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!

Die Orange spricht....

Ich stehe in der Küche meiner Eltern und esse eine Orange. Ich steh vorm Spüler, links und rechts von mir der Küchentisch, unter mir der Teppich auf dem Parkettboden. Langsam schäle ich die Orange und lass die Schale stückenweise von der Hand fallen, ich nehme die einzelnen Teile und schäle sie mit den Zähnen. Am Fensterbrett, neben der Spülseife, sind Kakteen, die trotzig und stachelig vor sich hin wachsen, oder eben nicht. Sie haben bis jetzt überlebt. Links und rechts vom Spüler hangen Forme für Kekse, die meine Mutter liebt, aber nie isst, sie gönnt sich ja selten sowas. Mein Bruder, mein älterer Bruder, mein einziger älterer Bruder hat sich über die Sofa drapiert und fläzte da wie eine große Katze. Irgendeinen Film, den ich schon kenne, guckt er am letzten Abend, die Eltern haben sich schon zurückgezogen und nur die Geräusche eines leeren Hauses und eines die Stille überfallenden Films bleiben. Sie sehen uns morgen, und danach sind wir weg. Nie ganz sind wir da, nie ganz sind wir weg, aber trotzdem wird sich diese Konstellation für die voraussehbare Zukunft nie wieder einfinden. Einfinden, einfädeln, die Erinnerungen an eine Kette hängen, die man sich um den Hals bindet, um gebunden, angebunden zu fühlen, um mit irgendetwas oder irgendwem verbunden zu sein. Sein, ist, gewesen. War. Ich auch.

Hindsight and Forsight

It's strange to think that in about a month, I will have graduated from college. I'll be "done" (except for the part where I'm going to grad school, but whatever), will have gotten my degree in hoop-jumping, international affairs and German. I'm planning a(nother) big move, but with no expectation that this place will look anything like how I left it when/if I return. I'm pretty sure facebook will be my sole contact with a lot of people for the foreseeable future. But this is also the time when a lot of people move on, and even if I weren't moving it still wouldn't be the same. And I'm looking forward to life beyond college as I know it, though I will probably look back later and wonder why I hurried.

Things I regret:
- not having started more things sooner. The best part of my college experience for me has been my friends and activities, and many/most of my friends are from my activities. Why did I wait till now to start tango? Why didn't I do all of these other cool things on offer?
- not having been in officer in clubs / not having been here for two consecutive years. I think I would've done a good job and had a great time.
- some of my specific class choices. Philosophy of Science and Math for Econ come to mind.
- not having learned to let a little loose a little sooner. My first year at CU, I was as goody-two-shoes as they come. I'm still goody-two-shoes, except when I go barefoot, but I can also not take myself quite so seriously. Lesson for life.

Things I don't regret:
- not having lived in the dorms. That would have just made me angry, I'm pretty sure of this.
- my honor's thesis. The thing is a beast and took over my life for four months, but in the end I produced something huge that almost no one will read. But I learned a ton, and am proud of having finished it.

My favorite things:
- MUN. It's been my anchor, what most of my friends do, and has allowed me the incredible experiences of going to conferences.
- my year abroad. It was an amazing year, and a) thanks to the university people and my respective departments, it allowed me to get ahead in my studies, and b) thanks to my friends and family I had something to come back to, which I hadn't been expecting
- my job. I met and meet a ton of interesting people and get to know a lot of interesting people. Plus, it's books, what more can I say? And it's not food, even better. My coworkers and boss are great, so absolutely no complaints.

And I'm off to go pick up my new bike.

La philisophie m'ennuye

It's officially April, which means there is officially almost no time left in this semester, and thus little time remaining until I gradjimate and arrividerci.

Because Colorado has so f-ing weird weather, it snowed again yesterday. I guess it really only qualifies as weird if it snows in June (which has happened before, I assure you), but days of 60-60-60-60-55-60-55-60-28-60 degrees seems strange to me, and I grew up here.

But, as Oscar Wilde (I think) said, "Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative,” we'll move on to more interesting topics.



1) Consider the statement "The moon must be made of cheese." This is composed of the predicates "the moon" and "made of cheese", with the relationship "must" connecting them. If and only if the extension (or intension?) of 'moon-ness' corresponds with the extension (or intension?) of 'cheese-ness'--insofar that 'moon-ness' doesn't a priori automatically imply 'cheese-ness'--can we imply a necessary relationship between 'moon' and 'made of cheese'. As we are lacking congruency between the universals of 'moon-ness' and 'cheese-ness,' the statement is valid but false. And not all ravens are black, so there.

2) Hume says inductive reasoning sucks. Popper says inductive reasoning isn't necessary for science, while Salmon says that Popper uses inductive reasoning on the sly, the slick bastard. Goodman says 'grue' is just fine and way cooler than green or blue, and Quine says, you sod, your predicates have to actually apply to something real. But he started it, and I'm telling mom.

3) Defending a thesis is fun. Apparently someone else managed to jam the professor's door shut with their honor's 'tome' this morning, but that wasn't me, though mine was also a tome. My thesis was about 'post-conflict economic reintegration of former combatants in Angola and Mozambique', that giving jobs to demobilizing soldiers is really important. So I talked about that, how applicable my research would be to cases of the US and Iraq, the limits of reintegration policy--it's no panacea--and whether or not it supersedes or diminishes national government authority. Yeah, stuff like that...

4) There are turks in Germany. There are German Turks. They write books. Something about this conjunction is supposed to turn into a paper in the next three weeks, oh yay.

5) Bikes. Are. Expensive. My choices:

http://www.fujibikes.com/2006/bikes.asp?id=134#

http://www.trekbikes.com/us/en/bikes/2007/archive/1600wsd

http://fullcyclebikes.com/itemdetails.cfm?catalogId=39&id=708

Yay for money. Over and out.

Don't drive on the sidewalk.

Words of advice: Don't drive on the sidewalk.



At least, that's what the policeman told me yesterday. I'd not wanted to turn completely around, drive out from the near-middle of campus, circle campus, to drive back to the near-middle of campus in sight of where I was. The only thing stopping me from simply driving through was a "service or emergency vehicles only" sign. And of course, as I exit the forbidden pathway, what approaches from the street ahead but a polic car, who waves to me to roll down my window. I explain I'm lost and looking for the main street, where I was actually looking for the parking lot adjacent to our location. So I had to drive out to the main street and drive back in to park next to where I had been talking to him.

