Rain, rain, go away...

It was one of those evenings, astounding in their coincidence and simple bad luck. One of those stories where you think I'm making it up, because life doesn't really just keep going from bad to worse--but, as Murphy would probably assert (while sitting back and sipping a Tom Collins or something else smug and self-satisfied), if anything else bad can happen, it will.

We were supposed to meet for drinks in a Biergarten, in general an open-air self-service bar serving gigantic pitchers of beer and sausages and so typically German as to make tourists twitch and want to pull out the cameras--and in specific located halfway up a hill overlooking the city lights as dusk drew in around the cathedral and cobblestoned streets. Anyways, we were meeting for drinks, and had scouted out a perfect corner with an amazing view. There were just three of us; one would be coming later and one was looking for her glasses. It seemed she'd lost them somewhere, and had spent much of the afternoon retracing her steps and dismantling her bedroom in search of the wayward spectacles. So she called, she'd be late.

We ordered beer in bucket-sized glasses and discussed vacations and studies, and our glasses-less friend called to say she's giving up on the glasses and would be biking in soon. Except her bike had a flat. Meanwhile, day had given way to dusk and the opperessive heat of the evening had given way to gathering storms which were hiding about the far hills and sending out tentative bolt of flash lightning. Not good if you're sitting halfway up a hill outside. As the first drops of rain started to fall we moved to a table under a tree, but even that wasn't enough to withstand the oncoming storm. Meanwhile, our friend called back to say that, though she had pumped up the tire, it was flat again. The neighbors couldn't help her, and so she was going to get her rollerblades--in this weather!--but, on her way upstairs had managed to step on her Mp3 player. She'd still be coming, but first she needed to sit down, get herself together, and have a glass of gin.

And the skies opened up. We fled the Biergarten and hid on the covered bridge, watching the cars trail by under us and the half-naked crazy guy run around in the rain and climb the slippery steps on all fours (don't ask me, the bloke was bonkers). Tentatively, one brave dash at a time, we made it to an overfilled bar and an astoundingly empty café, where we received a final call from our erstwhile friend who would, indeed, not be coming, as it was going on half twelve and pouring sideways, insofar that the laws of physics don't prohibit it.

I pushed off about midnight, after the rain let up, and roulé-ed my way home--- to find my living room under water. About an inch or two in some places, stretching from under the half-opened window past the dinig room table. Because I definately would rather have spent my evening using my only towel to mop the lake in my apartment instead of crawling into my little sleeping bag and passing out...

how long have I
been in this storm
so overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form
water's getting harder to tread
with these waves crashing over my head

if I could just see you
everything will be alright
if I'd see you
the storminess will turn to light

and I will walk on water
and you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be alright
and everything will be alright

I know you didn't
bring me out here to drown
so why am I 10 feet under and upside down
barely surviving has become my purpose
cause I'm so used to living underneath the surface

if I could just see you
everything will be alright
if I see you
the storminess will turn to light

and I will walk on water
and you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be alright

and I will walk on water
you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be alright
I know everything is alright
everything's alright

--"Storm", Lifehouse

Highway to hell

Step on the stage
The lights the praise
The curtain calls
And the big parade
You know that life all too well

The promise the pain
The valor the rage
Hold up your hands
For the bow and the wave
You know his touch
A little too well

You throw yourself
Into their arms
Mistresses have all the fun
But no one's ever there to take you home

Box up your gloves and your
Down coats
Bound for the sun and the
West coast
Where upper crust tragedies abound

A tip for the girl at the
Coat check
The guy at the door and the
Bar back
They know your face
Oh so well

But movies never made you famous
All your dreams got lost or traded
And all you ever cared about got lost

But you were surely still an actress
Older men would find attractive
And all you ever dreamed of was the cost

Where there's gold, there's a gold digger

You throw yourself
Into their arms
Mistresses have all the fun
But no one's ever there to take you home

--Dashboard Confessional, "Where there's gold"

There's really nothing better than waking up in the morning, having a nice coffee and breakfast, and trying to decide if I should go running, biking, hiking, or two of the above. Since I really have nothing better to do, and because I really like being outside in pretty much all forms, I spent a fair amount of time these days doing stuff outside. If the weather is good I can bike, if it's not good I can still run and hike without being bothered by being wet. Some days I don't feel like doing much of anything, so I don't, but most days I am outside until 1 or 2 PM.



