it has been amazing. I spend so much time rushing from place to place and being on my feet that twice a week is barely enough decompression time. I'm pretty sure it'll balance out though--it's only my first week of a full course load. Oooh, other cool thing that happened this week: I got a new phone. And a real plan, like with a contract and shit. So I now have (though my cell phone) a German land line aaaaaaand a cell phone number. And 100 free texts a month. This just blows my mind. I mean, for those of you who have had American cell phone plans forever, this is probably not at all interesting. My only prior forays into the world of European cellular technology have been in the prepaid realm, so I find this exciting.
Anyway, I should probably wrap this up and outline some things for Amelie, otherwise I'll have to do it later and let's just say other things are planned.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Real Internet (among other things)
Just so everyone knows, we at Boxhagener strasse 102 are now officially paying consumers of the internet, as opposed to syphoners of other people's wireless (as we were for the last three and a half weeks). It's glorious. I'm thoroughly enjoying writing this and not being out on the dark, cold balcony with the laundry. And the tram.
Today was pretty productive, considering it's still school vacation so I still haven't "really" started working yet. I was at Immigration Services again and finally managed to hand in ALL my paperwork for my visa and my green card. It's a good feeling...except for the whole "don't call us, we'll call you" the woman gave me before I left. That's always just a tad disconcerting. After that I interviewed at the Volkshochschule (kind of like a community college, but without the degrees--more like adult ed), and I'm now slated to be teaching a business English class twice weekly from November to December. It should be a nice way to pick up some cash before the holidays (and before I have to start paying taxes here...). Next week I've got another interview with a company that provides kids with tutors--we'll see if I have time for them. Sadly, the institute for Kurdish studies in Berlin hasn't got back to me after cancelling my interview (the day of) a week ago. Sad, because the guy sounded nice and it would have been cool to say that I'd worked for them.
Other developments include me getting my training plan for the gym (yeah, I think I've been ther every day this week, which scares me)...and that'd be about it. I'm actually pretty excited about the whole fitness thing. I mean, Stephan and Julia are really into it, which gives me added motivation to go, and added motivation not to cop out when I'm there. But this gym is awesome and did all kinds of neat tests when we all signed up, and even though I've lost weight since college ended, one could say that the results were...motivating. Which I suppose is good. I'm interested to see if the new trainings plan yields results, or if my trainer Janine is full of crap. I can safely say that the yoga class they offer there is fabulous. A real quality mix between getting your om on and really challenging poses and stretches. I felt so great afterwards. I also thing the whole zen centerdness of it is going to help me keep levelled out with all the cohabitation and weird relationship dynamics floating around here. Nobody get freaked out: I still like the dynamic of my relationship...it's just that when you live with another couple, sometimes shit is weird. Like when they have a tiff, and one of them is really being an ass. Or whatever. My work schedule, once it starts is going to be pretty insane as well. Fortunately my 2 tutoring clients are only once a week--all I have to keep straight aside from that is which Kindergarten I'm supposed to be at with which paperwork and whether or not it's a business English night. I really hope I'm up to this...it's scary. At least I got the wrangling with the Labor/Immigration offices out of the way while I wasn't really working. Hopefully. Because none of the jobs I have are ones where I can be like "oh, sorry--I'll be late/I was late because..." Well, I mean, you can always say it, but here it goes over a whole lot less well than at home.
Ooh, I also used the internet to load pictures of the apartment up onto Facebook. So if you look at this and not that, check them out. All right. I think it's time for me to brush my teeth and continue reading hilarious celebrity gossip/satire in bed. From the internet. Cause I can.
Today was pretty productive, considering it's still school vacation so I still haven't "really" started working yet. I was at Immigration Services again and finally managed to hand in ALL my paperwork for my visa and my green card. It's a good feeling...except for the whole "don't call us, we'll call you" the woman gave me before I left. That's always just a tad disconcerting. After that I interviewed at the Volkshochschule (kind of like a community college, but without the degrees--more like adult ed), and I'm now slated to be teaching a business English class twice weekly from November to December. It should be a nice way to pick up some cash before the holidays (and before I have to start paying taxes here...). Next week I've got another interview with a company that provides kids with tutors--we'll see if I have time for them. Sadly, the institute for Kurdish studies in Berlin hasn't got back to me after cancelling my interview (the day of) a week ago. Sad, because the guy sounded nice and it would have been cool to say that I'd worked for them.
Other developments include me getting my training plan for the gym (yeah, I think I've been ther every day this week, which scares me)...and that'd be about it. I'm actually pretty excited about the whole fitness thing. I mean, Stephan and Julia are really into it, which gives me added motivation to go, and added motivation not to cop out when I'm there. But this gym is awesome and did all kinds of neat tests when we all signed up, and even though I've lost weight since college ended, one could say that the results were...motivating. Which I suppose is good. I'm interested to see if the new trainings plan yields results, or if my trainer Janine is full of crap. I can safely say that the yoga class they offer there is fabulous. A real quality mix between getting your om on and really challenging poses and stretches. I felt so great afterwards. I also thing the whole zen centerdness of it is going to help me keep levelled out with all the cohabitation and weird relationship dynamics floating around here. Nobody get freaked out: I still like the dynamic of my relationship...it's just that when you live with another couple, sometimes shit is weird. Like when they have a tiff, and one of them is really being an ass. Or whatever. My work schedule, once it starts is going to be pretty insane as well. Fortunately my 2 tutoring clients are only once a week--all I have to keep straight aside from that is which Kindergarten I'm supposed to be at with which paperwork and whether or not it's a business English night. I really hope I'm up to this...it's scary. At least I got the wrangling with the Labor/Immigration offices out of the way while I wasn't really working. Hopefully. Because none of the jobs I have are ones where I can be like "oh, sorry--I'll be late/I was late because..." Well, I mean, you can always say it, but here it goes over a whole lot less well than at home.
Ooh, I also used the internet to load pictures of the apartment up onto Facebook. So if you look at this and not that, check them out. All right. I think it's time for me to brush my teeth and continue reading hilarious celebrity gossip/satire in bed. From the internet. Cause I can.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
round 1: Immigration Authority 1,000,000,000 Me: -234,927,928,347
I'm frustrated. I waited around for hours, compiled 3 different applications and achieved absolutely nothing. I couldn't even give them to the man behind the counter. I mean, I wasn't expecting to walk out of there today with a residency permit and a work permit, but damn! Total and utter defeat wasn't necessarily on the docket, either. Whoah! So I'm disgruntled about that and hoping that the two back-to-back job interviews I have tomorrow go better. And that my boss lets me know what I can do about this whole pesky "am I a freelancer or am I not" debacle. And that someone tells me what goddamned application I need to file next, cause the guy at Immigration was an ass-HOLE.
Grrr.
It's also gone from cold and rainy this morning to just plan bloody cold. Stephan and Christian have been gone all afternoon doing random shit--Stephan had a few job interviews and I assume Christian was just along for the ride. I've just been informed that I'm "allowed" to cook dinner tonight, which is a kind of hilarious situation, because I live with two guys who both cook well and enjoy it. I've got to say though, sadly I'm not in the mood for the job or the desired dish. But whatever, I'm going running with Julia at seven, whether or not they've returned from wherever they've been. Yay for physical activity as a way to cope with stress! However, I've been out here for fucking hours. We can get real internet aaaany time. It'd be fine with me.
Grrr.