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Since my shoes don't fit right, my current goal is to spend the last half hour of my shift seated in my chair. It's a rolley chair, so if I am committed to my laziness, a certain measure of creativity should prevent undue energy expenditure. I might even make it; for some reason, the droves of bleary-eyed grad students has slowed to a trickle, with only the occasional student doing penance from judicial affairs by checking out "When Good People Make Tough Choices". I try not to smile, but we all know why he or she is there: written up, minor in possession, or similar. Yay for moral highhorse. I'm old enough to drink here without getting in trouble, so nyah nyah nyah.

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

We were interviewed by German journalists today, on an intercultural exchange trip to the US. We talked about current issues in Germany, and US-German relations (the We Hate Bush Club) and why (some) Germans are pulling for Obama. Main comments: US is *huge*. We knew this already, but if you haven't been here before, the sheer immensity of the place can be staggering, particularly for Europeans used to, as one of today's guests put it, "a different country being two hours away". Religion is much more public here, where in Germany it is a pretty private thing. Integration of foreigners is a problem shared by both (and many other) countries, and it is difficult to determine what is "American" and "German" culture. Flag-flying on every building seems strange to them; in Germany, where nationalism is understandably severely discouraged, the practice cam be unsettling.

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

There is a really creepy individual who works where I do, ostensibly in maintenance. I guess I am making judgements without knowing him, but whenever he walks by my desk he stares fixedly at me/us. I'm not going to lie, it makes me uncomfortable.

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

One of my favorite things to do at work is to take a stack of DVDs, open each one to check if there is a disk inside, stack them all up, and close them by pressing them together as a stack. It makes such a satisfying snapping and popping noise, much like the popping of plastic knuckles. Which I can't stand, by the way (popping your knuckles, not plastic). I also can't stand people chewing ice, or scraping ice with their fingers.

Kurze Anmerkung: wegen frührer übereifriger Andeutungsversuche möchte ich nur vorweg sagen, dass das Leid keinerlei persönliche Bedeutung hat, war nur das Erste auf der CD und ich fand's schön.


Du warst mir mal wichtig
Genau wie dieses Lied
Wärst du eine Melodie
Wär ich ein stumpfer Beat
Wir machten kleine Skizzen
Alle ziemlich einfach
Alles, was uns wichtig war
Lag sicher im Geheimfach

Trotzdem gehen wir beide getrennt
Und Bruce spielt wieder ohne E Street Band

Weil die Zeit sich so beeilt
Und so wenig bleibt von dem, was einmal war
Weil das Licht so leicht zerbricht
Sehen wir die Dinge manchmal seltsam sonderbar

Unsere Bilder sind verschwommen
Weil wir nicht mehr zurá¼ckkommen

Was bleibt ist nur der Rauch
In den man so gern taucht
Bevor es wieder klar wird
Verschwind ich lieber auch
Denn so viele reden wichtig
Erzählen tolle Geschichten
Und uns wird langsam müde
Von versteinerten Gedichten

Und wir werden nicht verbrennen
In den Fehlern die wir kennen

Nein so wollten wir nie werden
Und so werden wir nie sein
Der Trost ist, dass sich zwei kennen
Die aus all dem lernen
Der eine bist wohl du
Der andere wär ich gern

Nur weil die Zeit sich so beeilt
Und nur wenig bleibt von dem, was einmal war
Weil das Licht so leicht zerbricht
Sehen wir die Dinge manchmal seltsam sonderbar

"Weil Die Zeit Sich So Beeilt" -- Olli Schulz und der Hund Marie

Deutsche Männer, meine neue Liebe mit scharfer Soße

Ich bin jetzt die stolze Besitzerin eines neuen Macbook-Laptops. Ich bin noch dabei, das schöne, weiße Ding zu vegöttern, also wenn ihr mich braucht, bin ich hinten im Arbeitszimmer und bete es an. Hinterlassen Sie eine Nachricht.

Das heißt, dass ich meinen Eltern entgegengehe und mir etwas von der Firma Apple kaufe, wogegen sich insbesonders mein Vater Widerstand leistete. Mal sehen was ich da mache, wenn ich endlich mal ein Rennrad kaufen sollte, meine Liebe wäre nun aufgeteilt. Ich würde nicht wissen, ob ich die Zeit lieber auf dem Rad oder im Internet verbringen sollte.

Wenn jemand weiß wie ich einen Aufsatz über die Philosophie des Wissenschafts schreiben kann, sag bitte Bescheid. Das steht nämlich vor auf dem morgigen Stundenplan, außer laufen und Steuern zahlen, weil ich ja so spät dran bin. Mit allen drei.

Meine beste Freundin von der Schulzeit hat geheiratet. Ich bin zutiefst erschüttert, aus drei Gründen: zum Ersten, weil ich sie als 14-jähriger kannte und zum Zweiten, weil immer sie diejenige war, die nicht von Jungs wissen wollte, die jetzt plötzlich von Kindern redet, und zum Dritten, weil sie kaum älter als ich ist. Mein ehemaliger Freund meinte, die Amerikaner heiraten früher als die Deutschen. Meine Mutter meinte, Durchschnittsalter bei der Heirat sei hier 25 für Frauen, aber ihr kann ich gerade nicht glauben, wo die Anzahl verheirateter FreundInnen unaufhaltsam steigt. Diese Freundin hat ihren jetzigen Mann beim Wandern auf einem Berg kennengelernt, und ich war dabei. Er zog sofort bei ihr ein, sie sind beide zu ihren Eltern gezogen und später zu seinen. Wegen sofortiger Störung ihrer Versicherung verlegten sie die Hochzeit von Juni auf Februar (sprich: auf sofort). Jetzt wollen sie ein Haus kaufen. Ich kann sie mir gut vorstellen, wie sie mit ihren Bengel im ländlichen Ohio sich zufrieden gibt. Meinerseits bräuchte ich jemanden, der mit mir durch die Welt zieht, denn ich werde wohl kaum stehenbleiben--obwohl ich diesmal vor habe, zwei ganze Jahre am Stück in einer Stadt zu verbringen. Vielleicht hält diesmal auch eine Beziehung.

