Tuesday, December 20, 2011

My story of presents

And it's not even Christmas yet!
Presents affect me differently than they do other people. Those other people seem happy, maybe even moved to tears to receive a nice present. To make people feel this small happiness is my main goal, when I give presents. But I, rather than just being happy, am having flashbacks. Let me tell you some of them.

It is custom to give children a small present on Saint Nicholas Day. It is also custom that the children clean their shoes on the day before. It's like an advance payment for Saint Nicholas. If you don't clean your shoes, you're considered a naughty child and won't receive any presents in said shoes. Because that's where the present will be put: in your shoes on the morning of Saint Nicholas Day. This is also what defines the size of your present, since it has to fit in your shoes. Of course, sweets are also usually given. I wasn't such an usual case as a child, though. I never liked sweets a lot, so my parents stopped giving them to me. Instead I received (very old-fashioned) tangerines, oranges, apples and nuts and the obilgatory chocolate Santa. I was very happy with it and the chocolate ended up being thrown away most of the times. As I was getting older, the rule that the present has to fit in my shoe kinda evaporated. How can you ever fit a book in a shoe? Even a small one won't fit, so what.
One Saint Nicholas Day, when I was 16, I remember distinctly. As I was getting ready for school, I checked on my shoes and found them empty. Saint Nicholas hadn't visited my house so to say. I was a bit shocked and kinda sad, but thought to myself "Maybe my parents consider me too old for this and they even might be right." I therefore wasn't angry. I just wished my parents had told me before. I would have saved me useless anticipation and quite some disappointment and sadness. But there was no changing it, しょうがない, so off to school I went. I didn't fear I'd have to tell my classmates that I didn't get anything. We were too old for the what-did-you-get-game by then. I wouldn't have to tell anybody. Also I had decided not to talk about this with my parents. I wouldn't say anything and this day, too, would be over soon and next year I would know better not to expect anything.
But, there's always a but, I had the course Social Science that day and our teacher really took an interest in what we got for Saint Nicholas Day. So everybody, about 12 people, had to describe it in full detail. When it came to me (I was cursing on the inside. No chance to dodge the question, dammit!), I just said "Nuthin" to which our teacher looked very surprised and asked "What? Why? Oh. Isn't this a custom in your family?" I told her, it was a custom in my family. "Then why didn't you get anything?" I told her, I didn't know. She got silent after this, gave me a look I couldn't interpret and then changed the subject, starting the real lesson then.
As I got home, I didn't really think about Saint Nicholas Day that much anymore. I'm still like that today: When I get home from university or work, a new day starts. Per definition, it's a new day. Sometimes I even sleep a bit to be able to wake up to my new day. So as I came home, my father was in the living room, greeting me through the open door, but didn't come out to see me. Yelling through the house instead of talking face to face is very common in my family. I went to the kitchen to fetch something to eat and on the kitchen table lay... a book and some sweets. I was surprised and unsure what to do now, so I asked my dad (yelling through the house, as usual those days) "This book here and the sweets...?" He yelled back "There for you, of course, for Saint Nicholas Day." "But this morning, why..?" "You didn't clean your shoes, silly."
I had cleaned my shoes, but they were so worn out, that cleaning didn't do a thing. What I needed were new shoes, same as new clothing altogether. But that's another story. Point is, my father didn't see me cleaning them and the effect wasn't visible, so he had decided to punish me this way. He didn't know, he had done this based on wrong assumptions and he also didn't know that I didn't finish my last question because I had started crying really hard. Tears were running down my cheeks and I covered my mouth with my hand, so my father wouldn't hear me.
Still feel like the most spoiled child on earth when thinking about this story. But to this day, it still affects my view of presents and anticipation.

Another story is the story of Christmas last year. I spent a quite shite Christmas full of work and frustration. It was American-style and I had a stocking and was taught the stocking only contains sweets and a small present, while the real presents are to be found under the Christmas tree. Okay, I thought. So I had something in my stocking, something small, but didn't get the real present. Certain Someone apologized, he didn't have the time to get something plus he had no idea what to get me. But I had wished explicitly for something, I reminded him. He had forgotten. I felt betrayed.

The next story is tied closely to last Christmas. It was my birthday in January and Certain Someone invited me over and first thing told me, I wouldn't get a present. He didn't have time to get something plus he had no idea what to get me. Sounded bleak to me and I was sad and furious. He promised to make up for it in the following weeks, but needless to say this never happened.

So after stories like this, I became convinced that I shouldn't anticipate at all. Neither presents nor anything at all. And if presents were to be involved, I would wish very clearly for what I want. This way I would never be disappointed again. Works pretty good so far, concerning the disappointment at least.
I wished for something from the Auction Winner. He is gone over the holidays and I wished for him to come back to me. He was a bit taken by surprise by my wish, but said, he would come back. A day before he left, he gave me a present. Wrapped and all. I was very surprised, didn't anticipate this at all. Said Thank you a few times, while he told me repeatedly that it was only "something small". Being alone back home I had a minor breakdown, while staring at the present. All those stories I just told you flashed back and I couldn't stifle them.
I still haven't opened the present and what's in it isn't the point to me. His thoughts are. To give me a present even though he could have easily gotten around it. I'm sure, he doesn't know just how much this isn't "something small" to me.

I think this Christmas is going to be a lot better than last year's. Even with the Auction Winner far away I'll try to just enjoy it. I'll be with my friends only and skip the hurtful family part.
I told y'all my story of presents and will now stop to wallow in my sadness. Try to, anyway.

On a different note: As I was writing this in a bakery, while waiting for my train, the old woman sitting next to me got up to leave and said "Goodbye, have a nice day". I replied, that I wished her a nice day, too. And what did she say? "I'll make my day nice on my own." And smiled. Now that's the right attitude!