It's also gone from cold and rainy this morning to just plan bloody cold. Stephan and Christian have been gone all afternoon doing random shit--Stephan had a few job interviews and I assume Christian was just along for the ride. I've just been informed that I'm "allowed" to cook dinner tonight, which is a kind of hilarious situation, because I live with two guys who both cook well and enjoy it. I've got to say though, sadly I'm not in the mood for the job or the desired dish. But whatever, I'm going running with Julia at seven, whether or not they've returned from wherever they've been. Yay for physical activity as a way to cope with stress! However, I've been out here for fucking hours. We can get real internet aaaany time. It'd be fine with me.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
The Himmel Ueber Berlin
...is cold and grey.
And the wireless is sort of on the fritz again. We'll see if this successfully posts. Yesterday was German Unification Day. We didn't really celebrate: I drank half a gin tonic and we watched Enemy of the State. Stephan's mum and Max came by on their way back from Schierke, which was cool. Stephan obsessively compulsively cleaned the apartment before they came, even though it wasn't dirty, and then proceeded to forget where he'd put the keys when we went out to help them unload the car--leading us all to believe we were locked the fuck out on another typicall cold, mies Berlin afternoon. I think he was a tad nervous. Not to fear--Angie (his mum) loved the apartment, and in his brother's eyes, wherever Stephan lives will be some kind of temple to awesomeness. Younger siblings are great like that.
So far today I've been shot down by the Auslanderbehoerde (Immigration Department) and had minor success on other fronts (I got a tutoring client, I left a voicemail with the new talent scout for Berlitz language camps and my boss will, I believe, pay for my month-transport-pass). But back to my crushing defeat: after spending WAY too much time pacing the apartment, being on hold, I get to talk to this real live woman, to whom I spin my very sad story
"Hi, yeah, I'm sure you hear this all the time, but my situation is really urgent. I was supposed to start work last Monday," (they don't need to know that I actually did start), "and I really really need my Aufenthaltsgenemigung (Visa-ish) and my Arbeitserlaubnis (Green Card), like, now, so I was wondering if I could make an appointment with you."
To which the heartless dame says "Well, actually the best thing for you to do is to just come in during our regular hours and wait, because the earliest appointment we can give you would be in 4-6 weeks."
At which point I start tearing my hair and gnashing my teeth. Why? Because the Auslanderbehoerde in Berlin is Not A Nice Place. People are so desperate to get in that they sleep there. Yeah. And my chances of actually getting in and getting my business dealt with in a timely fashion are...slim to none. Julia, who's here on a high-powered internship is STILL waiting for her paperwork to go through. I have no internship and no well-funded foundation who's got my back. All I have is a German-national boyfriend and a part-time job. Yeah...not feeling too good about this one, to be honest. I mean, technically, I have two weeks of vacation before things really get going and I really need to have this under control. And technically, I have until...December before I'm no longer legal to be here. Can the German beauracracy actually take that long to issue a Visa and a work permit? Ohhhhhh yes they can. It is this, this that oppresses my soul.
It's cold out on my balcony, though, so I think I'm going to take a break and wash some dishes.
And the wireless is sort of on the fritz again. We'll see if this successfully posts. Yesterday was German Unification Day. We didn't really celebrate: I drank half a gin tonic and we watched Enemy of the State. Stephan's mum and Max came by on their way back from Schierke, which was cool. Stephan obsessively compulsively cleaned the apartment before they came, even though it wasn't dirty, and then proceeded to forget where he'd put the keys when we went out to help them unload the car--leading us all to believe we were locked the fuck out on another typicall cold, mies Berlin afternoon. I think he was a tad nervous. Not to fear--Angie (his mum) loved the apartment, and in his brother's eyes, wherever Stephan lives will be some kind of temple to awesomeness. Younger siblings are great like that.
So far today I've been shot down by the Auslanderbehoerde (Immigration Department) and had minor success on other fronts (I got a tutoring client, I left a voicemail with the new talent scout for Berlitz language camps and my boss will, I believe, pay for my month-transport-pass). But back to my crushing defeat: after spending WAY too much time pacing the apartment, being on hold, I get to talk to this real live woman, to whom I spin my very sad story
"Hi, yeah, I'm sure you hear this all the time, but my situation is really urgent. I was supposed to start work last Monday," (they don't need to know that I actually did start), "and I really really need my Aufenthaltsgenemigung (Visa-ish) and my Arbeitserlaubnis (Green Card), like, now, so I was wondering if I could make an appointment with you."
To which the heartless dame says "Well, actually the best thing for you to do is to just come in during our regular hours and wait, because the earliest appointment we can give you would be in 4-6 weeks."
At which point I start tearing my hair and gnashing my teeth. Why? Because the Auslanderbehoerde in Berlin is Not A Nice Place. People are so desperate to get in that they sleep there. Yeah. And my chances of actually getting in and getting my business dealt with in a timely fashion are...slim to none. Julia, who's here on a high-powered internship is STILL waiting for her paperwork to go through. I have no internship and no well-funded foundation who's got my back. All I have is a German-national boyfriend and a part-time job. Yeah...not feeling too good about this one, to be honest. I mean, technically, I have two weeks of vacation before things really get going and I really need to have this under control. And technically, I have until...December before I'm no longer legal to be here. Can the German beauracracy actually take that long to issue a Visa and a work permit? Ohhhhhh yes they can. It is this, this that oppresses my soul.
It's cold out on my balcony, though, so I think I'm going to take a break and wash some dishes.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Argh. I've been trying to get the Auslanderbehoerde (Immigration Office) on the phone essentially since I got up this morning. It took an hour to even get connected to the "Hi. You have reached the office of immigration. All our agents are currently busy. Please hold the line" message, which of course costs me money like whoah. So I did that for ten minutes and then gave up...I've got my cell phone set to automatic redial, which it will do for a half hour at a time. Other than that, I'm still looking for another part time job. Or a full time job for the next two weeks, since it's school vacation in Berlin and when school vacation's on, I work *one* hour a week. It sounds like it should be sweet, but it ain't. I've got two call centers and a hostel lined up--all of which sound nightmarish, yet somehow character-building. More material for my memiors, I suppose. The rest of my to-do list is banal beyond belief and includes some minor bill-paying (my weird-ass, probably entirely invalid insurance policy), some housekeeping (taking out the trash, dishes, grocery shopping) and some light deco-work (finishing touches on the bedroom). And waiting for the laundry to dry. Speaking of insurance and oddly banal things, last week we had the insurance salesman at the house two nights in a row, talking about a joint policy for Stephan and I. Not gonna lie, this freaked me out. I mean, all the talk of death and dismemberment (insurance salesmen are macarbre bastards) was enough fun, but I mean...a joint insurance policy?! I mean, that's like "Committment" with a capital "C". The jury's still out on that. But my liability insurance will definitely be over Stephan's policy. It's weird, all this intensely grown-up stuff. The real world has a hell of a lot of fine print.
Christian and Cindy moved in last monday, so the week was spent getting them settled and getting the kitchen and living room and bath made livable and fusing possessions and whatnot. It looks pretty cool, I have to say. The walls of the living room are still blank white, which is driving Stephan a little crazy, but we'll get around to painting them eventually. So far, living with the two of them has been all right...I did have a few homicidal moments, but it was a rough week in general. I don't necessarily take it as an indicator of how thing's are going to be. And when it gets a little too intensely German (for example, discussions of which rooms in the apartment will be heated in the winter) for me, I can always peace out. I'm sure I'll be able to get along with them--they're very very nice, but yeah...I don't have any real desire to make them my best-est friends. They're a little too...beige for me. Conventional, quiet, nice...people that like toast. Perhaps with jam. And tea. They like board games. You know the type. Cindy formulates about 85% of her sentances as questions. You get the idea.