I was telling a friend about my hiking trip the other day, and he asked, somewhat incredulous, if I had gone alone. Of course I went alone; if I waited around for someone else to do anything, I'd never leave my house. Whereever I live I tend to have one, maybe two friends tops who run or hike regularly, so most of the time I am on my own. I'm still picky about running; my enjoyment of it comes from the fresh air but also from having a sustained level of physical activitiy which can be disturbed if I am running with someone much better or much worse than I am--the former pushes me and the latter makes it more of a social activity than a workout. Hiking I enjoy doing with other people, because the pace and the scenery lend themselves well to conversation, but I am also just fine alone with the birds, the bees, the bugs, and sometimes my ipod.

Recently I bought my first road bike. I had the idea that I was going to buy a used bike in decent condition, figure out what biking is all about and eventually, once I'd earned it, work my way up to a decent bike. I don't race and don't wanna, so there is no need for a super spiffy bike. But I couldn't find a used one in my size / quality / price range, and once I tried a little blue beauty at a bike shop I couldn't even bear to go down a level and buy a completely entry-level bike. Anyways, after much effort, several square yards of cardboard and an inordinate amount of duct tape, expertly applied by two strapping young lads who expertly dismembered my bike, I managed to get the thing to Germany. Carrying the bastard around was certainly a pain; the box has approximately the lateral dimensions of a 1980s mainframe computer, weighs not that much but is, on the scale of awkwardness, comparable to performing at a high school talent show in baton twirling wearing your underpants on your head--and nothing else. Not that I would know, mind you.

Anyways, after finally having gotten all the bits and pieces more or less adjusted, I went for a ride this morning, with the close-your-eyes-and-point-to-somewhere-on-the-map style of navigating. I picked a direction, followed signs for a bike path, and turned back after an hour. I managed to work my way some distance up a two-lane, no-shoulder road in the desperate hope that at some point there would be a bike path, but there wasn't. A cop car passed me in the other direction and I half thought they would stop and yell at me--that seems to be a theme this week, urgh--but then again, bikes have the rights and responsibilities of cars, so there wasn't anything illegal about riding on the street, just impractical. Anyways, I reached my time and turned back, managing to execute my turn this time significantly better than the last time (the last time I tried to reverse course across a two-lane road I almost tragically misjudged traffic and was only subjected to honking horns and frantic calls from other bikers).

So, turned around. As I am rocketing down this hill, still on a two-lane, no-shoulder. I hear cars coming up to pass me, and they do. I hear a car coming to pass, and as it is alongside me it slows---it's the cops. All I heard was "bleargh-babbel-gibberish-have a good ride home!" Because yelling at someone who is rocketing at 40 kmh down a hill is a great plan. Ok-ee.... So I continue, and at some point I realize there is another biker shadowing me on the bike path to my left, keeping pace with me. I see a sign for Freiburg and I aim to left turn onto it. The other biker passes behind me, yelling, "do you know where that goes??" I don't turn and instead follow him, where he explains to me that I just about exited myself onto the Autobahn. Whoops. That would have been fun.



Anyways, I shadowded him home, staying OFF the thoroughfare, occasionally drafting off of him and attempting not to do anything stupid like get hit by a car. The ride home was more pleasant and faster than it would have been had I been alone, and I managed not to make an utter fool of myself, though my bike and I are still getting to know each other. I have a lot to learn, grasshopper, and I was thankful he sort of took me under his wing. More lessons learned....

Oh là là

I could really get used to this not working thing. Not that I don't still get up early, but I don't have to go anywhere or be anywhere or do anything if I don't want to. Kurz gefasst: I can be as egotistical as I want. And because I am now the proud inhabitant of a little 1-room apartment, I can do as I please. I am trying not to let my little home look like a tornado hit it, but, well, I'm missing the extreme orderliness that inspires me to sweep or vacuum incessantly. Now that I have unpacked my suitcases, though, I have a better than average chance of actually finding stuff I was pretty sure I brought with but haven't been able to find in ages. And by ages, I mean, since I left.

This all comes under the heading of "this is the life". I am now capable of making coffee in the mornings, keeping my daily caffine dose in check is becoming more difficult but nevertheless enjoyable. My life is a multiple choice: a) go running, b) hiking, c) biking, or d) several of the above. Interspersed with coffee and ice cream appointments, dinners, drinks, and random other events. Last week was a north african evening which turned into a north african disco party in the university bar, which is a cafeteria by day and a bar by night. We heard stories of one guy's motorcycle journey across Morocco, another's backpacking adventure, and watched a belly-dancing troupe before throwing off our jackets and trying it ourselves, with little success, no embarrassment and lots of enthusiasm.