Meine Kinder, wenn ich sie mal haben sollte, werden zweisprachig aufwachsen. Höchstwahrscheinlich werde ich nicht mit einem Ami zusammen sein--bisher hat mich keiner wirklich angereitzt und nur ein paar Fehlschläge gegeben--also belibt mir irgendein (von mir aus gesehen) Ausländer, der seine Kinder wohl Deutsch, Französisch, Schwedisch, Spanisch, was auch immer beibringen sollte. Mischlingskinder finde ich immer sehr schön und beneidenswert. Vorallem die mit europäischem UND amerikanischem Pass. Ihr Schweine.

Nach fünf Jahren ununterbrochener Aufenthalt in Deutschland darf ich mich für eine Niederlassungserlaubnis bewerben. Wenn ich nicht schon verheiratet bin, das wär nämlich ganz praktisch. Er soll bitteschön auch ordentlich verdienen, damit ich endlich mal keine arme Studentin mehr bin. Und ich muss nicht mehr Anschaffen, oder kann mich zumindest auf Gouveneure spezialisieren. Nur ein Witz, das alles--verführen ist mir langweilig, ich will lieber verführt werden.

Im Seminar für zeitgenössische Literatur diskutierten wir--zumindest das letzte Mal, das ich da war, hab nämlich letztens ordentlich gefehlt--über deutsche Männer. Unser jetziges Buch, ,,Einmal Hans mit scharfer Soße" von Hatice Akyün, wurde von einer Deutsch-Türkin geschrieben, die sich einen Deutschen wünscht, der trotzdem was von Liebe und Leidenschaft versteht.

Mit 35 ist sie immer noch nicht verheiratet.

SCORING A GERMAN
Flirting with Fräuleins, Hunting for Herren

Interested in bagging a German? It's not quite as easy as you might hope. Flirting here is different and much more subtle. And it's taken very seriously. READ MORE....

Ihrer Meinung nach sind deutsche Männer viel zu ernst, verstehen nicht, mit einer Frau umzugehen, sie zu verführen oder zu verwöhnen, und gehen die Liebe viel zu ernst und viel zu unleidenschaftlich an. Die gleiche Beschwerde habe ich schon von Spanierinnen, Mexicanerinnen und Italienerinnen gehört und wurde sogar in einem Lied beschrieben, die Geschichte von einer Französin, die die deutschen Männer nicht kapiert:

Aurélies Akzent ist ohne Frage sehr charmant
Auch wenn sie schweigt wird sie als wunderbar erkannt
Sie brauch mit Reizen nicht zu geizen
Denn ihr Haar ist Meer und Weizen
Noch mit Glatze fräß ihr jeder aus der Hand

Doch Aurélie kapiert das nie
Jeden Abend fragt sie sich
Wann nur verliebt sich wer in mich

Aurélie so klappt das nie
Du erwartest viel zu viel
Die Deutschen flirten sehr subtil

Aurélie so klappt das nie
Du erwartest viel zu viel
Die Deutschen flirten sehr subtil

Aurélie die Männer mögen dich hier sehr
Schau auf der Straße schaut dir jeder hinterher
Doch du merkst nichts weil sie nicht pfeiffen
Und pfeiffst du selbst die Flucht ergreifen
Du musst wissen hier ist weniger oft mehr

Ach Aurelie in Deutschland braucht die Liebe Zeit
Hier ist man nach Tagen erst zum ersten Schritt bereit
Die nächsten Wochen wird gesprochen
Sich auf's Gründlichste berochen
Und erst dann trifft man sich irgendwo zu zweit

Aurélie so klappt das nie
Du erwartest viel zu viel
Die Deutschen flirten sehr subtil

Aurelie so einfach ist das eben nicht
Hier haben andre Worte ein ganz anderes Gewicht
All die Jungs zu deinen Füßen wolln sie küssen auch die Süssen
Aber du merkst das nicht
Weil er dabei von Fussball spricht

Ach Aurelie du sagst ich solle dir erklärn
Wie in aller Welt sich die Deutschen dann vermehren
Wenn die Blumen und die Bienen in Berlin nichts tun als grienen
Und sich nen Teufel um die Bestäubungsfrage schern

Aurélie so klappt das nie
Du erwartest viel zu viel
Die Deutschen flirten sehr subtil
--Wir Sind Helden, Aurélie

Die Amerikaner sind den Deutschen ähnlich, hier wird nicht offen angeglotzt oder angemacht (meistens), nichts mit Pfeifen, und Komplimente sind selten. Die Südländerinnen denken, man findet sie weniger schön, weil man es nicht so ausdrücklich zeigt; Den Nordländerinnen dagegen ist es unangenehm, ständig angebaggert zu werden und nie in Ruhe gelassen zu werden. Ich verstehe die beiden Perspektiven.

GERMAN MEN: Hunky, Handsome, Wimpy and Weak

At first glance, the blond six-foot hunks populating Germany make the place seem like a heaven for women. Until you start dating. German men are much more difficult than you might think. KEEP READING....

Wir wünschen uns alle, glaube ich, einen Hans mit scharfer Soße, einen, der Komplimente macht, ab und zu eine Blume mitbringt, uns einen gefallen zu tun oder eine Freude zu machen versucht. Sowas wünsche ich mir, klar, aber mich widerstrebt das auch. Es hat mit Hingabe zu tun--ich lass mir selten von Leuten etwas machen, ich will alles alleine schaffen und nie zugeben, dass ich etwas will oder nicht will oder mir wünsche. Ich will nicht schwach vorkommen, will auch, dass man sich um mich kümmert, alles für mich macht, und ich kümmere mich gerne um den anderen auch. Inzwischen habe ich gelernt, was mir nicht gefällt und ich kann es ruhig sein lassen, wenn es mir nicht passt. Ich möchte nie eine sein, die nicht ohne einen Mann leben kann und deswegen sich einfach irgendeinen nimmt. Ich bin wählerisch und trotzdem doch enttäuscht worden, bin ja nicht daran gestorben.

Boah, etwas heftiger geworden, als ich wollte, trotzdem lass ich das. Übrigens ist es auch sehr lustig, das ganze durch die Webseite ins Englische übersetzen zu lassen. Kaum verständlich.

Not to knock on the Germans, but.... some grains of truth?