GOD! I swear, I'm going to have to get up at 6:55 in the morning and call these people. The hell of it is, all I want to do is make an appointment so I don't have to spend an entire day of my life sitting down there. Granted, technically I do have the time right about now to spend waiting hours and hours for bad-tempered German beauracrats to tell me I've got the wrong papers for my visa application...but yeah, that's not fun. OOOOh. It just occurred to me, something else I can do while I'm completely and utterly alone in the apartment (tomorrow is the German Unification Day--national holiday, so Cindy and Christian went home, and Stephan is doing a day of "trial work" at some call center and won't be back till 6.) I can finally upload pictures of my apartment to the facebook. Or gmail. Or anyplace, really. Providing the somewhat finicky wireless connection keeps up. Good stuff. But first the visa bill. And maybe a shower.
Christian and Cindy moved in last monday, so the week was spent getting them settled and getting the kitchen and living room and bath made livable and fusing possessions and whatnot. It looks pretty cool, I have to say. The walls of the living room are still blank white, which is driving Stephan a little crazy, but we'll get around to painting them eventually. So far, living with the two of them has been all right...I did have a few homicidal moments, but it was a rough week in general. I don't necessarily take it as an indicator of how thing's are going to be. And when it gets a little too intensely German (for example, discussions of which rooms in the apartment will be heated in the winter) for me, I can always peace out. I'm sure I'll be able to get along with them--they're very very nice, but yeah...I don't have any real desire to make them my best-est friends. They're a little too...beige for me. Conventional, quiet, nice...people that like toast. Perhaps with jam. And tea. They like board games. You know the type. Cindy formulates about 85% of her sentances as questions. You get the idea.
GOD! I swear, I'm going to have to get up at 6:55 in the morning and call these people. The hell of it is, all I want to do is make an appointment so I don't have to spend an entire day of my life sitting down there. Granted, technically I do have the time right about now to spend waiting hours and hours for bad-tempered German beauracrats to tell me I've got the wrong papers for my visa application...but yeah, that's not fun. OOOOh. It just occurred to me, something else I can do while I'm completely and utterly alone in the apartment (tomorrow is the German Unification Day--national holiday, so Cindy and Christian went home, and Stephan is doing a day of "trial work" at some call center and won't be back till 6.) I can finally upload pictures of my apartment to the facebook. Or gmail. Or anyplace, really. Providing the somewhat finicky wireless connection keeps up. Good stuff. But first the visa bill. And maybe a shower.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Arrived
So. This would be the famous "I have arrived" post. Meaning that I've arrived safely not only in Germany, but in Rostock and Berlin in turn as well. The first three weeks have been beyond hectic. It was great seeing Stephan's grandparents (I hunted for mushrooms in the German mountains. It was a very Little Red Riding Hood moment.) and everyone in Rostock. We're finally relatively settled in Berlin (we moved all our possessions in a re-conditioned VW van which had formerly served in the German army) although boxes are still all over the place--we've got laminate and orange paint in the bedroom and a relatively well-ordered kitchen. It's a start. The housemates moved in on Monday, which is requiring some...getting used to. I'm very very cautiously optimistic, but more on that later if I really need to vent.
I taught my first courses with wee small children yesterday, and to the best of my knowledge, they went pretty well. No one died, there were no other injuries and I think they just might have learned something. Maybe. We morphed into aeroplanes and trucks. It was pretty cool. I get to use a hand pupped named Danny. However, the number of hours I was initially promised and the number of hours that materialized on my schedule are...discrepant (can you say that?), so I'm still involved in the reciprocating shitstorm that is looking for a job in Berlin. So far I have positive feedback from a firm that offers tutoring services, and I'm applying to another tutoring/teaching company (well, okay...I should be applying to another one) as I'm writing this. Okay. Application successfully sent. Now I'm only putting off calling the third tutoring firm. I just hate phoning people in German. It's not that I can't do it, it's just that I know I make a far better impression in English or in person. And especially when you're asking for a job, it's terribly important to make a good impression. Fortunately, I'm applying for jobs that require/emphasize my foreignness, so I guess perhaps my occasionally bastardized declinations add to my authenticity...? Let's hope.
The whole "co-habitiation" thing is both more and less of an adjustment than I thought. The fact of the matter is that my relationship with Stephan is at it's best when it's just us. For whatever reason, whenever you add other people, one of us starts acting weird or dumb. I've noticed it about him and about myself...I don't know why that is. So yeah, when it was just the two of us chilling in this sweet ass apartment, it was amazing. Now that there are constantly two other people around, it's not always so cool. And I don't want to prevaricate, here. The stress has really been killer for me. We were back up in the Ha-Ro this past weekend for Max's birthday (Stephan's little brother), and I was incapacitated the whole time with fucking hellish stomachaches. I think it was a combination of not eating/irregular eating, stress and nerves. But other than that, the weekend was wonderful. Max is a darling and really loved the poker set and the Dan Brown book I brought him. The last night we were there, he got a little tipsy and asked me where I saw myself in ten years. I think that was his sweet 16 year old way of saying he hopes I'll stick around for a while. During my whole stomach-wretchedness, I must say Stephan was practically Florence Nightengale personified, which I hadn't really expected. However, today it's back to the grind. I've been on the computer doing job shit pretty much all day and in an hour, the insurance consultant is coming by to (hopefully) make us a better offer on my health insurance. It'd be nice to not pay almost 500 Euros. Less would be great. Money is (as always) an issue. Stephan's fronted most of my set up costs, which is great of him, but as much as he'd like the world to believe it, he's not made of money and I'm not going to get paid by BKS (my main job) until mid October. Shitty, but real. Oh well. I suppose I ought to continue being productive...or go make myself a snack.
I taught my first courses with wee small children yesterday, and to the best of my knowledge, they went pretty well. No one died, there were no other injuries and I think they just might have learned something. Maybe. We morphed into aeroplanes and trucks. It was pretty cool. I get to use a hand pupped named Danny. However, the number of hours I was initially promised and the number of hours that materialized on my schedule are...discrepant (can you say that?), so I'm still involved in the reciprocating shitstorm that is looking for a job in Berlin. So far I have positive feedback from a firm that offers tutoring services, and I'm applying to another tutoring/teaching company (well, okay...I should be applying to another one) as I'm writing this. Okay. Application successfully sent. Now I'm only putting off calling the third tutoring firm. I just hate phoning people in German. It's not that I can't do it, it's just that I know I make a far better impression in English or in person. And especially when you're asking for a job, it's terribly important to make a good impression. Fortunately, I'm applying for jobs that require/emphasize my foreignness, so I guess perhaps my occasionally bastardized declinations add to my authenticity...? Let's hope.