I heard the president of the European Parliament, Herr Pöttering, speak. And about three rows up and one to the right was a gentleman who insisted on contradicting everything the speaker said. "We should look beyond Europe," he said ("No, we shouldn't!"), "we need to follow through on the principles for which we stand" ("No, not our business"). His comments weren't even entirely intelligible, just a Harz-IV-naysayer who proclaimed his unalieable right to interrupt, as if it were on par with life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Yesterday was one of those days where the time goes all too quickly, and you look down and it's 2 AM. And you have to bike home with groceries. Without a light. Again. I met my Canadian friend for coffee and quatsch, which turned into more coffee, a trip to the grocery store, another trip to a different grocery store, Baklava, Haloumi-Yufka und Schwarzentee, anderthalb Stunden auf Deutsch plaudern, a trip to the Biergarten, litres of beer en francais, a glass of wine, several work colleagues and glasses of punch. My buddy sees me out and I head for my bike, when he realizes he has locked himself out. So he buzzes incessantly until the one present roommate opens up for him, because sleeping on the stoop would suck.

She Moves In Her Own Way

Locate the spaces in every branch
For the sake of the sun
Later flashlights make sparks in the dark
And we'll trace them

The green glow of lightning bugs in the night
Start the sky bending sidelong
The hardest part is trying to hold on

I do believe that our hearts are received
*Beyond* the rust colored reeds, is glimpses of blueness
Lately I can't recognize what's right from what is wrong.

The summer is spinning out of control til we're only ourselves
Each season strips us down to the bone and we bare it
I watch your shoulders feeding the deer in the afternoon sun
The hardest part is shoulders that move on.
Lately I don't know what I could want from anyone

I do believe that our hearts are received
Through all the rust colored reeds,
There's flashes of blueness.

Lately I can't recognize what's right from what is wrong.

And I do believe that our hearts are received
Through all the rust colored reeds, there's flashes of blueness.
While you look at me and I don't know what you see
Maybe through rust colored reeds,
There could be blueness

--"Locate the Pieces" by Matt pond pa

I've lived in Germny over two years, and this is my third trip. I assume I know the culture, and I do speak the language. Still, there are some things I've forgotten about, that strike me as different--though I doubt it will take long before I am used to them.

- jaywalking is bad. Germans just don't do it; they stand and wait for the cross signal to turn green. Regardless of the time of night: 4 Am, you will still see them standing, waiting--probably because jaywalking is punsihable and punished.

- tight pants are in. This may have changed since my last visit, but tight pants and ballet flats or converse shoes are definately in style, with layers of looser tank tops over them. Apparently. Me and fashion go together like a kid and a squished bug: the kid squeals "eeeew!" but looks facinatedly anyways.

- house music and electronica are in. If you can dance to it, they play it. Which leads me to:

- people dance here, at clubs, bars, and parties, not just stand awkwardly around or play pool. There is actual dancing, and not just the girls. The drunker, the wilder.

- water, if you ask for it in a bar, has bubbles in it and costs almost as much as a beer. "Leitungswasser" is not something many people drink, though it tastes fine. And it is not served with ice.

- most (many) things aren't refrigerated.

- beer is three euros for a six-pack, and wine is two to three euros per bottle. None of this paying-twelve-dollars-for-crappy-wine thing.

- sonic the hedgehog haircuts are in for guys. As are the tight jeans. Go figure.

- wearing jogging clothes to the supermarket is frowned upon severely, but sunbathing topless is no problem.

- there is such a thing as 'Pfand', or bounty on glasses at restaurants and bottles at the supermarket. You pay extra money for every glass or bottle but get it back when you return the item. Great to encourage recycling.

Ach du lieber....

I apologize for the hiatus. My life in the last few weeks is what one could call hectic, to be overly generous and with little exaggeration. Finals suck for everyone involved, and as it was my last opportunity to work for awhile, I signed up fo 8-hr shifts during the time when everyone and their hamster returns their books--and 85% of the staff decide they don't want to work. So I worked, took my finals, wrote two papers, read two novels, graduated, went to and threw a few parties, moved out, moved in with a friend, moved out again, packed up my life, and left.

My flight left at 11.30 AM, which is a terrible time to fly, because you are 100% awake because it's the middle of the freaking day. I flew three hours to Detroit and then 8.5 to Frankfurt. Airports are what I imagine purgatory--or, at less charitable times, hell--to be like.... endless waiting, endless hallways stretching into infinity, frustrating rules and indifferent personnell. But you get through eventually and onto your flight.