The Stasi is back

The Stasi in Supermarkets

For those of you who don't read German, it's an article detailing how a supermarket chain systematically spied on its employees by use of a hidden camera, creating multi-page reports on how often and when employees used the restroom, with whom they may be having a romantic relationship, or even if they are appearing "introverted or naive". Lidl, the company in question, has had a number of complaints over the years of violating the rights of its employees, some of which have been officially charged. And I thought Slaveway was bad.

UPDATE: Apparently the company is sorry. That makes everything better.

ähm, weiß ich doch das nicht

After an exceptionally busy, incredibly fun and utterly exhausting week I am back in sunny Colorado, which thankfully is sunny (or at least as far as I can tell out of the window of my work). After an initial 9-hour workday with the quality of life approximate to that of a used tissue (obviously worn, crumpled, slightly crusty-feeling, not good for much) due to extreme and extended lack of sleep I am back to normal.

On average, about four people per day come into the library. I am pretty sure 85% of the people there are staff, or the odd poor unfortunate serving his community service in shelving--or the disgruntled grad student at 8 AM on a Monday. So I can spend my day being not particularly productive and trying to answer the 100-odd emails that have piled up in a week of limited internet access.

Et si tu dansais toute nue mon amour
Et si tu dansais toute la nuit jusqu'au jour
Tes petites fesses blanches, tes petites fesses blanches

Et si tu ôtais ce petit bout de tissu
Juste me régaler de ton joli petit cul
Je n'ai pas les ailes blanches, je n'ai pas les ailes blanches

Je sais ce que je ferais si l'on m'annonçait la fin du monde pour dans 10 minutes
Je sais ce que je ferais si l'on m'annonçait la fin du monde pour dans 10 minutes

Peut être sais-tu déjà pourquoi je te rôde autour
Quelque chose plus que tout me fait envie mon amour
Tes petites fesses blanches, tes petites fesses blanches

Ta langue est une danseuse qui se déhanche sur tes lèvres
Je voudrais d'abord la voir tourner dans ma bouche et je crève
De tes petites pêches blanches, tes petites pêches blanches

Je sais ce que je ferais si l'on m'annonçait la fin du monde pour dans 10 minutes
Je sais ce que je ferais si l'on m'annonçait la fin du monde pour dans 10 minutes

La lune juste pour moi découpe ton corps dans la nuit
Alors déchirant la pénombre ton petit cul blanc me sourit
Qui viendra dire après ça que le bon Dieu n'existe pas

Je sais ce que je ferais si l'on m'annonçait la fin du monde pour dans 10 minutes
Je sais ce que je ferais si l'on m'annonçait la fin du monde pour dans 10 minutes

Je sais ce que je ferais si l'on m'annonçait la fin du monde pour dans 10 minutes
Je sais ce que je ferais si putain c'est pas long 10 minutes

Je n'ai pas les ailes blanches, je n'ai pas les ailes blanches.

--La fin du monde pour dans 10 minutes de Cali

New York was absolutely amazing. We sightsaw, we went to a show, ate in a phenomenal persian restaurant and in Little Italy, bought genuine imported italian handbags from Asian immigrants in back rooms accessed by an unmarked staircase or a hidden, secret door. The roach coach guy is my friend, and yells back and forth with his friend in Arabic about his crazy wife (or so he told me), and I can more or less take the subway anywhere, though I accidentally ended up in Brooklyn once. Delis are amazing, the bagels are phenomenal and there was a party going on till 3 am every night. In short, a good week---and that's just everything extraneous to the conference, our actual purpose of being there.

The conference itself was wonderful. I am pretty sure I had the best committee; I requested this one (the African Union) because it's small, and because the themes seem to be more relevant to most states as opposed to the lot of a small state in one of the GA committees (so what does Tuvalu *really* think about nuclear nonproliferation? role of small arms trade in patagonia? anyone?). Our school represented two delegations, one of which won a position paper award and a distinguished delegation award, and the other won an honorable mention. It seemed like about 40% of attendees were foreign, and about 90% of those were German. For once in my life it was useful to have learned German, though I was unable to overhear anything of a particular blackmail or gossip value. At least I didn't feel shut out from everyone's conversations, and got to explain about thirty-five times how I can speak German as well as I do.



In other news, the giant hit to my bank account known as my new laptop arrived in the gentle care of my parents, who regard it with undue skepticism and and are probably most likely quarantining it in the mudroom because it is a mac. I haven't managed to yet find the bike that will be the second hit to my bank account, and I've only got about a month left to find it in. And our family dog, after 14 years of loyal dog-ness, passed away, after having slowly but surely acquired arthritis, some kind of neurological disorder which gave her seizures and made her bite random people (not rabies, thank god), and eventual deafness. May she rest in peace, and may whereever she is have lots of snow, 'cause she loved it.



In other other news, the massive waste of paper which is my thesis is nearing completion. It's such a beast I keep it locked in the cabinet overnight to keep it from attacking my considerably more feeble term papers or mauling my french homework.

Mostly, I am enjoying evenings of doing nothing by myself. No, I haven't been abducted by aliens, as those of you who know me well personally will think, I am just recovering from a week of NYC, a 2000-person conference and four roommates. I bike to work and back, I work on things, listen to music and putter around aimlessly, and worry about term papers. There might be laundry involved. Ah, welcome to college. At least I graduate soon. In theory. Goal for tomorrow: write a paper on Race.

After five years of consecutive residence in Germany I am elligible for permanent residency, except my two previous years don't count and my next two will only count for 50% because I'm a student. Blast. If I'm lucky I'll want to get married before then, and that will solve many of these problems, except I don't want to marry for papers and I expect to have a job which should solve these problems as well. Silly foreigners' laws.