The whole "co-habitiation" thing is both more and less of an adjustment than I thought. The fact of the matter is that my relationship with Stephan is at it's best when it's just us. For whatever reason, whenever you add other people, one of us starts acting weird or dumb. I've noticed it about him and about myself...I don't know why that is. So yeah, when it was just the two of us chilling in this sweet ass apartment, it was amazing. Now that there are constantly two other people around, it's not always so cool. And I don't want to prevaricate, here. The stress has really been killer for me. We were back up in the Ha-Ro this past weekend for Max's birthday (Stephan's little brother), and I was incapacitated the whole time with fucking hellish stomachaches. I think it was a combination of not eating/irregular eating, stress and nerves. But other than that, the weekend was wonderful. Max is a darling and really loved the poker set and the Dan Brown book I brought him. The last night we were there, he got a little tipsy and asked me where I saw myself in ten years. I think that was his sweet 16 year old way of saying he hopes I'll stick around for a while. During my whole stomach-wretchedness, I must say Stephan was practically Florence Nightengale personified, which I hadn't really expected. However, today it's back to the grind. I've been on the computer doing job shit pretty much all day and in an hour, the insurance consultant is coming by to (hopefully) make us a better offer on my health insurance. It'd be nice to not pay almost 500 Euros. Less would be great. Money is (as always) an issue. Stephan's fronted most of my set up costs, which is great of him, but as much as he'd like the world to believe it, he's not made of money and I'm not going to get paid by BKS (my main job) until mid October. Shitty, but real. Oh well. I suppose I ought to continue being productive...or go make myself a snack.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
"T" is for Take-off...
Damn. So I leave tomorrow evening. I've got so much more stuff to do, it's insane. I'm almost entirely packed, though, which is the important thing. It's just trying to clean up the chaos my room's become in the last 6 weeks that'll be the challenge. That and making sure I remember to do all the inane little things like make enough copies of my college diploma, print off passport-sized pictures for my visa, etc. etc. I spent some time with my grandparents today, which was awesome because they're hilarious, but also bittersweet because they're so frank about their advanced age and what that means. I mean, the fact of the matter is, I don't know when I'm coming back, my grandfather's going to be 93 this fall and although the doctor said last week that he has the colon of a teenager, unfortunately that's not everything. It's weird and selfish and whatever, but I'm not at all ready for them to die. They've been so supportive of me in whatever I've wanted to do or become...and they're so damn funny! When someone is so alert and sharp mentally, it makes it all that much harder to fathom that their body might be failing them. That makes it hard to leave. As does my parents' raging empty nest syndrome. My dad just sat in my sister's room (yes Janie, I packed in your room. Mine was a cesspit. I swear, I'll clean it...) and watched me pack. It was heartbreaking. Karen and Peter (my godparents) came by tonight to say goodbye, too. They're hilarious--Karen gave me these insane orange and pink knitted socks, which are actually the perfect gift, given that I constantly get shit from my German friends for a.) never wearing socks and b.) the ones that I do wear being grey-white and grungy.
On an entirely different note, the facebook now officially freaks me out. Of course I picked today to reject the five people who I'd left in "friend-limbo" for like, months if not years. Oh well. I mean, there were at least two of them who I really didn't have any idea who they were. But that is some creepy shit right there. I mean, everyone has a little bit of voyeur in them, but I'm sorry to say that the idea of who "friends" who on the facebook, or what groups everyone joins does not interest me in the slightest. The one thing I do like is that they now highlight what parts of people's profiles get changed. That's cool. Other than that...they should take it down a notch. Whoah.
Aaaanyway, there are about eighteen million things I need to be doing, not the least of which is composing a damn mass-email with a link to this in it. Or maybe sleeping. Sleep would be good. It's strange to think that the next bed I sleep in is going to be on a different continent. It still doesn't seem real at all. And I know it won't until I get there. I think that might be what I like about traveling--the way you're suspended between places. Nothing's really real to me when I'm sitting on an airplane flying over the Atlantic. I've got to be honest, I can't wait to see Stephan and the whole Rostock crew. It'll be stressful and all, but hopefully one of my interviews will pan out and things will start taking shape. I won't be able to post for a little while--until we're moved and have internet hooked up in the new apartment in Berlin, so this is tschao until probably the end of the month. By then I'll either be so psychotically busy that this will go entirely by the wayside, or I'll still be unemployed and stressed beyond belief. I don't know which of those to hope for, but let's go with the one that grants me a source of income.
until that day.
On an entirely different note, the facebook now officially freaks me out. Of course I picked today to reject the five people who I'd left in "friend-limbo" for like, months if not years. Oh well. I mean, there were at least two of them who I really didn't have any idea who they were. But that is some creepy shit right there. I mean, everyone has a little bit of voyeur in them, but I'm sorry to say that the idea of who "friends" who on the facebook, or what groups everyone joins does not interest me in the slightest. The one thing I do like is that they now highlight what parts of people's profiles get changed. That's cool. Other than that...they should take it down a notch. Whoah.
Aaaanyway, there are about eighteen million things I need to be doing, not the least of which is composing a damn mass-email with a link to this in it. Or maybe sleeping. Sleep would be good. It's strange to think that the next bed I sleep in is going to be on a different continent. It still doesn't seem real at all. And I know it won't until I get there. I think that might be what I like about traveling--the way you're suspended between places. Nothing's really real to me when I'm sitting on an airplane flying over the Atlantic. I've got to be honest, I can't wait to see Stephan and the whole Rostock crew. It'll be stressful and all, but hopefully one of my interviews will pan out and things will start taking shape. I won't be able to post for a little while--until we're moved and have internet hooked up in the new apartment in Berlin, so this is tschao until probably the end of the month. By then I'll either be so psychotically busy that this will go entirely by the wayside, or I'll still be unemployed and stressed beyond belief. I don't know which of those to hope for, but let's go with the one that grants me a source of income.
until that day.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Aw shit, son...
So things are getting a little real up here in the wilderness. I leave in...three days. I started packing yesterday. Despite what might seem to be a bit of a late start, things are going well enough. Instead of taking the enormous body bag of yore, I'm rocking the two lovely aubergine duffels that have been a part of my family's luggage collection since I can remember. I think stuffing them to the gills with anything other than bricks will leave me shy of the weight limit and they're not half as visually intimidating (I think it's the color, personally), so I'm feeling pretty good. Now if only the pesky outstanding bills from Maine General would just *vanish*, I'd be in fairly good shape.
Apparently, I almost have an apartment--we'll hear next week sometime whether or not we have it for real, but it's in a wonderful neighborhood and the rent will be really really reasonable. If not...well, let's just not think about that. I have an interview lined up for the Sunday after I get back, and I just applied for two more jobs. Soooo I'm really hoping that this starts to come together. I mean, I've been living with this specter of no-fucking-plan looming over me for so long now that the panic attacks and such are starting to become de rigeur. Which worries me. For survival purposes I've adopted a very zen "it'll be" kind of attitude, but don't let it fool you: I'm fucking terrified. This whole caper requires a set of committments and risks that I've never had to square with before, and well...yeah. I have no idea whether or not I'm "man" enough for this undertaking. The way I look at it, though, that's not what counts. I do believe that I have enough grit in me to hack it, as long as I have good people around who've somewhat got my back. And for those of you who're concerned, that appears to be the case.
I was talking to Benny today and he managed to de-mystify the business world for me somewhat. The challenge is really going to be applying all of that on an intercontinental level. I mean, there's shit I could do over here that's respectable as all get-out, and I really don't believe myself that the only thing I'm qualified to do in Germany is play with small children (despite how gratifying it may or may not be)...but if it pays the bills until I can worm my way into another racket, then so be it. Whew. We'll see. I mean, if nothing else, it's something novel to do for another year of my life. Although, truth be told, I am getting just a tad tired of the year-to-year kind of life. You know, nine months here, nine months there, three months there kind of thing. Not that I'm ready to really put down roots, but you know. Some temporary roots might be nice. You know. A year or two or three. Germany would be an okay way to spend my 20s.
Anyway. Enough of this. There's bags to be packed and lunches to be made and dogs to be looked after. And turtles. (I'm keeping an eye on the neighbors animals for a few days. Whee!)