Thursday, December 15, 2011


Today I wanted to clean up the area above my desk. Loads of letters were lying there, awaiting my decision if they're worthy or not. Worthy to keep, that is.
So I was sorting through them and one was found worthy. It was a postcard from my dad's holiday last summer. I like that he sends me postcards, even though they have no content whatsoever. Just "the weather is nice, we have so much fun here" and never anything more. But the pictures are always nicely sought out and I appreciate the thought. I wanted to put said postcard in the box where I keep worthy letters and postcards. And card games. I'm so very sorry, but they have to share the box. It shouldn't be that bad, I only own three card games. But of course it's bad, very bad. I opened the box and it was filled to the brim. The card games were drowning in letters and postcards and whatnot and whimpering for help. The help, that's me.
I spilled the box's content over my (just cleaned-up) desk and started the sorting process. As expected I found stuff I didn't even remember I still have. Some things I didn't even remember I ever got them!
I hate keeping things for the sake of remembrance! A lot of people tried to talk me out of this, but I still think I have my head to remember. And if I don't remember this or that? Well then, fuck it. I probably needed the bandwidth for something more important.
What is worthy to keep then? Found worthy were most of the postcards from my parents. Not the ugly ones or those with only two lines on them, of course. I also kept lotsa birthday letters, because they were nice and/or pretty. The letters from France I kept, too, even though they are 10 years old and the odds we will ever have contact again are slight. I threw out letters from ex-boyfriends and those who had a unrequited crush on me. Why did I ever put that in this box! Lazy me. I also threw out loads out letters from former BFFs. No point in keeping that stuff, when the friendship died a peaceful death years ago.
As I was going through all those letters and cards that I hadn't looked at for years (I should maybe clean up more often, huh?), I felt that they all were just a burden for me. I mostly stuffed them in this box to forget about them and be able to throw them out some time later. Never would I have thought it would take years...
Anyhow, I reduced this mass of emotional scribble on all kinds of paper (square, round, flower-shaped, with smell) to less than a third. The card games were happy to have some space to breathe again. Peace in the box was restored as they didn't have to kick the letters anymore. My inner peace was restored as well, as I feel much lighter now. Throwing stuff out makes me feel free, light and enlightened.
So not only did I clear the area above my desk, I also cleared the worthy-letters-box and my soul, too. I'm such an hero today.

Thursday, December 01, 2011


Wow! It's already December.
Lately I've had so much to do, so much to take care of and a private life to tend to on top if it all, that I (being German and in the mood to translate literally so that nobody might really understand) didn't know "where my head was". Time was just flying by and I had lost all feeling for it. In my head actually it's still summer! The weather outside seems to be making fun of me with all that cold and rain and cold rain. I was just too busy. My to-do-list was getting longer everyday and in the mornings I had trouble getting out of bed, because who wants to get started on all those effing tasks?! Certainly not me, I would like to have someone (a minion maybe) to take care of all that shite.
But now things have calmed down a bit. The to-do-list is still long, but the tasks on it are less tough. I'm able to see ahead, which is a nice thing. Getting up in the morning is still not desirable, but that might mean nothing but I'm a sleepyhead.

As for Christmas, I'm so not in the mood. I have nice plans for Christmas itself, but to spend all December in anticipation isn't exactly me. I don't even want to decorate the flat. My flatmate (the nice one) is already totally into Christmas-mode and spent hours on creating decoration. But for me it's all still far away. Still summer, ya know?
Last Christmas was kinda shite though and I hope this one will be better. I will visit friends and not bother with my family, because they suck at Christmas and at being nice to me. Will visit my mother to celebrate New Year's though, so fingers crossed, we won't kill each other in the process! No risk, no fun! Yay!

Future posts are in the making, so this blog won't die.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Sick Fuckers!

You know why I called this blog "on my lookout"? No, you don't. But since I'm having a nice day I'll tell you. I called it like this, because I was searching for a name like crazy (look here) and finally decided to be honest and admit that I constantly look out my window peeking at the weird people outside. Now that Halloween is over, I see again why we totally don't need it. We don't need people coming to our flat screeching stupid sayings at us (and thankfully nobody came, so we didn't need to traumatize little children by ranting at them, thank God), because we have all the creepiness in our daily life just in front of us!
Today this is going to be about my neighbours. About those neighbours just opposite my flat on the other side of the street.
I could also go into detail about the creepiness of all the other neighbours. Like the one on the second floor, who makes these strange noises at night that freak us all out. Or the young couple who bought an ugly dachshund instead of having a baby together. (This is why there are too less babies in this country: The people just buy pets instead! This world is falling to pieces, I tell you.)
But no, today this is about the weirdest neighbours of all. Why are they so weird, you might ask? Well, I'm sure, I'm absolutely SURE they fuck their dog.
It's a married couple (or at least I think they're married) and about a year ago they bought a dog. A puppy Golden Retriever. Very cute at the beginning. But it turns out the husband loves the poor thing just too much. Just today I saw the husband coming home and the dog was at the window. It always looks out the window, like a cat would. With the curtains all piled up on its head, it looks hilarious! So when the man saw his dog looking out the window, he got all exited, waving and blowing kisses at the dog. Seriously, who blows kisses at his dog?!
This window usually also shows the procedure when the husband leaves home for work. Doggie then gives him real-life french kisses which his master enjoys and he even kisses back! Thank God they don't go farther than this, at least not out in the open.
I rarely see the wife. If I see her, then she's usually walking the dog and looking a bit grim. Well, I would certainly look grim too, if my husband would give the dog more attention and love than he gives me. My hypothetical husband anyway would never do such a thing!
Is this amount of love and creepiness too much for the dog? I don't think so. It's a bit uneducated though, it jumps up everyone it meets on the streets. Dog drool, paws and dirt everywhere. But the poor thing doesn't look terrified or disturbed to me. So, instead of worrying, if I should worry more about the dog or the wife, I will just try to avert my eyes. Sick fuckers!

Friday, October 28, 2011


It's Halloween. Apparently.
So I decided to show off my cute decoration to y'all. Here he is!!

The cute little fella had a photo shooting the other day and was feeling a bit shy at the beginning. So at first he tried just sitting there to get used to the setting (the dinner table) and the friendly photographer (the Auction Winner), whom he also didn't know hefore. It was all a bit much for a little pumpkin, ya know?

So we tried a few portraits to warm him up...