Ein Volk steht wieder auf - na toll
Bei Aldi brennt noch Licht
Du weißt, Deiche brechen richtig oder eben nicht
Du hoffst, erste Person plural,
weißt, aber nicht mit mir
Es ist schwer zu erlangen und leicht zu verlieren

A people rises again - so what
The light's still on at Aldi
You know, dams break all the way or maybe not
You hope, first person plural,
know, but not with me
it's hard to get and easy to lose

Nur weil man sich so dran gewöhnt hat
ist es nicht normal
Nur weil man es nicht besser kennt
ist es nicht - noch lange nicht - egal

Only 'cause we're so used to it
it's not so normal
only 'cause we don't know any better
it's not - not by a long shot - irrelevant

Ich habe nicht davon gehört
denn das ist was passiert
Mir hat niemand was erzählt
Ich habe nicht davon gelesen
Das ist unsere Zeit, ich bin dabei gewesen


I haven't heard about it
as that's what happened
no one told me anything
I read nothing about
This is our time, and I was there

Niemand wird es schlechter... - oh danke
Keiner findet statt
Du weißt, der Kuchen ist verteilt
und spürst, die Krümel werden knapp
Und alle um dich herum, wer kann was wofür?
Es ist schwer zu erlangen und leicht zu verlieren

Nobody's doing worse - oh, thanks
No one happens
you know, the cake has been divided
and feel the crumbs are getting scarce
All those people around you, what can they do?
It's hard to get and easy to lose

Nur weil man sich so dran gewöhnt hat
ist es nicht normal
Nur weil man es nicht besser kennt
ist es nicht - noch lange nicht - egal

Only 'cause we're so used to it
it's not so normal
only 'cause we don't know any better
it's not - not by a long shot - irrelevant

--Deiche von Kettcar

In no particular order: How A Group of 28 College Students from Colorado Survived New York and Lived to Tell the Tale

Not going to bed really distorts your perspective. Even if you feel fine the next day after not having slept, you just lose track a bit, and you think you've had a really productive day just because it was actually two, with no separation in between. Flying red-eye is about the same, except you are stuck in airport purgatory with its recycled air, its constant, desturbing announcements and only a hard surface to rest on, followed by a couple of hours of cramped half-sleep on the plane before you are rudely shoved into your destination. So we began our trip.

:::::::: -- ::: -- ::::::::

If I hear the phrase, "[Country name here] moves to set the speaker's time to 1:30" one more time I might have to scream, or else go on a homocidal rampage armed only with a placard and my ID badge. Formerly an independent kingdom, Madagascar became a French colony in 1896, but regained its independence in 1960. During 1992-93, free presidential and National Assembly elections were held, ending 17 years of single-party rule. Not only is it dilatory and disrupting, it's also utterly pointless and does not make anyone like you.


:::::::: -- ::: -- ::::::::

In 1997, in the second presidential race, Didier RATSIRAKA, the leader during the 1970s and 1980s, was returned to the presidency. The 2001 presidential election was contested between the followers of Didier RATSIRAKA and Marc RAVALOMANANA, nearly causing secession of half of the country. It's amazing that at any hour of the day or night something will be open; you can get pastrami sandwiches at 4 AM and bagels for dinner, there's live music in every subway at all times, coffee is cheap and everything else is expensive, and only tourists wait for the light to turn before crossing. In April 2002, the High Constitutional Court announced RAVALOMANANA the winner. RAVALOMANANA is now in his second term following a landslide victory in the generally free and fair presidential elections of 2006. On top of that, we saw two parades in a week.



:::::::: -- ::: -- ::::::::

Avenue Q. Is. Amazing.



Brian:
Cool.

Christmas Eve:
BRIAN! Come back here!
You take out lecycuraburs!

Princeton:
What's that mean?

Brian:
Um, recyclables.
Hey, don't laugh at her!
How many languages do you speak?

:::::::: -- ::: -- ::::::::

Five days of hiking in heels made the calves of both legs completely cramp up. Now I can't even walk up or down stairs in flats without noticing it... And dancing until 2:30 AM in said shoes did not help.

:::::::: -- ::: -- ::::::::



This is the second time I had been in the African Union committee, and both times, something strange happened. Our topic was peacekeeping, and we were a report writing committee, which meant we were intended to highlight faults, recognize progress, and suggest future action. By means of a self-organized and -moderated formal caucus we determined to divide up the topic into six areas (Responsibility to Protect, Mediation/Prevention, African Standby Force, Demobilization Disarmament and Reintegration, Refugees/IDPs, and Funding) each addressed by a specific committee with the ultimate intention of combining them. Our report segment, describing DDR--which, I might add, is not Dance Dance Revolution--was about five pages single spaced. The final report, after a minor diplomatic crisis involving Chad and the Sudan, included all component parts and was supported by all but two countries. Yeah!



:::::::: -- ::: -- ::::::::

UN Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon spoke at our opening ceremony. And that took the entire afternoon, between security and lines.

Slice of life

The scene: Suburbia, America. More specifically suburbia, Colorado. Neat, new houses in rows full of families with little kids and attempts at landscaping. Neat, little people in neat, little boxes, bringing their kiddies to school in SUVs, wearing their neon crocs and feeling socially conscious.


I don't really sleep all that much, so the 7-something on the clock is late for me. I crawl out of my pile of blankets and shuffle downstairs. It really is a shuffle at this time of the morning. I get resentful if my roommates happen to be up, and spend my time waiting for my coffee by checking if the refridgerator light works, shooting a rubber band around the living room, or eating cheerios. Sometimes all three. I'm talented like that. I eschew sugary cereals, froot loops and anything neon-colored, in favor of super-healthy, extra-fiber cereal made of dry, compacted cardboard with a hint of bran flakes and banana. Yeah, I'm one of those people. God forbid I eat a danish.



I might be addicted, I might not, but in any case, I'm in love:



And I always use the same cup. Yes, I do wash it. My coffee, my breakfast and I all go upstairs to check email and news, see how many people have died in places far away, if any friends from high school have suddenly gotten married, and if there was a paper I forgot to write which is due that day. I go for a run eventually, stylish in my headband and sweats rain, snow or shine, passing stay-at-homes with kid and dog out for a walk in the open space. I shower, I pack my bag and my lunch and sometimes my dinner, resulting in a perpetual flurry of tupperware and a slight lean to port from the weight in my shoulder bag. Six after I need to be out the door. I can see the bus out the window; if I'm already outside it I can leap the fence and make it, but if I'm still putting shoes on I've no hope. Many a time I've run, coats and bags flapping, over the lawn to catch said bus. Sometimes, though, I just have to stand and wait for it:



Or sometimes I take my car. I drive the same route, down the back and avoiding the big highway. Don't go too fast, and don't hit any cows.







Parking sucks. There's about half a block of parking that's a) free and b) not 2-hour and c) near campus, so everyone and their grandmother parks up there. But since I like hiking and I'm never late (hah) I enjoy parking a mile and a half away on some unknown street whose name I will likely have forgotten as I return for my car fourteen hours (or three dayS) later.