Apparently, I almost have an apartment--we'll hear next week sometime whether or not we have it for real, but it's in a wonderful neighborhood and the rent will be really really reasonable. If not...well, let's just not think about that. I have an interview lined up for the Sunday after I get back, and I just applied for two more jobs. Soooo I'm really hoping that this starts to come together. I mean, I've been living with this specter of no-fucking-plan looming over me for so long now that the panic attacks and such are starting to become de rigeur. Which worries me. For survival purposes I've adopted a very zen "it'll be" kind of attitude, but don't let it fool you: I'm fucking terrified. This whole caper requires a set of committments and risks that I've never had to square with before, and well...yeah. I have no idea whether or not I'm "man" enough for this undertaking. The way I look at it, though, that's not what counts. I do believe that I have enough grit in me to hack it, as long as I have good people around who've somewhat got my back. And for those of you who're concerned, that appears to be the case.
I was talking to Benny today and he managed to de-mystify the business world for me somewhat. The challenge is really going to be applying all of that on an intercontinental level. I mean, there's shit I could do over here that's respectable as all get-out, and I really don't believe myself that the only thing I'm qualified to do in Germany is play with small children (despite how gratifying it may or may not be)...but if it pays the bills until I can worm my way into another racket, then so be it. Whew. We'll see. I mean, if nothing else, it's something novel to do for another year of my life. Although, truth be told, I am getting just a tad tired of the year-to-year kind of life. You know, nine months here, nine months there, three months there kind of thing. Not that I'm ready to really put down roots, but you know. Some temporary roots might be nice. You know. A year or two or three. Germany would be an okay way to spend my 20s.
Anyway. Enough of this. There's bags to be packed and lunches to be made and dogs to be looked after. And turtles. (I'm keeping an eye on the neighbors animals for a few days. Whee!)
Monday, August 28, 2006
Cold Feet
...No seriously, they're freezing. Someone decided to turn off the Summer in Maine, so it's rainy and 50 degrees. With eight days (not counting today) left to go before take off, I've finally decided to get off my ass and file the paperwork for forebearance on my second set of loans. Yes, I'm a silly bitch for not having done it sooner. Is procrastination my way of coping with...everything? Also yes. I think "in other news" is going to become my new slogan. It's such a perfect segue. Ahhem. In other news, my baby sister is now officially a college student. I sat through the president's speech, helped her move in, met her roommate and gave her a parting bottle of Tanqueray. Now comes the worrying. I won't write any more, because I don't want her to read this ever and get embarrassed or indignant, but not having her around is absolutely not the same. The drive to and from Connecticut was lovely, though. And my parents are bearing up relatively well, all things considered. I think it'll really hit them after I head out. Which, as we've discussed, is ridiculously soon.
Things to Do Before Take-off:
-cancel Key Bank account
-submit loan paperwork
-pay visa balance
-get wireless card
-uhhh...PACK
-get whatnot for the Fam
(Max, Angie, Peter, Grandparents, house gift for O-str.)
-visit with Grandparents, Mimi, etc.
-clean
...It seems relatively manageable, but then again, who'm I kidding. I know I'm missing something there. Or some thingS. Like time, mostly, since we're switched over to 12 hour days in bread hell and I have two days off before I leave. Yes, two. In other news, I got a really cute email from my German mentor teacher from last year. She invited me to come visit once I'm back in the Ha-Ro and stay with her. Ohhhh Petra. God love her. One of my students is already in the states for her year as an au pair. I wonder how that's going. Anyway, I think it's time for me to go put some socks on or something. Damn!
Things to Do Before Take-off:
-cancel Key Bank account
-submit loan paperwork
-pay visa balance
-get wireless card
-uhhh...PACK
-get whatnot for the Fam
(Max, Angie, Peter, Grandparents, house gift for O-str.)
-visit with Grandparents, Mimi, etc.
-clean
...It seems relatively manageable, but then again, who'm I kidding. I know I'm missing something there. Or some thingS. Like time, mostly, since we're switched over to 12 hour days in bread hell and I have two days off before I leave. Yes, two. In other news, I got a really cute email from my German mentor teacher from last year. She invited me to come visit once I'm back in the Ha-Ro and stay with her. Ohhhh Petra. God love her. One of my students is already in the states for her year as an au pair. I wonder how that's going. Anyway, I think it's time for me to go put some socks on or something. Damn!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
The mechanics do Sudoku
Yeah, I don't know what crosses your mind when you think "bread factory"--but there are some people I work with who go out of their way(s) to remind me that you can't just write off people who do blue collar labor. Most of our mechanics have been military men at some point in their lives, and one of them is always trying to get me to talk about Germany. He was stationed in Italy for eight years and did a lot of European travel, and needless to say, I'm usually happy to oblige him. Today he randomly asked me if the Salman Rushdie book I'm currently reading was the one that got him exiled. Which started he and one of the other mechanics off on a debate of US foreign policy in the late 70s and early 80s, which I must say was relatively informative. So they sit in the break room and share the Sudoku puzzles in the newspaper. I find this hilarious, I really do. Not because of who they are, but because this Asian mental math puzzle has swept over the fucking world. Celine did them with vigor, Stephan bought a book of them for the bus ride back from Wernigerode, Colleen loves them too...It's not just for math nerds. I'm astounded. I personally will have nothing to do with these little boxes and their numbers, but it's spread faster than the Atkins diet. I wonder if it effects your thought patterns. I'm sure it's as good as crosswords for warding off Alzheimers and toning up your brain synapses. Anyway, as with most trendy things, I plan on keeping my distance and then moving in for the kill when it's "over". I don't do this intentionally, it's just a pattern I've noticed. Especially with music. I catch these thing just a little bit later, usually.
Other things I've learned while working at the bread factory this summer include but are not limited to: why the "taint" is called the taint ('taint your balls but it 'taint your ass, either), how to de-code prison tats (the three digits are the area code of the prison and the letter is the cell block), that at Bob Jones University, you are not allowed to wear flip flops (I think it's because with that thong all up between your toes, you could get some pretty impure thoughts. I mean, don't you?) and that theoretically, it is possible to make a bowl out of an apple. H'm.
My iPod has been on the blink for the last few days--telling me all kinds of hogwash like it's empty when I know damn well it's almost full...and wonder of wonders, when I hooked it up to my computer, thinking that I'd have to go through the arduous task of switching everything over again, there was all my shit. Like it had never even pretended to vanish. Bastards. And by that I mean "I love you!". Obviously. In other news, I am allowed two 50 lb. bags by Air Canada, and will be fined a flat rate of $25 for any bags between 51 and 69 lbs. I am also allowed 4 oz. of KY Jelly by the TSA. Just in case. Mmmmhmmm. Right. Other than not being able to bring my own water on the flight, or any lip gloss in glossy form, it sounds like we're going to be all right, here. Unless of course, Logan International is the hell hole it tends to be. My parents, in their haste to have a house entirely free of offspring are putting me on the bus in Portland. My inner child is pissed as hell. My outer adult understands completely and knows that I am so man enough to navigate any airport on earth with 2 50 lb. bags, a computer, a carry-on and my 4 oz. of KY Jelly. Damn right. I closed 2 bank accounts today. One more to go. Up next: the visa bill. I am terrible at adult things.
Two days and counting until the nine days of hell on earth are over.
Other things I've learned while working at the bread factory this summer include but are not limited to: why the "taint" is called the taint ('taint your balls but it 'taint your ass, either), how to de-code prison tats (the three digits are the area code of the prison and the letter is the cell block), that at Bob Jones University, you are not allowed to wear flip flops (I think it's because with that thong all up between your toes, you could get some pretty impure thoughts. I mean, don't you?) and that theoretically, it is possible to make a bowl out of an apple. H'm.