You can see here, he looks a lot more relaxed now. He liked taking the centre stage. As decoration you don't usually get that much action and he was enjoying the attention. Plus it was his first time away from home also, so curiosity slowly took over.

Being told he would become famous once I publish the pics on my blog really got him started. His cheeky side came out and he was posing happily.

I actually don't give two shits about Halloween. It's an American thing and I just don't get the thrill of it. Other people go crazy about it and seem to love it, while I just stand there asking myself "wtf is so great about this".

Together with my flatmates we reached a decision: Should some kiddos dare and ring our doorbell screeching the German version of "trick or treat" at us, we would harshly tell them off for being too American and slam the door in their faces. Serves them right!
Around here it is rarely seen that people actually decorate something scary for Halloween, thank God. Of course the supermarkets go crazy with all kinds of shit you can buy there. That the Halloween stuff stands just right next to the Christmas stuff, makes the whole thing even more shite.

So I have this cute little pumpkin, because he smiled at me in the store and I just couldn't resist. Weak me. But Halloween can kiss my and his little

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Simple things

Just recently I found out once more what fun means for me. I'm usually bored with other people's definition of fun. Even really elaborate things, that take a lot of effort bore me out of my skull. After the activity I feel empty and like I merely spent energy on it without receiving anything at all. I hate this feeling. It makes me think I just wasted my time, my energy, my life. So I always go for the real fun things.

Fun means sitting at the lake with my feet dipped in it, watching how the sun sparkles on the water. Fun is biking into the unknown suburbs without any goal whatsoever besides being outside, then finding nice places, sitting down and blowing soap bubbles into the autumn wind. Taking a walk on the cemetery and then sitting down on the gras under some beeches eating beechnuts until mouth and throat feel dry. Repeating vocabulary and learning new words in every situation, like when biking or cooking. Standing outside in the middle of a godawful cold night looking at the stars, enjoying the cold air on my face. Eating breakfast in bed while not worrying about the crumbs. Listening to people talking about themselves. Balancing on the wall at the river, about 4 metres over the water's edge and shocking the people on the regular walk by simply being up on the wall. Walking into said river with rolled up pants and splash around with the water. Going shopping, taking forever and making fun of the weird fashion nowadays and the weird people around. Strolling around aimlessly in lonely streets in a warm night that is bright as day due to full moon. Sitting in the bathtub for like forever, laughing about stupid jokes. Getting answers in Russian when I asked in Japanese. Swimming laps and calculating how many metres that just was.

So much fun! So much enjoyment! So rewarding!

When I can't find somebody whose definition of fun matches mine, I just do such stuff alone. But I did all these things just in the last two months with the Auction Winner.
I think, I might be falling in love.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

About doctors

No, I don't hate doctors.
I'm very thankful they exist and I'm convinced they make this world a better place. Or at least they make people being able to see that the world is a better place. Better than it was before going to the doctor. You know.

But as we all have experienced or read in horrible articles in tabloids there are good and bad doctors around. But what makes a doctor a bad doctor? I mean, all of them studied and graduated, so they just have to know their job in some sense, don't they.

Of course it's bad, when a doctor makes a horrible mistake. Like sewing his watch in your stomach or taking out your appendix when you were there for your tonsils.
But with the crazy overtime work hours they have to put up with you can't really blame them doing every OP on autopilot. At least here in Germany doctors work like 36 hours in one shift, then go sleep in the storage room for a few hours only to have it start all over again. These poor creatures don't remember what their house looks like let alone their wife, if something like that ever existed. What do you do with your great salary, if you never have time to spend it? Where's the sense in such a life? I don't know, that's why I'm becoming an engineer. That and because I hate people.
It's also bad, when the doctor cannot figure out why you're feeling bad. But then again, who is supposed to remember everything he's ever read/heard? There's so much to know about every sickness you can possibly have, it's just too much for one brain. In my opinion that's what books are for. And brainstorming with other doctors.

But I think there are other things that make doctors bad. The biggest one is insensitivity!
Last week I was at my doctor's and asked him, why I have the same (light, no worries) infection every few weeks all over again. He said, it could be loads of reasons. Like deficiency of vitamins or ... or ... or HIV. Man, am I glad that I know for a fact I'm negative, otherwise this would have had me starting into a panic. Since he wanted to do bloodtests, I would have been in that panic until the results. Dammit, couldn't he have been more sensitive?!
Once upon a time I was in pain for 3 days and therefore a bit worried, so I went to a doctor. Who then proceeded to press on my aching body and ask me "Does this hurt?" Me pressed a "Yes" through the teeth. Only to be told that other patients would have jumped to the ceiling, so my pain can't be that serious. Hallo?! Maybe I just deal differently with pain than other people?! Plus... jumping to the ceiling... what does that even mean!?
Once upon another time I was in heavy pain (allergy) and my step-sister, who happens to be a doctor, gave me treatment. She's one of those, who can remember everything they ever read, so she really good at giving diagnoses. But dealing with patients in pain isn't her strong point. She had this kinda cold, distant way of telling me that even though my ankle has doubled in size I should just suck it up, since it's not serious yet. Thank god for that... I don't want to know what is serious then! Couldn't really complain though. She helped me and I was better the next day. But sensitivity hasn't been in one room with her. Ever.

Lots of doctors are totally clueless what severe pain feels like in real life. So I suggest every doctor should experience severe pain at least once in life. Over a longer period, let's say, a week. It should be part of the curriculum. "Severe pain", once a trimester. The students experience the pain and then have to write a paper about how it made them feel. I expect life-changing results. If not, the pain wasn't severe enough.

Where do I have to submit my suggestion?

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Sweeping the dirt out

Currently I'm in a phase in my life (again), where I ponder why I'm not married yet. It's not like I spent my days so far in a dungeon, hidden from people. Certainly not. But still not married... still not married... still not pregnant... getting older and still not pregnant. When my mother was my age, I was already five years old! My grandmother even said this fact to my face once. That hurt.

But I don't want to marry just anyone. I'm not married yet, because I broke up each and every one of my relationships. And I had reasons. Good reasons in my opinion, which didn't always match my partner's opinion on the matter.