I got stuck in the middle seat of the middle row of one those massive jets which was full to the brim with everyone, their mother, and their screaming baby. And of course, there was no such thing as a vegetarian option--because I booked through a 3rd party site, no one ever asked me--so I had a tray of sides, consisting of a small salad, a roll, and a piece of cheese for dinner. Breakfast wasn't much better.

Anyways, I made it to Frankfurt, made it through immigration and collected my bags. The trick was finding out what happened to my bike, which was considered ,,Sperrgepäck" because it's in a huge box. I finally managed to find it and balance it precariously on my little cart, only to have the guys at customs start laughing because I couldn't fit through the door. But no issues at customs, and I got to enjoy the astounded look on my sister's face as I emerge from the door pushing a cart I can't even see around. Two busses, a train, and four floors later we made it to her apartment.

I spent the day wandering around town, eating gelato, sleeping, chatting, sleeping, chatting, and making dinner. It felt like I had a terrible case of amnesia: evey time I woke up I would be completely confused as to where I am, what day it was, what time it was, what I was doing there....I wanted to be well rested; in the evening, we went to a party for film students at a local bar, and didn't make it home till 2 AM. And slept till 11 the next morning :)

Graduating and such....

After years of expensive education
A car full of books and anticipation
I'm an expert on Shakespeare and that's a hell of a lot
But the world don't need scholars as much as I thought
Maybe I'll go traveling for a year
Finding myself, or start a career
Could work the poor, though I'm hungry for fame
We all seem so different but we're just the same
Maybe I'll go to the gym, so I don't get fat
Aren't things more easy, with a tight six pack
Who knows the answers, who do you trust
I can't even separate love from lust
Maybe I'll move back home and pay off my loans
Working nine to five, answering phones
But don't make me live for Friday nights
Drinking eight pints and getting in fights
Maybe I'll just fall in love
That could solve it all
Philosophers say that that's enough
There surely must be more
Love ain't the answer, nor is work
The truth eludes me so much it hurts
But I'm still having fun and I guess that's the key
I'm a twentysomething and I'll keep being meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Wo ist der April eigentlich hängengeblieben?

Schon viertel nach Zehn. Ich hocke gerade in der Ecke eines Zimmers, das mir nicht gehört, höre Musik aus schlechten Lautsprechern und hoffe darauf, dass mich keiner entdeckt. Jawohl, ich bin ausgezogen, und leben jetzt zu acht in einem großen Haus auf einer Luftmatratze im Keller. Gerade das Letzte, was ich jetzt hätte gebrauchen können, wär ein großer Umzug und darauf noch obdachlos zu sein. Es ist aber viel praktischer, tatsächlich in der Stadt zu wohnen statt 20 Min. außerhalb, und ich werde die nächsten paar Monate ohnehin aus dem Koffer leben. Es ist doch auch ganz lustig mit ugf. 20 anderen Personen zu leben und mit den Worten ,,na, da ist die andere, die da wohnt" begrüßt zu werden. Mein Bruder hat die zwei Wochen davor hier gelebt, wieso nun ich nicht?

Es geht alles wirklich verdammt schnell, und meine Leidensliste streckt von hier bis zur Hauptstraße, was ohnehin nur 20 m weg ist, aber trotzdem. Mein Thesis ist nun geschafft, verteidigt, und bewertet worden. Dieses Stück ist nun 60% länger, als ein Masters-Thesis sein darf, was zweierlei bedeutet: erstens bin ich eine unverbesserliche Vorgerückte und Streber, welches (zweitens) nur bedeutet, dass ich wahrscheinlich einen zusätzlichen Monat der Akademie geopfert habe. Ich wollte ja eh nicht leben :P. Naja, das ist also vorbei. Ich dachte, ich würde danach einige Zeit haben, um das Leben so zu genießen--- habe ich auch gemacht, aber halt im normalen Umfang. Noch Laufen, Radfahren, Tango, sich mit Freunden treffen, wahnsinnig viel arbeiten---und den Sachen nachrennen, die ich wegen dem Thesis ständig verschoben hatte.

Was auch immer. Aber in zwei Wochen steige ich ins Flugzeug, und danach müssen alle Papiere fertig und sämtliche Klausuren geschrieben sein, ich kriege den Abschluss und einige zusätzliche Papiere dazu, pack mein Rad und meine sieben Sachen. Ab in den Süden, oder sowas ähnliches. Ich werde euch vermissen!