My iPod has been on the blink for the last few days--telling me all kinds of hogwash like it's empty when I know damn well it's almost full...and wonder of wonders, when I hooked it up to my computer, thinking that I'd have to go through the arduous task of switching everything over again, there was all my shit. Like it had never even pretended to vanish. Bastards. And by that I mean "I love you!". Obviously. In other news, I am allowed two 50 lb. bags by Air Canada, and will be fined a flat rate of $25 for any bags between 51 and 69 lbs. I am also allowed 4 oz. of KY Jelly by the TSA. Just in case. Mmmmhmmm. Right. Other than not being able to bring my own water on the flight, or any lip gloss in glossy form, it sounds like we're going to be all right, here. Unless of course, Logan International is the hell hole it tends to be. My parents, in their haste to have a house entirely free of offspring are putting me on the bus in Portland. My inner child is pissed as hell. My outer adult understands completely and knows that I am so man enough to navigate any airport on earth with 2 50 lb. bags, a computer, a carry-on and my 4 oz. of KY Jelly. Damn right. I closed 2 bank accounts today. One more to go. Up next: the visa bill. I am terrible at adult things.
Two days and counting until the nine days of hell on earth are over.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Sixteen Days
Am I counting down? I am so counting down. Work is hell and the sweet born-again-christian girl that I gossip with got done today to go back to Bob Jones University. Yes, I'm serious. Honestly, though, I think I would talk to Dick Cheney if he showed up at the Bitchen Kitchen, I get so bored sometimes. My nine day strech of special hell is over in 3 days. I'm celebrating by taking my baby sister down to Conn-College in New London, Connecticut. I've also made an executive decision that I'm going to start pronouncing that subversive "C" that hides in there, waiting for you to not put it in and look like an ass. In other news, it's rained the last two days and I've been in a foul mood for the last...several, so I decided to spare cyberspace my pissy rantings. Stephan's birthday was Sunday and although he got to go out boozing girlfriend-free for the evening, he did a mean impersonation of being depressed that I wasn't there. I mean pretty impressive shit here, considering he's usually the human sunbeam. On the job front, despite my unbelievable set of qualifications for, well...life, no one is beating down my door to hire me. And because that would involve (for the most part) an intercontinental flight, I do not begrudge them this. But beating down my inbox would be nice of them. Reallllly nice. My eccentric uncle Steve and his 22 year old special czech lady friend are leaving the country tomorrow. I made them both promise to write me and tell me what hell security was like so that I can mentally and materially prepare myself. Bribes and sexual favors might be necessary. Or just a quick look at the Air Canada website. Either/or.
My grandmother came to dinner last night. In turquoise velour. And was told by my sister that I hadn't done laundry in the last 3 weeks. Which is a flagrant lie, ladies and gentleman. It may or may not have been two and a half, and I may or may not have been begged by my mother (why she's suddenly concerned is a mystery to me, I've done my own washing since I was nine), but I haven't yet run out of socks or underwear. We're still sanitary here, people. Besides, after having to obsessively track the laundry-token-girl of my apartment building all year so that I might have the privelidge of paying her to use the often broken, sometimes flooded laundry facility...la casa Mama has it goin' on laundry-wise. But anyway, my grandmother was in her usual fine form. As I may have mentioned, she's a little loopy from the Alzheimers, which pains me, because everyone always baits her with these little "reminders" like "Oh, you were up for dinner a few weeks ago, remember Mum/Gran/Mary?" or "You were out for lunch today, Mary, what did you have?" She doesn't! Asking her about it isn't going to magically make the dementia go away. If I were her, I'd've lashed out long ago with a fabulous "No, damn it, I can't remember! I'm eighty-fucking-four and I'm losing my damn mind, so let me do it in peace!" Because despite her difficulty in remembering who I am if I wear my glasses, or what year she was born in, she's absolutely hilarious. All she needs is the occasional straight man and she'll leave the table in stitches. That's how I want to go. Choking on coffee/gin/water as it comes out my nostrils while I'm laughing. Preferably at a ripe old age, but you know...whatever. She was talking about being cremated and she asked me if I could find a young hunk to bury with her. I told her I'd kill him myself and bribe the funeral home to cremate them together. No, nothing's sacred in our house.
All right. Enough procrastination. Time to see what the damage is, and how many cubic inches I'll have to empty my closet into. Hellooooo Canada Air.
My grandmother came to dinner last night. In turquoise velour. And was told by my sister that I hadn't done laundry in the last 3 weeks. Which is a flagrant lie, ladies and gentleman. It may or may not have been two and a half, and I may or may not have been begged by my mother (why she's suddenly concerned is a mystery to me, I've done my own washing since I was nine), but I haven't yet run out of socks or underwear. We're still sanitary here, people. Besides, after having to obsessively track the laundry-token-girl of my apartment building all year so that I might have the privelidge of paying her to use the often broken, sometimes flooded laundry facility...la casa Mama has it goin' on laundry-wise. But anyway, my grandmother was in her usual fine form. As I may have mentioned, she's a little loopy from the Alzheimers, which pains me, because everyone always baits her with these little "reminders" like "Oh, you were up for dinner a few weeks ago, remember Mum/Gran/Mary?" or "You were out for lunch today, Mary, what did you have?" She doesn't! Asking her about it isn't going to magically make the dementia go away. If I were her, I'd've lashed out long ago with a fabulous "No, damn it, I can't remember! I'm eighty-fucking-four and I'm losing my damn mind, so let me do it in peace!" Because despite her difficulty in remembering who I am if I wear my glasses, or what year she was born in, she's absolutely hilarious. All she needs is the occasional straight man and she'll leave the table in stitches. That's how I want to go. Choking on coffee/gin/water as it comes out my nostrils while I'm laughing. Preferably at a ripe old age, but you know...whatever. She was talking about being cremated and she asked me if I could find a young hunk to bury with her. I told her I'd kill him myself and bribe the funeral home to cremate them together. No, nothing's sacred in our house.
All right. Enough procrastination. Time to see what the damage is, and how many cubic inches I'll have to empty my closet into. Hellooooo Canada Air.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
The bone that I'm picking with cheap, international phone cards...
So I'm irritated again. Why? (I know, I'm concerned for my welfare, too...) Because my goddamn phone card access number is down. When I called tech-support, some man with an unintelligible southern drawl (I consider myself to be good with languages, but I seriously had to have him repeat every other word. All I was understanding was "Ma'am".) told me that some "system" was "down" and I could not use my phone cards (i.e. call my boyfriend) until tomorrow morning. This man obviously does not understand the wrath of a woman denied telephone contact with her Macker. I'm pissed off. So I bought another phone card, from another service provider of course (yaaay for plastic!) and am now waiting with baited breath for the PIN/access number to be emailed to me. (Yaaay for technology!) If this doesn't materialize within the next hour or so, I will be pretty irate. Nothing gets me going like tech failures. However, since I'm trying to distract myself from the fact that I am waiting (which I also hate), I'll tell you about my day.
Scene: Bread Hell, as usual.
Characters: Mosley and Me.