I ended my first relationship, because it didn't deserve this label.
I ended the second relationship a few times (he did, too) and made it final after four years of struggling with it. This was sad, he was my first love and you know. I wanted to marry him and have lots of babies. And a house. And two big cars. I wanted all the sugary happiness from the TV-commercials and more. But we were just too young, made too many mistakes, hurt each other too often. We hadn't quite worked out yet who we wanted to be and couldn't deal with each other because if this. It was just too early.
Plus we were a really bad match.
The third one was ended by him, because of his depressions and I would have signed that statement anyway. We agreed. We had always agreed actually, never really had a fight. Sadly we agreed on the break-up, too.
The fourth one I ended because of his depressions. See a pattern forming? Fuck. Anyways, he had big issues and it not only was disturbing for me. He also concentrated so much on "us", that he neglected the work on himself and it made him worse. A relationship should make you better imho, so I left. I'm glad to report he's a lot better nowadays. Not that we would have lots of contact.
The fifth I ended because I was deeply in love. But it just wasn't reciprocated. Nothin' to do about it. Shoganai.
And I just recently ended things with Certain Someone. Basically left him sitting in a big pile made out of his own problems. Which was exactly the reason why I left: He had so many problems and pushed them all onto me. I'm all in for helping my partner (that's what a partner is there for, huh?), but I had to draw a line when I realized it was destroying me.

Not to mention I had too little action in all these relationships. But I guess, this is to be expected since other things also didn't work out. Can't be great in one part and fucked up in the other. Wouldn't be logical.

What about those reasons that piss all the other women off?
Infidelity? I don't give a shit. Do what you want, stay safe, come back and don't ask me where I've been. Lack of money? I've never had a lot of money in my life, I can deal with it as long as there's an upwards trend. Porn? Sheesh, it's not the '50s anymore. He talks too little? Good Lord, you can talk things to death, seriously. It's better to talk less. It's a matter of quality, not quantity. He always, always wants sex? Send him over. Please.

I'm not afraid of things I don't know yet. You got kids? Dunno, bring them on, I might like it. You wanna live in France for a few years? Cool, I'm in. You're younger / way older than me? Who knows, if this will ever be an issue.
And as it turns out, none of these things ever were the dealbreaker.

So. Still not married. But I'm not going to sit here and wait for the happiness to come. I'm gonna go out and get it!

Sunday, September 25, 2011

I fucking hate people!

Especially when they get on my nerves. Which they tend to do a lot. Some days I could just walk around and shoot people!

Last Saturday was one of those days: As I walked to university at a totally inhuman time in a half-awake state, I had to have the bad luck to get to know the janitor. I walked to the back door of the building, pulled the door and nothing happened. It was locked. So I thought "I will just go to the front door and wait for my mentor to arrive. He surely has a key." Walked away, being in total peace with myself and the world. This was when the janitor had to show me all the wisdom he had avaible atm. "The door is locked. It won't open without a key!" You don't say. Isn't this how doors are supposed to work anyway?
Fuck! Just leave me alone! Peaceful mood ruined by stupid janitor! Great.

Last Sunday actually was also one of those: I was in the cinema watching Harry Potter. Yes, I know, it's been out for some time, but I never had the chance to watch it before. Too much to do, too much...well, let's be honest: I missed the last Twilight and Narnia movies with exactly this attitude. Anyway, this one I didn't miss. So I was there and since the movie is kinda dark, it had all these important silent, thrilling moments, in which you're supposed to shiver and fear for Harry, Hermione or whoever you like the most. BUT it was not possible. There were three chicks, who just had to giggle (loudly) in all of those moments! No thrill whatsoever! Since I feel kinda robbed of my money for the ticket, if I cannot enjoy the movie, I wanted to tell them to keep their traps shut. But I concluded this would lead to a fight, so I didn't. I hissed at them. Probably also audible for everybody else. Oh well, the chicks stopped being so damn loud. After they giggled, because they got hissed at. Good Lord!

I wished there would be some kind of punishment for stupid, disturbing behaviour. Something drastic, so it would scare people into better ways.
Like this: People, who make these disgusting fatty blotches on the windows in public busses or trams, shall be dismembered. People, who take the longest time to pay in a shop, because they fiddle with their purse, shall pay with their blood instead. People, who walk annoyingly slow in pedestrian zones, shall be banned from them forever. Okay, this one wasn't so harsh.

They also shall be glad, I'm able to vent it all off instead of making my ideas come true.

Peaceful mood restored.

Monday, September 05, 2011

Sunny day

Last saturday I had a very difficult decision to make.
It seemed like a sunny, warm day and since I complain so much about the lack of summer I should have made use of the sun for some good vitamin D, don't you think? Well, but the consecration of my parish's new church also happened to be on that day. And of course it was set at midday, when sun and warmth reach their maximum. Now I had the coice of going to said consecration or going sunbathing and swimming with the Auction Winner.

But since you had to have your seat in church reserved and I already had my seat for weeks plus the minimal chances of seeing a consecration of a church I actually give a shit about ever again, I decided to ditch swimming. Talk about worst decision ever!

It started being shite when I went out to go to church all dressed for said warm, sunny day and realized it was a hot, hot, sun-burning-from-the-sky day. Damn.
The consecration didn't start in the church, but in front of it. We all stood there sweating, panting and waiting for the start. After some speeches we formally entered the church. As it is, people tend to stand in the way and they forget how to walk normally to get their fucking seat. So a person was placed just in the middle of the entrance showing people where to turn. But I guess I was the only one who had to fight off the association with Mengele. Am I weird? Yes. And lovin' it.
The church is a small one and has never been this full of people. On top of the heat outside it was also awfully hot in there. I sat in the very back (too lazy to fight my way into church earlier) next to a very, very old man. I'm guessing he was over 70. Old people may be nice and everything, but we all know they don't smell like flowers. Old people in godawful full and hot church really don't smell like anything you want to smell. Ew. To top that off... the old man smiled very nicely at me in the beginning and during the service he scooted closer and closer. Ahem... very flattering. Not. I finally worked up the courage to hiss at him politely and he scooted back to normal distance. Ew.
The service by itself was nice and I have seen a consecration now. It didn't blow me away, but I have been there and have seen everything with my own eyes. If this counts anywhere for anything.
Almost at the end of the service the parish's representative stood up and announced the representatives of whatnot would say some "short greetings" now. First up was the substitute woman for the mayor, who couldn't come. As these people are, they don't understand what "short greeting" means and she talked for a freaking long time and it was so shitty... I wanted to throw something at her to make her stop. Rotten tomatos or eggs for example. Then a friend told me that she was only the first out of six and I flipped. I was so not going to endure six of those! After the second speech (it was the representative of the catholic church and he spoke quite well) I snuck out. Before the service had even ended! I escaped to the heat outside and went home. My clothes were soaked (ew) and the sunshine was already set to call it a day. Damn.