I live on campus. And by live, I mean that I tend to eat two meals a day there, and usually have some variation of class work class work class work meeting meeting class work meeting work class.

Everyone's (and particularly my) favorite building: The Library. Three floors, five half floors and a bazillion departments later, you are utterly lost, still have not found your book, and are quite confident that, should there be a fire, you would die in the corner of the government publications between the UN documents and the State Fish and Wildlife reports because you can't find the exit.




But this is boulder, so life here is never boring. I missed out on taking pictures of head-shaving for charity, the woman's art mural project in the student services center, the mass amount of bicycles, or many other interesting things from this week. And I swear, these were taken in the space of two days and can be considered relatively normal for College Life On Campus:


Bluegrass and bike repair in front of the rec center


Robots playing tennis

Evenings consist of homework, meetings, studying with friends at cafés, drinking with Germans in bars, tutoring, or tango. In this instance, we were trying to find bugs outside for a homework assignment:



And ending up with a bit of tango can make everyone's life better:

MMMMPFFFHH!!!!

Mmpf. Mmmpf. MMMMPFFFHH!! Put me under!

I tried. I really did. He warned me that it was likely he wouldn't be able to numb it all the way if I had a (big) cavity there, and I did and he couldn't, but I had wanted to try. But I was definitely noticing as he started pulling.

So they put me under. It was only two wisdom teeth, and they were already erupted, having had the last four or five years to sit there and nefariously plot my downfall in the form of a giant hole which made me drive an hour and a half in the snow just for the referral. So there I was. They stopped the pulling, switched gears, stabbed me in the arm, and before I went I wanted to know if I could have my ipod on.

C. was sitting across from me. What was she doing here? Wasn't she out in the lobby? I tried to tell her that I was still waiting for the operation but the whole talking thing wasn't working out. "Don't try to talk," she told me, but it was really important that I tell her something. It might have involved a professor, I'm not sure.

C. was sitting across from me. What was she doing here? I was very worried about all of this and particularly worried that my ipod was gone, and kept trying to ask her where it was, but it talking wasn't as successful as I intended, and ended up being bilingually unintelligible gibberish. "Don't try to talk," she kept telling me, but I wanted to know where my ipod was.

C. was sitting across from me. I figured out why she was there, and that there was something I wanted to tell her. "Don't try to talk," she kept telling me, because every time I would try to say anything it was a flashback to some cheap horror film as blood began to leak out and congeal blackly on the corners of my mouth. I managed to communicate that she should tell me a story--so she read me three pages out of "We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Familes: Tales from the Rwandan Genocide" which apparently shut me up.

They eventually let me go. I was absolutely convinced that Catrin had moved her car, except she had been with me the whole time. Walking was interesting and unsteady, without the regularity of a ship at sea, rather more erratic and punctuated by inane comments and occasional loss of balance.

I handed over my credit card at the pharmacist's without knowing what I was buying, and I was absolutely certain I wanted a smoothie. I even managed to order one, though I now have no idea what or how. Somehow I was able to guide C. to my parked car to retrieve my stuff, and could even mostly walk on my own.... except I only remember snippets, flash memories of my car and the pharmacist's and having a Jamba and lying on her couch without knowing how I got anywhere or what I was supposed to be doing.

C. stuck me on her couch and waited until it was time for her to collect her husband from work, leaving me with my fruity goodness, a DVD, and an hour or so to miss the movie by passing out every five minutes.


The whole experience, or at least the whole post-operative experience, was a mixture of being drunk and having a concussion, possibly with a bout of mild seasickness thrown in: no short-term memory, poor balance and swimmy vision, a small comprehension of what's actually going on and a desire to lean on stuff. It wasn't a bad experience per se, I have no negative or other emotions attached to the experience, but I generally dislike not being fully in charge of my faculties.

The plus side: nothing swelled up and I was off of painkillers (and by that I mean ibuprofen) after the first day. Plus side number two: I'm out of wisdom teeth, so I don't expect to ever repeat the experience.

Squeamish people, or people who don't like explosm.net, don't go here: www.bitterfilms.com/anesthetics-teeth.html

Character studies

Sie war eigentlich schon viel älter, man hat es ihr nur nicht angesehen. Ihr Lächeln war gerne und oft zu sehen, und wenn sie es wirklich lustig fand wurden die Augen eng wie Schlitzen, Gelächter nicht mit ihrer richtigen Stimme übereingestimmt. Sie trug eine große Schultertasche, ohne gebeugt zu laufen, auch öfters mit hochhackigen Stiefeln. Auch wenn sie relativ klein war könnte sie mehr als viele Männer trinken, Schluck für Schluck entgegenhalten.

Er hat was an sich. Den meisten Leuten verschlossen bleibend sagte er nicht so viel, er hörte lieber zu um später, darüber nachdenkend, das Thema wieder aufzugreifen. Man konnte es aber in seinen großen Augen sehen ob er es interessant oder lustig fand. Er hatte ein irgendwie verlegenes Lächeln, als ob er nicht allzu viel preisgeben wollte. In seinen Bewegungen war er sich immer sicher, in Gespräch oft nachdenklich und nur manchmal animiert, zum Komiker geworden.



Sie sucht, und weißt nicht, wonach. Sie schlägt sich in allen Richtungen, sie lernt Leute kennen, sie wechselt jede zweite Woche das Fach und jede Dritte den Freund. Fürs was-werden-wollen hat sie wenig übrig, stattdessen kaufte sie sich neue T-shirts oder eine Jacke, nur um sie in die Ecke der Wohnung zu schieben, zu vergessen.

Es ist faszinierend wie er schwitzt, jeden Morgen. Er muss mit dem Rad gekommen sein, denn manchmal läuft ihm der Schweiß den Rücken runter, bis hin zu seinem Gürtel. Unter den Armen wachsen immer dunklen Flecken und ich stelle mir vor, wie sie irgendwann auch das ganze T-Shirt erobern. Seine Frisur sieht wie ein genervter Igel aus, irgendwie oben drauf viel zu hoch und dazu noch mit Gel verfestigt. Trotzdem ist er irgendwie attraktiv, vielleicht deswegen, weil sein klebriges T-Shirt die Einzelheiten seines Rückens genau nachzeichnet.