So Mosley, a friend of my estimable little sister and a co-worker of mine (and of course, an all-around swell guy) tells me today that the guys that work in make-up (factory jargon for the men who make the dough for the rolls I package) had a bet going as to whether or not I had children. Apparently they called in Mosley to be judge and jury, because they knew we chatted occasionally. Me. With kids. I nearly choked. Now it's become an inter-departmental joke. My supervisor asks me how my children are doing. I suppose I'd be far more offended if I didn't work someplace where most people had their first kid when they were 20 or under. In Lewiston, Maine being a Mom at my age is relatively normal. While trying to console me, Mosley was like "Wait...doesn't this make you a MILF?" I still can't believe someone would be silly enough to mistake me for a mother. I mean, yes, I currently look like I haven't slept in months, but I still clean up okay damn it! And who the hell am I trying to impress at the bakery anyway? Fuck them for taking the little fun out of having one's boyfriend be across the Atlantic. Bastards. Today was my first day of my nine-day working streak. It's going to get a lot worse than this, I fear. Tomorrow's pay day, though...and let's be honest. That's always a bright spot in my week.
In other news, the Staples guy was apparently unable to install my memory that I bought for my computer. Can the hard drive being too full effect that? I know there's no bloody room left, but what am I supposed to do? It's all important!
...And still no PIN. With my luck, the "system" Mr. Southern was telling me about effects distribution of access numbers as well. Perfect. Oh well. I'll distract myself with more handbag.com.
Scene: Bread Hell, as usual.
Characters: Mosley and Me.
So Mosley, a friend of my estimable little sister and a co-worker of mine (and of course, an all-around swell guy) tells me today that the guys that work in make-up (factory jargon for the men who make the dough for the rolls I package) had a bet going as to whether or not I had children. Apparently they called in Mosley to be judge and jury, because they knew we chatted occasionally. Me. With kids. I nearly choked. Now it's become an inter-departmental joke. My supervisor asks me how my children are doing. I suppose I'd be far more offended if I didn't work someplace where most people had their first kid when they were 20 or under. In Lewiston, Maine being a Mom at my age is relatively normal. While trying to console me, Mosley was like "Wait...doesn't this make you a MILF?" I still can't believe someone would be silly enough to mistake me for a mother. I mean, yes, I currently look like I haven't slept in months, but I still clean up okay damn it! And who the hell am I trying to impress at the bakery anyway? Fuck them for taking the little fun out of having one's boyfriend be across the Atlantic. Bastards. Today was my first day of my nine-day working streak. It's going to get a lot worse than this, I fear. Tomorrow's pay day, though...and let's be honest. That's always a bright spot in my week.
In other news, the Staples guy was apparently unable to install my memory that I bought for my computer. Can the hard drive being too full effect that? I know there's no bloody room left, but what am I supposed to do? It's all important!
...And still no PIN. With my luck, the "system" Mr. Southern was telling me about effects distribution of access numbers as well. Perfect. Oh well. I'll distract myself with more handbag.com.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
What's up, pussycat?
...Nothing much, very little.
My pet hates right now are the new airport security measures. How not excited am I at the prospect of having to carry all the whatnot I need for an 8 hour flight in a clear plastic baggie? ...Oh yes, that's right. Not excited at all. Call me self-interested and short-sighted, but I find this all just a wee bit extreme. I mean, if I were a suicide bomber and I'd gotten caught (oh, did you hear that? There's my FBI file starting...Now), I would make up the most ridiculous things to say. Such as lipstick being involved in the "plot". Or earring backings. Or pantyhose. Banking of course, on the reaction of the Decadent West being to ban the shit out of all those items, thus making the soft, evil, corrupt citizens of these countries even more irritable and uncomfortable. I mean, look at the ease (and by that I mean 'lack of public resistance and outcry') with which the Patriot Act passed. People over here don't care about their major freedoms. They care about having their iPods and eyeliner on their persons during their intercontinental flights. Somehow, I just have the nagging feeling that people are missing the point. I'm not ready to posit any kind of concrete suggestion as to what The Point might be, but I feel almost certain that it's not cell phone batteries, saline solution or nail scissors.
While I'm on a roll here, something else I find delightfully intriguing is that Joe Lieberman lost the Conneticut primary as an incumbent. Now, anyone who sat through electoral politics with Professor Elliott had it hammered into their psyches in that very special Elliott way that it is nigh on impossible for an incumbent (SENATOR!!) to lose his or her seat. There is really next to no turnover in the Senate. People vote for the names they know and love. Seniority is rewarded in the Senate. The Voting Public likes the familiar. Really, it requires something akin to fathering a bi-racial baby with a transvestite crack whore with no green card and then lying about it to un-seat an incumbent Senator. Or, apparently, backing the war in Iraq to the extent that Lieberman did and being a Democrat. Innnnnnnteresting. I mean personally, I think it's about time. He was a shoddy Democrat anyway--and it's good to be rid of him. Perhaps this incident will give the rest of the candidates, incumbent or no, the chutzpah to take decisive stands on the crap policy decisions the president has been making. Maybe even in fabulous areas entirely unrelated to Iraq--like stem cell research or something. But let's face it. I'm probably being overly optimistic again. Ahh well. I was reading an interview with Linda Evangelista, I think...One of those fabulous supermodels that was big when we-all were young, and she was talking about how much she loves fashion and why. Her reason was primarily that she found it terribly exciting how everything changes every six months. I think I understand that. As frustrated as I get with American politics, I love the fact that it's so changeable. Iraq is really so five years ago. Everyone knows Iran is the Iraq that should have been and that Lebanon is just a cheap knock-off distraction. Of course, it's maddening to know that at the time, when everyone else is touting the "clear and present danger" presented by Saddam Hussein and you're getting headaches thinking about the potential repercussions, but that's why, deep down in that dark part of my heart, I am enjoying Lieberman getting his comeuppance. It's called schadenfreude. However, we'll be the ones trafficking in damages if he runs as an Independent, splits the demographic and the Democrats lose the seat. Which is extremely plausible. I mean, honestly--what has he got to lose? If he's been cussed enough to back the Iraq war for this long, how good are the odds that he's suddenly going to grow a spirit of solidarity with the Democratic Cause and bow out like a good sport? Mmm-hmm. I'm thinking slim-to-none. Stubborn bastard.
Whew. That was exciting. However, what I really ought to be doing is finishing the rest of my post cards, wrapping up my pseudo-insurance paperwork and getting dressed so I can run errands this afternoon. I'm off today, so of course the weather is bleak, grey and humid. I love it. Starting tomorrow, I'm working the next nine days straight. Helloooo overtime. And back aches and blisters and open sores on my hands. Okay, maybe I can't call them "sores", but little painful spots where the skin has worn away from touching so much bread without gloves is just a little too long winded even for me. Anyway. I'm signing off for now.
My pet hates right now are the new airport security measures. How not excited am I at the prospect of having to carry all the whatnot I need for an 8 hour flight in a clear plastic baggie? ...Oh yes, that's right. Not excited at all. Call me self-interested and short-sighted, but I find this all just a wee bit extreme. I mean, if I were a suicide bomber and I'd gotten caught (oh, did you hear that? There's my FBI file starting...Now), I would make up the most ridiculous things to say. Such as lipstick being involved in the "plot". Or earring backings. Or pantyhose. Banking of course, on the reaction of the Decadent West being to ban the shit out of all those items, thus making the soft, evil, corrupt citizens of these countries even more irritable and uncomfortable. I mean, look at the ease (and by that I mean 'lack of public resistance and outcry') with which the Patriot Act passed. People over here don't care about their major freedoms. They care about having their iPods and eyeliner on their persons during their intercontinental flights. Somehow, I just have the nagging feeling that people are missing the point. I'm not ready to posit any kind of concrete suggestion as to what The Point might be, but I feel almost certain that it's not cell phone batteries, saline solution or nail scissors.