Turns out the Auction Winner slept till too-late-for-sunbathing anyway, so I didn't miss anything. But even alone it would have been a lot nicer time at the lake. Fuck.

Thursday, September 01, 2011

Again! And it sucks so much!

I'm having a fever again! I'm feeling really shitty and am in pain, so yesterday I went to a doctor and got something prescribed. A something that I had to pick up from the pharmacy. It was late already, so I had to go to the pharmacy in the central station. Let the fun begin.

I arrived there sweating buckets and freezing at the same time. Plus pain. I just wanted my medicine and then return home. But no, there was a queue. Fuck. Well, being well-educated I stood at the end, waiting impatiently. The queue was supposed to be for all their counters. They had like 6 counters there, but only three were open and some assholes had decided, that they were way too cool for our queue and had created a second one just for one counter. Fuckers.
After like 2 minutes one counter closed! Man, I was so pissed off. To wait now even longer didn't feel nice to me, literally. The second queue died after a while, cause the pharmacist at this counter was quite efficient. And finally, finally I was at a counter and got what I wanted, when two guys came in. They wandered around, talking loudly and being just the usual dumb-fucks. Then they proceeded standing randomly in the way. The pharmacist at my counter said to them, they should stand at the end of the queue like everybody else and they were like "What?! We?! Ooooooh..." Holy shit, like they had never been in a freaking store before. Jeez.
The pharmacist took like forever to sell me my stuff. And off I was.
Did I forget to tell you something? No, I didn't. She did. Ususally they say "get well", because they're pharmacists and all. No, not there. Thanks for nothing! "We don't have to be polite to our customers, because WE are the pharmacy in the central station and the customers come to us anyway. We're the last hope for all the poor travelers and all those who didn't make it to the other pharmacies before they close, so WHAT!"

God, I hate being sick.

Sunday, August 28, 2011


Due to some issues concerning the stupid fact that first-graders started school later than all the other pupils this year, I spent a week of semi-summer with Kaoru visiting my family. Time was spent mostly by us biking around taking advantage of the nice weather. Sometimes we lent a bike for Kaoru from the neighbours (thank you!) and other times she just sat on my bike's carrier and I did all the work, while she shouted with glee about the speed and every bump. I still don't understand the fun in riding over bumps, but I must have been missing out on something. It's certainly the reason why my life doesn't make any sense and is just living in the moment. I hate bumps in the street.
We visited every playground in my hometown that I could remember and Kaoru did her best in climbing up these red new climbing frames made of tows.

Yes, I do in fact encourage the peace sign. I think it's so cute. Plus it matched her proud moment of success.

We met two cute boys her age at said playground and within minutes Kaoru bossed them around and they did everything she said. Just how does she do that? Gotta learn from her. She's a real master.

Other days were spent biking through the wonderful landscape that was my homeland and that I love so much. It's so sad people there are mostly grumpy and unfriendly and make you want to either leave or run amok. Why don't the people just match the landscape? Well, can't have everything, I guess.
We even spent time at a beach, building huge mud castles and swimming in the freaking cold lake. After swimming we bought ice-cream. We all know those cones and we all know that, if you're not fast enough, it will drip through the tip. My father was unwrapping Kaoru's ice-cream for her and the following happened.
Me: "Don't unwrap it totally. Just leave a bit of it on there for safety."
He just unwrapped it.
Me grabbed the paper and did what I intended, grumbling: "Just why am I talking to you..."
Ice-cream-lady: "Those are the men. They never want to use safety."
--- Okay, maybe not all the people are grumpy.

The nights weren't as much fun since I had to share a bed with Kaoru and she kicked me awake repeatedly. She dreamt so vividly and loudly, I could hardly sleep at all. Dark circles follwed. I spare you a picture.
During my sleepless nights I had a lot of time to think about Certain Someone and reached the decision that I couldn't take any more. So if anyone here was already his fan... I'm sorry for you guys. His guest appearences on this blog will stay very limited.

What was really astounding was my father. When I first told him about us girls visiting him for a week, he was totally against it. He opposed the idea vehemently. I've known my dad my whole life and therefore just repeated the same idea to him a week later and he wasn't as opposed anymore. By the time we actually wanted to come he was okay with it, but wanted to state some things clearly. "I will not do anything for you two. I will not cook or think up any program what to do all day. I still think this is not a good idea." I agreed, the work would be all mine. For his opinion about this trip I didn't give a shit. I just knew it was going to be nice. I would make sure of that, if necessary.
Turned out to be totally different. He cooked for us, he bought us ice-cream, he had a program for each day (and I only had to fill the breaks), he tried to interact with Kaoru a lot and when we left, he told us "It was nice that you've been here" and hugged Kaoru tightly.
On the last day we didn't have time for a real lunch for we had to leave early to catch our train. My father told me "You thought up this leaving-early-thing and you will get a lunch for Kaoru. I will do nothing, you hear me? Nuthin." So I went to the next supermarket with Kaoru and let her choose a snack that would support her for the duration of our trip, since she would get a real meal at home. She liked that and off we went back to my father's house. Just as we arrived my father acts all insulted and tells me the following: "Why did you buy something? I had planned to make soup for all of us and you just reject it without even telling me." WTF! Talk about being skittish.
Maybe he's getting old... it's about time with almost 70.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Things I like

Giving presents to the kids.
Since they're no such spoilt brats that it wouldn't be fun to give them stuff, I love to give them new stuff. They are really cute kiddies who enjoy getting new things and show it in a way that makes me melt a little bit inside.

