Give my regards to Watson....

In the face of persistent dissatisfaction and succeeding several hours of German history, I've decided to try and figure out What's Going On. It's hard to say, women being at the proverbial mercy--ah, mercy, ye who in this regard are not so merciful--of their conflicting and confusing (yes, men, we are confused by our emotions as well, though it stops well short of the male bafflement) emotions as we are. I'm attempting a Nietzschean regression, referring, of course, rather to Nietzsche's genealogical approach than his nihilistic philosophy.

My situation here is by all accounts passable, and comfortable, in that the comforts of a civilized, materialistic society are available to me without having to have carried them in my backpack. A desk to suit an executive though I am but a student; a bed big enough for two though I sleep alone; a car though there is nowhere to go. I do not want, nor do I starve, though the higher cost of living requires I tighten my belt and my budget. I am busy; or rather, I am behind, which has the gilt of inevitability and of inescabability to preclude any attempts at idleness. My to-do list follows me around like a hotdog on a string: not smoothly, occasioning comment, and reeking faintly. Still, the items will diminish slowly but surely, and the particular reductive effect of deadlines is not to be discounted.

It has also been a long time since I have had had more than an evening or two a week to myself, in which I was my own sole source of entertainment. I miss my boyfriend primarily for emotional and intellectual reasons, but also for the enrichment he provided to my social schedule, as someone with whom I spent a disproportionate amount of time, alone or with our combined or separate circles of friends. We are reduced to frequent but sometimes hurried conversations, our respective schedules conspiring against us and compounded by the time difference. This frustrates me; the connection makes me more aware of the distance than ever.

Various people, whom I would consider somewhere between friends and acquaintances, depending on the individual, have welcomed me back with relative warmth. In comparison with my social life in Germany, my social life here is like marmalade: high viscosity and therefore of slow speed, sweet but taken in small quantities, and moulds if left unused for too long. As mentioned, however, my assignments and my location of habitation now preclude extensive social activities--though I will admit that such activities are so few on offer that I can almost certainly accommodate them. Mostly I just feel out of place and lacking the desire to try and fit in. That will, I am sure, change with time to a certain extent. I will make (more) friends, or I will return to entertaining myself as I have in the past. I do not sit idle, and I can be happy without needing others.

My optimism is flagging somewhat, I must admit: or that which is flagging is my sense of challenge and discovery. Perhaps arrogant and almost certainly untrue, but I have the lackluster and dragging feeling of déjà vu, of having seen and done and experienced what there is to do here; not only that, particularly in light of the shining goal of graduation hovering before me, my classes appear less as an interesting intellectual challenge (or pass-time, depending on the level) and more as simply--work, items to be checked off a list. There is no wonder of discovering a new city, not to mention experiencing a new culture or language; I am already aware of the difficulties and drawbacks inherent in my system. It is the mystery that is lacking, not an inherent defect in my current situation; a fault I could accept, accommodate or ameliorate, but what is the solution to a missing mystery?