Es gibt eine, die ich nicht leiden kann. Es gibt wenige solcher Leute, aber die ist nicht auszuhalten. Irgendwie immer noch da mit 27, verheiratet--wer würde sie denn heiraten?--benimmt sie sich wie ein Kleinkind, unerzogen und egoistisch. Ich stelle mir vor, sie mit Gummibändern zu beschießen.

Ein relativ kleiner, mickriger Typ war er, nicht besonders auffallend, Haare immer genau gescheitelt und sehr korrekt, dazu noch komische Zähne. Aber wenn er anfängt zu tanzen schwebt einem das Herz, wenn er den Tanz führt, die eigenen Schritte gedankenlos durchführend und die meinen--da ist schon was.



Er sieht wie eine Schildkröte aus. Die Gläser seiner Brille sind wie Bierdeckel oder noch größer, und diejenigen Haare, die er irgendwann mal hatte, haben sich schon längst auf besseren Wege verabschiedet. Dazu noch läuft er etwas verbeugt, etwas nach vorne guckend, und ich bin fast davon überzeugt, dass er den Kopf schräg zur Seite legt, wenn er zuhört. Ob er lachen kann?

Nochmals ein großer. Ich locke sie an, irgendwie. Jedenfalls kenn ich sein Schlüsselbein nun allzu gut, sein weißes T-Shirt auch. Und ich bin nicht mal klein--nicht auffällig groß. Geführt hatte er, dreimal, immer besser werdend.



Sie lächelt gerne, und sie überlegt sich, bevor sie was sagt. Eine Brille trägt sie, oder manchmal auch Kontaktlinsen, und sie sieht mit der Brille wie man eine Bibliothekarin sich gerne vorstellt--und ich sage das nicht nur, weil ich auch eine bin. Schön ist sie, aber nicht auffällig, aber wenn man sie genau anschaut, ist es kein Wunder, dass sich so viele in sie verlieben. Sie erhofft sich aber immer mehr, als sie bekommen hat.

Sie lächelt auch gerne, und viel, und ist mal sehr redsam, mal sehr zurückhaltend. Ein Widerspruch: sie kann sowohl sehr anlockend als auch sehr abweisend wirken, und sie wagt nicht so viel, wie sie wagen sollte. Sie lebt so vor sich in auf eigenen Wegen, irgendwie nie so perfekt passend. Sie scheint so eine zu sein, die alles im Griff hat, aber manchmal scheint er auch die Spontanität zu fehlen.

Elle m'a dit - Cali

Je crois que je ne t'aime plus
Elle m'a dit ça hier,
ça a claqué dans l'air
comme un coup de revolver

Je crois que je ne t'aime plus
Elle a jeté ça hier,
entre le fromage et le dessert
comme mon cadavre à la mer

Je crois que je ne t'aime plus
Ta peau est du papier de verre
sous mes doigts ... sous mes doigts
Je te regarde et je pleure
juste pour rien ... comme ça

Sans raison je pleure,
à gros bouillons je pleure,
comme devant un oignon je pleure,
arretons là lalala lalalalalala

{Refrain:}
Elle m'a dit lalala lalalalalala
Elle m'a dit

Je crois que je ne t'aime plus
Relève toi, relève toi
Ne te mouche pas dans ma robe,
pas cette fois ... relève toi

Tu n'as plus d'odeur,
tes lèvres sont le marbre
de la tombe de notre amour,
elle m'a dit ça son sang était froid

Quand je fais l'amour avec toi
je pense à lui
Quand je fais l'amour avec lui
je ne pense plus à toi lalala lalalalalala

{au Refrain}

Je crois que je ne t'aime plus
Elle m'a dit ça hier,
ça a pété dans l'air
comme un vieux coup de tonnerre

Je crois que je ne t'aime plus
Je te regarde et je ne vois rien
Tes pas ne laissent plus de traces
à coté des miens

Je ne t'en veux pas,
je ne t'en veux plus,
je n'ai juste plus d'incendie
au fond du ventre c'est comme ça lalala lalalalalala

{au Refrain, x2}
lalala lalalalalala

Alors j'ai éteint la télé
mais je n'ai pas trouvé le courage,
par la fenêtre de me jeter :
Mourir d'amour n'est plus de mon âge
lalala lalalalalala

{au Refrain}
lalala lalalalalala

Je crois que je vais m'évanouir
Elle m'a dit ça hier
Avant de s'effondrer à terre
Comme foudroyée par le tonnerre

Je crois que je vais m'évanouir
Elle m'a soufflé hier
Puis son visage est devenu vert
Et moi je n'ai pas su quoi faire

Je crois que je vais m'évanouir
Sans cesse je fais la guerre
Contre qui... contre quoi
Ma vie est devenu un enfer

Et je ne sais pas... pourquoi
Sans raison j'ai peur
Une intuition j'ai peur
D'avoir raison j'ai peur
Arrêtons là lalala lalalalalala

{au Refrain}

Je crois que je vais m'évanouir
Aide moi, aide moi
Ne me laisse pas tomber
Je ne suis pas bien... aide moi
J'ai mal au cœur
Et la peau bien trop froide
Comme un glaçon qui ne veut pas fondre

Elle m'a dit ça j'ai pas pu la réchauffer
Quand je suis debout toute seule
Je tremble un peu
Quand je suis debout avec toi
Tu ne t'en aperçois pas

{au Refrain}

Je crois que je vais m'évanouir
Elle m'a dit ça hier
Et moi j'ai cru bien faire
En riant devant son air

Je crois que je vais mourir
Mon cœur s'emballe pour rien
Mais je crois que le pire c'est
Quand il s'arrête un brin
Je ne t'en veux pas,
Je ne t'en veux plus,
Tu ne pouvais pas deviner
Que c'était pas de la comédie lalala lalalalalala

{au Refrain, x2}
lalala lalalalalala

Alors je l'ai enterré
Mais je n'ai pas trouvé le courage
Auprès d'elle de m'excuser
J'suis trop vieux trop con pour me pardonner
lalala lalalalalala

{au Refrain}
lalala lalalalalala

Studentenleben

Nachts in die Badeanstalt
Und danach mit den Bullen aufs Revier
Der Kuss in der Schrankwand der Eltern
Ein Herz und zwei Namen im Fournier