A few days ago they finally returned from their grandparents where they spent the whole (nonexistent) summer. They both had grown as children usually tend to if nourished properly. So they needed new clothes. Especially the girl, who I shall codename Kaoru from now on, because of 2 Cor 2:15 and because she made noises about wanting to be a woman priest when she's a grown-up. Maybe this is not as far away as I thought: She'd grown like 6 or 7cm in about 6 weeks! Where is the little girl I remembered?
The big brother did grow too, but not a much as she did as to give her the opportunity to keep up with him. I shall codename him Yuuki from now on, because Certain Someone thinks he is just like Yuuki from the jdorama Abarenbo Mama. And he's right.

Well. There were still boxes sitting in the basement with used-but-still-nice clothes Certain Someone received as gifts for the kids and these boxes were impatiently waiting, twitching every now and then as if they were asking when the kids finally will have grown. Now their time had come and an exited Kaoru and an hyper Yuuki carried two heavy boxes upstairs. I have to admit, that those boxes in general contain a lot more girl's clothes than boy's, since Certain Someone received the most from a family with two daughters. I was kinda waiting for disappointment on Yuuki's side therefore. But he was in a really good mood and even though there wasn't a lot for him in the box, he still enjoyed himself, so all was fine. A bit more than fine even.
He got a warm vest and a warm jacket and prodeeded to wear both over another and then went to the kids' room giggling. As he came back, he also wore his snow-pants and just looked like an astronaut. Really, all he was missing was a helmet! I cracked me up and as we were all laughing he enjoyed the attention. Cute boy. Often enough I'm just stressed out by his nonsense, but this one was delicious!
Kaoru got a lot more out of her box. A light jacket, two sweat-jackets, a t-shirt and a shitload of pants. She tried everything on and was delighted by all of it. Like jumping around squeaking "Look! I got this! I can wear it now!" She was really happy, insisted to keep the new clothes on and it was fun to watch.

I'm also glad to report that she successfully left the everything-has-to-be-pink zone. Finally! I don't have anything particular against pink, but when everything must be pink it just pisses me off and gives me eye cancer. Yesterday she accepted all the clothes in all colours, even the black sweat jacket with dark purple somethings on it! Ah, I'm so proud of her!

Even though it was work (getting the new clothes unpacked, putting away the old ones, having my ears ring from all the squeaking) it was a lot of fun and I really enjoyed it. Time with the kids can be so rewarding even though it's hard work, too.

Monday, August 08, 2011


The most beautiful city in the world is a twin city of Hiroshima. Therefore we have always some Japanese events going on and lots of people of all ages involved in them. So Hiroshima-Day was a big thing with stuff going on all day.
At 8 in the morning there was a commemoration in a bombed-out church which is a memorial for WWII.
The mayor of the most beautiful city in the world was there and he gave a very good speech. The Protestant church's local superintendent was there and gave a horrible, horrible speech. It was so horrible that I'm still disgusted now, two days later. Her speech didn't have a golden thread, a real beginning or a real ending. It was so horrible, that after she stepped away from the microphone, nobody clapped cuz we were all stunned in utter disbelief that she was even allowed to talk at this event. Aside from the bad style of her speech she also tried to use Japanese words, since it was a Japan-related event and she felt obligated to do so. Nevermind that the mayor had done well without it. I think I might never heard someone talk in foreign tongues who was this incapable of doing so. Speaking Japanese with German pronouciation sounds horrible enough (and ridiculous), but it was even worse than that. She talked about folding cranes with the oh-so-famous Japanese technique "Origamu".
Man, it was awful.
I doubt the mayor would have done a better job with Japanese, but I guess that's why he was so wise not to try.
Well, after her horrible speech (and some polite clapping from the confused audience), both of them rang the Hiroshima-memorial-bell three times exactly on the time when the bomb fell 66 years ago. Bong! Bong! Bong!
Such things make me shiver. The time it took them to ring the bell three times was enough time 66 years ago to make all hell break lose in Hiroshima.
Then they laid down a huge wreath with white and red flowers.
This was all supposed to be happening in silence and mostly did so if not for those three old men standing in the crowd behind me, who were talking all. the. fucking. time. Not even just talking and showing disrespect, but also exchanging business cards. Seriously guys, WHAT THE FUCK!? Why did they even come? I was about to hiss at them, but then restrained myself thinking it would show even more disrespect for the occasion to start up a fight.
Kids from a nearby summercamp from the YMCA laid down 1000 paper-cranes next to the wreath and it looked awesome! Do you know how much one thousand paper-cranes is?! It's a huge pile, huge, I tell you! What followed then was a Japanese tea ceremony, which bored me out of my skull. Yes, I'm interested in Japan. Still it doesn't mean I like everything from there. The ceremony was long and boring and just very long in general. Maybe it's because I detest green tea, so I just cannot bring myself to honour the effort to produce such a distasteful brew. Then it was over and we all went home.

During the day there were more events, but since I wasn't there, I won't tell you.

In the evening there was a Hiroshima-movie to be shown in the townhall. For the sake of being in good company, I called my friend Akane, who teaches me Japanese and I teach her German in return, if she wanted to join me. She's a very nice woman and I like her a lot. She was interested in it (she had forgotten it was Hiroshima-Day and was kinda shocked about that) and so we met there. Reaching the townhall proved to be very difficult though. The blogs in my blogroll tell me that other people are experiencing a hot, hot summer. I'm very jealous, because we didn't have summer so far. Sometimes there were a few days, which could have counted as a nice beginning for spring, but real summer remains to be unseen this year. And on this evening it rained like it will never rain again! Even though it was still supposed to be bright outside, it was dark as night. I ran through the rain with my umbrella and still got soaked. Akane had a longer way and had to wait at traffic lights and wasn't too happy either. Needless to say there were very few people at the movie.