While I'm on a roll here, something else I find delightfully intriguing is that Joe Lieberman lost the Conneticut primary as an incumbent. Now, anyone who sat through electoral politics with Professor Elliott had it hammered into their psyches in that very special Elliott way that it is nigh on impossible for an incumbent (SENATOR!!) to lose his or her seat. There is really next to no turnover in the Senate. People vote for the names they know and love. Seniority is rewarded in the Senate. The Voting Public likes the familiar. Really, it requires something akin to fathering a bi-racial baby with a transvestite crack whore with no green card and then lying about it to un-seat an incumbent Senator. Or, apparently, backing the war in Iraq to the extent that Lieberman did and being a Democrat. Innnnnnnteresting. I mean personally, I think it's about time. He was a shoddy Democrat anyway--and it's good to be rid of him. Perhaps this incident will give the rest of the candidates, incumbent or no, the chutzpah to take decisive stands on the crap policy decisions the president has been making. Maybe even in fabulous areas entirely unrelated to Iraq--like stem cell research or something. But let's face it. I'm probably being overly optimistic again. Ahh well. I was reading an interview with Linda Evangelista, I think...One of those fabulous supermodels that was big when we-all were young, and she was talking about how much she loves fashion and why. Her reason was primarily that she found it terribly exciting how everything changes every six months. I think I understand that. As frustrated as I get with American politics, I love the fact that it's so changeable. Iraq is really so five years ago. Everyone knows Iran is the Iraq that should have been and that Lebanon is just a cheap knock-off distraction. Of course, it's maddening to know that at the time, when everyone else is touting the "clear and present danger" presented by Saddam Hussein and you're getting headaches thinking about the potential repercussions, but that's why, deep down in that dark part of my heart, I am enjoying Lieberman getting his comeuppance. It's called schadenfreude. However, we'll be the ones trafficking in damages if he runs as an Independent, splits the demographic and the Democrats lose the seat. Which is extremely plausible. I mean, honestly--what has he got to lose? If he's been cussed enough to back the Iraq war for this long, how good are the odds that he's suddenly going to grow a spirit of solidarity with the Democratic Cause and bow out like a good sport? Mmm-hmm. I'm thinking slim-to-none. Stubborn bastard.
Whew. That was exciting. However, what I really ought to be doing is finishing the rest of my post cards, wrapping up my pseudo-insurance paperwork and getting dressed so I can run errands this afternoon. I'm off today, so of course the weather is bleak, grey and humid. I love it. Starting tomorrow, I'm working the next nine days straight. Helloooo overtime. And back aches and blisters and open sores on my hands. Okay, maybe I can't call them "sores", but little painful spots where the skin has worn away from touching so much bread without gloves is just a little too long winded even for me. Anyway. I'm signing off for now.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
my new-old addiction
I've relapsed. I'm ashamed to say I've reverted to my addiction to celebrity gossip. Weird things happen when I can be online as long as I want. One of which is that I start to care...well, okay, maybe not "care" but perhaps show a disproportionate amount of interest in how much Lindsay Lohan's new director hates her partying and/or whether or not Dave Navarro is boning Jenna Jameson. It's a sickness; I realize this. But just in case some of you share this dark, asinine passion, I've found some fabulous links:
- www.thesuperficial.com
- www.jossip.com
- www.handbag.com
People magazine's website is okay for beginners, and I like their slideshows and all...but they're always after you to subscribe. Anyway, spare me the hate on how shallow I am, it's boredom. Really.
Oh, but if you like a hint of glamour with your gossip, check out www.hintmag.com. It's divine, dahhhling.
- www.thesuperficial.com
- www.jossip.com
- www.handbag.com
People magazine's website is okay for beginners, and I like their slideshows and all...but they're always after you to subscribe. Anyway, spare me the hate on how shallow I am, it's boredom. Really.
Oh, but if you like a hint of glamour with your gossip, check out www.hintmag.com. It's divine, dahhhling.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
So yeah. This was supposed to be my profile picture, but I guess it's too big. So says the error message I got. H'm. I'm working on getting a link to my snapfish gallery in here--I realize that for the average individual, this would be no problem whatsoever, but I'm techtarded, so these things take...time. Thus far today I've attempted to be productive and failed countless times. None of which were my fault. I'm less than impressed with Bank of America's business hours and the time it takes their online bill-pay service, though. I did get Zen & The Art of Motorcyle Maintenance and a book by Salman Rushdie at the used book sale this morning. Whee! I look forward to enriching myself slightly. I tried to spell "imitated" today and couldn't remember if doing so involved one "m" or two. And I felt stupid over it. More books must be read to combat this! I should do laundry. It's windy outside, so it would dry pretty well...but it's already so late...damn. I'll compensate by applying for jobs instead.
in the beginning there was...
So. I have a lot of spare time and internet access on my hands. As well as a travel habit which takes me a away for months at a time. Etc. Enough with the justifications--there are a few of you who have lived through my misfortunate previous blog attempts. I think this one will be better. I am, after all, older and wiser. Somewhat. Anyway. An update for those of you with whom I've been out of touch for ages (Sorry--this will hopefully help with that, for those of you who haven't given up on me entirely): I did the whole year of Fulbright thing, and it was fabulous and amazing and full of wonderful people, bizarre meat dishes and just generally (east) German culture flying around all over the place. It was so good in fact (and people's real-world stories so disheartened me) that I thought I'd try to do it again--without the benefit of J. William Fulbright or his fellowship. So right now, I'm home in Maine in the process of applying for any type of job which will keep me fed, clothed and housed in Berlin/Rostock--but mostly Berlin. No, I don't have a visa yet. No this isn't about what I'd like to be doing, it's about where I want to be and who I want to be with (more on that later). So. Now we're all square here.
That was the prologue and the update. Other than that, I haven't got all that much to add. Today I applied for translating jobs at two different companies, and have continued to not apply for the job at SONY International. Probably because it's an HR Manager job that I am in no way qualified to do and would therefore never get. Certain people would say here that I'm being defeatist. I prefer to call this "realism". I've got tomorrow off from Bread Hell--on the docket so far: banking, used book sale at the library, more job applications, potentially a visit to the Grandparents and maybe some laundry. And/or the mailing of things. Or the compillation of impressive lists of Things to Do/Be Acquired. As if this is in any way relevant to much at all. Mmmm, not so much.
Albums getting heavy play right now: Taking Back Sunday, louder now.
*I was also disproportionately pleased when Such Great Heights came on my shuffle this morning. Granted, I was driving through misty fields at around 5:30am on my way to work as the sun was rising and all, but yeah. I was thrilled. It's official: I need a life.
That was the prologue and the update. Other than that, I haven't got all that much to add. Today I applied for translating jobs at two different companies, and have continued to not apply for the job at SONY International. Probably because it's an HR Manager job that I am in no way qualified to do and would therefore never get. Certain people would say here that I'm being defeatist. I prefer to call this "realism". I've got tomorrow off from Bread Hell--on the docket so far: banking, used book sale at the library, more job applications, potentially a visit to the Grandparents and maybe some laundry. And/or the mailing of things. Or the compillation of impressive lists of Things to Do/Be Acquired. As if this is in any way relevant to much at all. Mmmm, not so much.
Albums getting heavy play right now: Taking Back Sunday, louder now.
*I was also disproportionately pleased when Such Great Heights came on my shuffle this morning. Granted, I was driving through misty fields at around 5:30am on my way to work as the sun was rising and all, but yeah. I was thrilled. It's official: I need a life.
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