Die ewige Bludsbrüderschaft
Und am nächsten Tag nicht mehr erkannt
Drei Stunden mit dem Taxi um den Block
Weil ich den Fahrer so niedlich fand

Drei Mädls im Bayern Trickot
In der Südkurve vom HSV
Der ehrliche Brief an den Chef
Und das eng tanzen mit seiner Frau

Die alberne Anbaggerwette im Urlaub
Und die Hochzeit danach
Latein als Leistungskurs
Diese Frisur und mein Plattenvertrag

Das alles wär nie passiert
Das alles wär nie passiert
Das alles wär nie passiert
Ohne Prosecco

Das alles wär nie passiert
Das alles wär nie passiert
Das alles wär nie passiert
Ohne Prosecco

Sonntag morgen 17 Uhr 10
Es weckt mich das Telefon
Ich hab nichts als die Stiefel noch an
Meine Sinne sind nicht mehr synchron

Alles was ich von gestern noch weiss
Ist wie ich in Extase geriet
Ich schrie auf die Revolution
Reiss die Mucke auf das ist mein Lied

Der Freund auf dem Anrufbeantworter
brüllt "Eh was hast du genommen"
Er sagt mein BH sei auf Ebay
Wie bin ich nach Hause gekommen

Himmelarsch wieso bin ich gepierct
Und was soll dieses Schlangentatoo
Wessen Zeug liegt auf meinem Bett
Und wer zum Teufel bist du

Das alles wär nie passiert
Das alles wär nie passiert
Das alles wär nie passiert
Ohne Prosecco

Das alles wär nie passiert
Das alles wär nie passiert
Das alles wär nie passiert
Ohne Prosecco
Annett Louisan - Das alles wär nie passiert

The life of a college student consists, perforce, of taking the path of least resistance. While all of us may have sought to minimize our effort while maximizing our gain (and of course, completely rational, homo oeconomicus-style), it is among college students where one finds 'doing as little as possible' refined to an art. Procrastinating and putting everything off to the last minute is par for the course and far from a perjorative. In fact, people look at you askance if you write papers in advance, study more than one or two days in advance of a test, or regularly do your homework where not absolutely necessary.

This is not to say college students are lazy, though they can be--students usually juggle jobs and classes, friends, sports, parties, activities, hobbies, boyfriends or girlfriends. The point is to catch the ball before it hits the ground, even if there's only barely room to spare.

If you're savvy you pick a good major or combination of majors; if you're not, you may switch two or three or four times, but don't expect to graduate before you're 30 (and the "super senior" club doesn't provide additional benefits).

The point is to maximize the time spent doing other things besides studying, which involves calculating the minimum time required for a certain activity (writing a paper, studying for a test, etc), calculating the last possible moment when this can possible be started, and finding something better to do in the meantime. Of course, I'm the opposite to all of this, but in general, the logic holds true; my calculations tend to be different but the principle remains the same.

Dass du nicht mehr bist
was du einmal warst
seit du dich für mich
ausgezogen hast

Dass du alles schmeißt
wegen einer Nacht
und alles verlierst
war so nicht gedacht

Du willst mich für dich
und du willst mich ganz
doch auf dem Niveau
macht’s mir keinen Spaß

Das füllt mich nicht aus
ich fühl mich zu haus
nur zwischen den Stühlen

Ich will doch nur spielen
ich tu doch nichts

Dass du wegen mir
irgendwen verläßt
dass du manchmal weinst
weil es dich verletzt

Dass es immer mal
jemand andren gibt
der sich hier und da
in mein lebenschiebt

Dass du dich verliebst
weil du’s mit mir tust
dass es dich so trifft
hab ich nicht gewußt

Es war nie geplant
dass du dich jetzt fühlst
wie einer von vielen

Ich will doch nur spielen
ich tu doch nichts

Dass du nicht mehr schläfst
weil es dich erregt
wenn ich mich beweg’
wie ich mich beweg’

Dass du fast verbrennst
unter meiner Hand
wenn ich dich berühr
hab ich nicht geahnt

Ich steh nur so rum
tu so dies und das
fahr mir durch das Haar
und schonwillst du was

Laß mal lieber sein
hab zuviel Respekt
vor deinen Gefühlen

Ich will doch nur spielen
ich tu doch nichts
Annett Louisan - Das Spiel

Nerd porn / Brussels of the West

The negotiations weren't going well. We had managed, with much discussion, to address the first item on the agenda, and agreed upon a High Representative for Foreign Relations with as-yet-undecided purview that was explicitly neither a minister nor authorized to create policy but 'merely' implement. The symbols and name 'Constitution' were long gone (agenda item 2) and we were left with the Charter of Fundamental Human Rights. The UK was stalling--it would override aspects of their anglo-saxon legal tradition, and enforce the right to strike--and Poland should have been, but wasn't quite with it. A compromise was negotiated, proposed by the UK, allowing them time to implement, or not, with recourse to the ECJ. They had no intention of implementing, but with the next regime in the UK, anything was possible. And then Romania vetoed, with Poland. Someone was able to talk them around to withdrawing their objection to the compromise, but then Belgium, upset at the compromises 'forced' by the UK, vetoed, and refused to withdraw. An hour and a half wasted.

Next item: voting. Poland, of course, made a confusing presentation on the Penrose system, a mathematical formula which would have favored Poland and other mid-sized states such as Spain against larger states such as Germany, but only the Czech Republic actually was in support, though not to the extent they would veto. The rest of us went back and forth on aspects of Qualified Majority Voting or Double Majority Voting, or the status quo; the proposed revisions would favor smaller states and was more "equitable". Poland is talked around, and Luxembourg proposes an amendment designed to safeguard the smaller states, and everyone is happy. Until Spain vetoes, because someone told her it would benefit Spain to follow Poland--which it would, but that was against Spain's actual position--but ostensibly because Belgium had killed the Human Rights Charter.

Time is running short. Belgium is convinced to withdraw her veto, whereupon Spain withdraws hers--and Malta threatens to veto if his provision for electing the council President (actually the following agenda topic but not the one up for debate) by QMV and not consensus. He was convinced to withdraw, if we would support him on that discussion when that agenda item came up--and the Czech Republic vetoed, agaist stated actual policy.

With an amendment providing for delayed implementation and a mandatory review, she was convinced to buckle, and in the end, everything got taken care of. If the real world is anything like this, I'm very scared.