The movie. I had tried looking the content up online, but couldn't find anything. Well, turns out that words couldn't have described what we saw. I never knew so many videos existed from the aftermath of the bomb. They showed all the cruelty and all the pain. It was really hard. Especially hard it was for Akane. For me this is still far away, but for her these are her own people. It's a town that she visited. She did not look at the screen all the time and I tried to comfort her the little I could. We were a bit relieved when the movie was over.

At the townhall we met a young woman, who was all over Japan. You know these people. Everything from Japan is great for them. The people are great! The culture is great! The food is great! The rainy season is great! I bet they even like green tea. This woman actually complained about our German rain and proceeded to talk about the wonderful rainy season in Japan. Make up your mind, girl! Do you like rain or not? She told us about her stays in Japan, her Japanese ex-boyfriend and her work in a German-Japanese exchange program. She was all agitated talking about Japan, but when I asked her questions about her life here she acted like it was all so boring and not worth talking about. Well, I bet it is!
Anyways... she was nice enough and had a camera and made cool pictures of us setting out paperlanterns after the movie at the pond behind the townhall. We promised to meet again and who knows. Maybe she has a life in Germany. I hope, she has. It's hard work to meet with people who don't have a life.

I will upload a paperlantern-picture once I receive them from her. Which I did.
Luckily the rain and wind stopped just in time for the paperlanterns and it was wonderful. Akane told us the spooky story about the lanterns: They are the souls of the dead who come to visit. Whaaa~ I'd rather not have the dead visiting me. To her, it didn't sound spooky at all though.

Hiroshima-Day made me realize again how thankful I can be. And I am indeed. I'm thankful I don't have to experience a war or an atom-bomb or hunger or wounds that don't heal. I'm thankful I live a peaceful life and that events like the Hiroshima-Day show me that my problems are so teeny. It makes me feel a lot lighter, knowing I don't have real worries. It even makes me be thankful that I can worry about little things.
So I'm also thankful that this day the rain stopped to every event outside that I attended even though the weather forecast didn't give any reason for hope.
And I'm thankful that meeting this woman had proved to me that I'm not Japan-crazy. Phew.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

I've won something

Veltins, some german beer-brand, has a new promotion going on. You have to buy loooots of beer and always look into the bottle cap for a code. You can win loads of stuff like cars, magazines and whatnot. I want a car.
There is just this teeny-tiny problem: I don't drink beer. I hate Veltins with a passion, because it's icky and beer in general makes my tummy hurt. So no way I'm gonna buy loooots of beer.
BUT in Germany there is actually a law for promotions like that. It's really funny. Here it comes: The law says, that there has to be the possibility to participate without actually buying the product!! It so beats the purpose of the whole thing, but it's the law. (Germany is kinda weird, huh? A law for effing everything!)
I wonder, if there is a state office controlling these things. That would be a dream of a job... just zapping through ALL the promotions and contests to find the required loophole. And of course trying it out (while you're at it anyway) and winning loads of stuff.
So Michelle poked around at the Veltins-website and found it, hidden in a corner: the button for How To Participate Without Buying Anything. The button was so ashamed, it didn't know what to do about itself. It was ever so small and hidden in the corner, where really nobody would look and still I found it. ^^
I had to write them a postcard and they would send me bottle caps. Today they arrived.
Twenty-four bottle caps! 24!!
With a nice, polite letter. They wish me luck and tell me ever so kindly, that I can order the next 24 bottle caps in 14 days.
Now, who would actually drink 24 bottles of beer in 14 days?! Okay, maybe I'm just not a big fan of beer, but I really think you must have a problem with alcohol, if you make it to 24 bottles in two weeks. I guess the stinky guys, who always sit in front of our supermarkets, wouldn't have any problem with that.

One of the bottle caps made me a very giddy winner of three magazines. The other 23 were just confirmation, that they meant it well with me, I guess. But whatever: I was really slap-happy, jumping around, exclaiming "I've won something, I've won something" over and over again. Hey, you gotta be happy, when you're the winner of the day.

I wonder, what I will do, when I win the car then. Maybe sit in front of the supermarket with all the other winners.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Fever on a cemetery

I've been having a fever these past few days. I heard people grumble about the Japanese making a big fuss about a little fever. Especially in doramas, where everybody with a fever faints on the street (or at least this happened in My Girl). But I can totally understand that. I always feel so poorly with a fever, that I, living in a country without such a japanese attitude, wish someone would make a big fuss about me.

To get out of my misery I got out for a walk. There is a beautiful cemetery around here. It's not used anymore and feels more like a very calm park. There a benches all over the place and today I was the only person there. It was very relaxing. But I still have the fever. Meh.

This is a fountain on the cemetery, erected in 1884. I'm always impressed by such old, still working things. Even though it's turned off most of the time for money issues.

What I found cute was, that a child obviously had been drawing there and forgot her pencil. How am I so sure, it was a her? It's a pink pencil.

Sorry for the crappy pictures. But at least I managed to upload them. No, I'm not proud of myself. Not even a little bit.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011


Inspired by Illahee's blog I will vent about these little monsters today.
When I grew up, in the summer we used to eat our meals outside on our terrace in the garden. Wasps were always there. There was always a wasps' nest in the neighbourhood. We hated them swirring around our faces and then sitting on our meals. They really cut off little pieces and brought them back to their nest!
Don't they look dangerous, once you take a closer look? They can sting and bite! I've never been stung, but bitten. Ouch.

I learned as a child, how wasps work: First they send out scouts, who fly around the area to find prey (in this case human's meals) and once they found it, they try it a bit (flying close, sitting down, maybe collecting a sample), remember the place and fly back to the nest to call for reinforcement. Then they all come! The scouts obviously couldn't be allowed to return to their nest!
My family doesn't like to spray poison all over, especially, when you have to fear to also breathe it in and probably eat it with you meal. Ugh. But the wasps were intolerable. It took a lot of discipline to not wave about yourself constantly. A solution was needed.
We became very skilled in killing wasps.
Whenever they sat down, they sat down for the last time in their lifes. We captured them with glasses or slew them with the points of our knifes. The point-knife-method is very fast. (The knife is not used for cutting, but for beating.)
My father even was so fearless to give a flying wasps a smack, so the poor thing fell on the table, wondering what happened and then using the point-knife-method. I never dared that...

My mother said, she couldn't stand the constant hunting at the table and introduced a trap. A glass, half-full with sugary water. The wasps then want to drink from it, fall in and... drown. Wasps drown slowly and my father and I rose a stink about the stupid trap. We preferred the hunting and our argument convinced my mother, too: We didn't want to see the agony of those poor things for endless minutes. Didn't want to make them suffer, possibly yelping for help to their fellows in wasp-language. We just wanted to eat in peace and didn't find any sadistic pleasure in making wasps suffer unnecessarily. No more traps.

Yesterday I took a test (ugh) and presented myself a meal in a cafe as a reward. And once I had my meal, the wasps were practically everywhere. I rarely see wasps in the middle of the city, but they were there! Do you know that horrible feeling when they whirr around your head? I killed four wasps during my meal, much to the amusement of an old lady who was sitting at the next table. Whenever I had killed one again, it seemed to give her pleasure. ^^ Maybe she has been stung once. The waiter seemed to be really sad for "the poor animals", though.
The remaining wasps I had scared off after four killings and could eat in peace.

Nowadays there are no wasps in the neigbourhood of my childhood's house. Maybe the neighbours finally got the hang of it.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

The joy of shared flats

It's said, that we Germans are very good in being passive-agressive. Usually I think that prejudices are just stupid and wrong... but in this case it's so right! My roommate must have won a competition in this (without my knowledge sadly, would have loved to be there). I'm sure, she has a nice trophy in her room, sparkling wildly in the light of her terrarium.

Here's the story. So my beloved roommate had been given seven big stones as a present. For said terrarium. Well, not for this one, cuz it's just as big as one of those stones, but for the big one she bought, but hasn't put together yet. So, those stone she put in front of our apartment door. A huge pile of fucking stones, in the way for everbody who wants to go up the stairs. I mean, they wouldn't be in the way for me, but the lady upstairs is quite... er... wide and loaded with bags full of groceries I can imagine she would have found it inconvenient. So, being a person who thinks about others and being a person who doesn't want trouble with the neighbours, I told her to put those stones away. In her room, the basement, whatevar.
That was two months ago.
Then I got a letter from the property management complaining about the pile and ordering to make it disappear. I was expecting such a letter, but it still made me angry. I don't want to fight with them, so why does my roommate has to bring me in such a situation?!
She's never here, when I'm here and awake. She leaves either before I'm out of bed or looong after. So we actually see each other rarely. That's why I glued said letter to her door, with a post-it of the angry kind on it. At least it was angry, as in straightforward. "Get those stones away now!"
Next day I arrive home from work and the stones are gone. Woah! Fast! But glued to my door was said letter with said post-it and a great passive-aggressive note. It told me, that I surely must have been glad to receive such a letter, cuz it must have given me all the acknowledgement I needed. It also told me matter-of-factly, that my beloved could have gone without my post-it.

Do you know this site? http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/ I could have tons of those if I wouldn't always toss them after reading.

I'm used to this. I don't get livid anymore. Neither do I answer on paper, nor do I try to talk it all out with her. I tried both and it was all crushed. I'm just not as good as her in writing passive-aggressive notes. Mine always try to be nice and between the lines they seems to smile apologetically. So they were all defeated and I did never dare to send out more. I couldn't handle their cries of deadly defeat anymore. So I tried the "let's talk about this" and was bluntly told, that she's not interested in talking with me anyway. About anything. At all.

So, as always, I'll just try to forget all this and be glad about the accomplished task. The stones are gone. The property management won't drag me out of bed one cold night to beat me up with them as a punishment.

But the question remains in the back of my head. Why does all this have to happen?
I still remember some time ago, when had to wash huge amounts of laundry, because I didn't wash for some weeks. So after I had the first load done, I asked my beloved, if she's okay with me loading the mashine again or if she needs to use it. She said loud out "Yeah, it's fine." I then turned to get the stuff out of my room, just when she said under her breath "It's not like I always wash a lot. But just when I want to use it, you will instead." WTF! There I got angry and kinda yelled at her. I mean, I had just asked! If asking for her needs doesn't help, then what does?
The stories could continue endlessly. But this will be the end of it. For now. Until I have something new to report.

The good things:
First: I can blog it all out before I feel forced to sneak into her room at night and strangle her in her sleep.
Second: I still have another roommate who is much nicer and starting to be a real friend.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Everybody needs it!

A bit of venting, that is. Aaand a possibility to try out some english.
Since I usually let everything brood inside of me for a while until I explode on someone for very little reasons I thought it MIGHT be better, if I let everything out on a blog. That mentioned someone knows what I'm talking about. Maybe even with commenters who then vent on my venting. Sounds great, huh? So here I am.
Plus I really love to read blogs from other people. This whole blogging thing seems to be contagious.

Actually I wanted to start this with a good deep venting about my roommate. But this has to wait, because just creating a blog gave me enuff stuff to say.
First pissy thing was to find a title for this blog. Since I'm not really creative, it took me quite some time to come up with a nice idea. It was already taken. So it took me even more time to think up something else. It was also taken! Rinse and repeat. But the worst part: They were all taken by dead blogs!! No posts in at least 5 years!
So in desperate search for inspiration I clicked through some random blogs. And boy, what did I see! Of course those blogs with the last 3 posts being apologies for not blogging and promises to change for the better with those posts being from 2009. Yeah, boring. But the real find was a blog about a family of five. Cute kids, nice looking wife. The wife is totally and absolutely in love with her husband. "How nice", I thought. Then I saw the husband in some pics and started to be very jealous. He is so fat, you would not believe it! The pic was (of course) decorated with loads of pink hearts. That must be relaxing to be worshipped by your spouse and never have to worry about keeping fit! Hah! That's the trick! I'm so jealous! I shall go and sulk now for I have started off into my relationship from the wrong spot. Probably too late to change now.

So there. I'm a blogger.