I need a 48 hour day, a box of tissues and a sleeping pill

Outside the rain is pouring, inside I'm three inches away from a complete mental breakdown. I spent the whole morning in the University, getting aware of my responsibilites for my new job as a scientific researcher. Oh my god. I always knew that Universties tend to be chaotic employers, and never get it right in the beginning, but that was just too much for me. Office? Still under construction. Keys? The guy responsible broke his arm, come back in three weeks. Desk? Oh, we forgot to order your desk. Computer? Well, there is a laptop, techincally, but it might take a month. Or two. Student research asisstant doing my "dirty" work (copying books, organising the library loans ect.)? Too expensive. But you can use soneone who already works for the faculty, won't that be possible? No, it's not! The student research assistant for the professor I'm now attached to happens to be Cathy, my very best friend. And no, I will not ask her to do these things for me, or else I'll need a new best friend. Payment? Well, here's a bunch of things noone will explain you - fill in these forms, send them back and we MIGHT pay you one day.

Oh, and while we're at it: Couldn't you teach some undergrad classes in a field completely unrelated to your own subject, in which you have no experience or intrest, for zero money? It would be good experience! And, yeah, we nearly forgot that.. you will organise this scientific project worth tenthousands of bucks. You know how to handle large quantities of money, do you?

For god's sake, people! I'm a scientist, not a manager. But I guess sometimes "no" is not an option. Although I will NOT teach undergrad classes this year. No. I won't. Not going to happen.

If you excuse me now, I need to go and have a nervous breakdown and cry for three hours in my kitchen. Afterwards I will return to my desk and sob in my dusty books. Then I might eat a cake or drown myself in the kitchen sink or the water tank of the coffee maker. Thanks for listening, hope you have a wonderful day.

((((Fayet))))

Go have yourself a nice cry if you need to; sometimes, as much as I detest crying fits, a weepy session is necessary. Make a nice cup of tea, sip it slowly, and remember that new things often seem completely overwhelming and unmanageable at first. If you take it bite by bite--list each problem, then write out potential solutions--the situation might seem a lot less horrible than it does right now. Hugs!

Whirling silently in space

Ahw. Thank you for your support, dear celestia! I really needed that..

Today was better. A lot, actually. I had a long talk with the faculty administrator, and he answered all my questions and just helped me a ton. Phew. He also showed me my new office, which has a beautiful view over the Black Forest Hills, and a window I can climp out onto a balcony. It's a bit small, and I'll share it for the next two month with a Professor who will leave and teach in Oxford for the next year (Isn't that coincidence, celestia??), and then someone else comes to share with me. I already know her, and she got the job Cathy didn't - and I feel so bad for that. The girl, Rosie, will work for Prof G now, my old Prof, and when G asked me if I wanted to work for her I had to decline, but suggested Cathy instead.. but now she picked Rosie, and I really hope it isn't my fault. Rosie is alright, but I don't know her too well, as she's a bit on the shy side. We'll see.

I worked so much today. I finished reading one very obscure text in Middle High German, and started reading another one, and I'm fed up with the passion of Christ for today I'd say. Sorry, Jesus, not your fault.

Tomorrow will be better: Research for the job in the morning, lunch with a bunch of girls, then coffee, then research for my Ph.D. diss in the afternoon. Much better. I'm logning to dive into my own work, after all these Middle High German texts.. I'm just not a scholar of literature.

Oh, and the teaching: The faculty administrator asked me again if I wanted to teach, and I declined again, although he would have offered money. But then he proposed that I should think about it for a few month, and when I pointed out that he is the administrator for the school of language and literature, and that I'm an historian he said that I could do something interdiciplinary with the undergrads, maybe even a joint class with Prof H (my boss)? Well. We'll see. (Actually, the thought of teaching kind of freaks me out. Ugh. I need to work on that.)

And I'm tired. And hungry. But I feel like I'm putting on weight (wtf?) and I don't want that to happen. So no more food today. No.

Lyrics of the day

Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that's turning
Running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind.

Sting - Windmills of your mind

Forgive me for using a pop song.. I had too much literature today.

The voices tell me that you lie to me

You see that title? Yes. That's what Sue told me today. Yes. Of course, I did freak out.

I just left the library when Sue suddenly appeared of out nowhere and silently stared at me. I asked her "Can I help you?", not using a particular friendly voice.. and she just nodded, with tears in her eyes. I sayed goodbye to my work day and gave her ten minutes.

And after tons of babbeling she said those words. WHAT THE HELL? Voices? In her head? She then kept on saying weird things, and I interrupted her and the following conversation occured:

Sue: .. G said this and that, and I know they are talking about me! G! And the men! The bad ones.

Me: Sue, it's not real. It's just all in your head.

Sue: (turning towards me) Oh. Are you real?

Me: *freakes out* Of course I'm real.

Sue: The voices tell me that you lie to me.

I mean, did you ever have someone looking at you saying "Well, but you aren't in my head, are you?" Uhm.. (anyone seen "A beautiful mind"?) Oh my god. For the fraction of a second I was like "Of course. Wait, I am real, right?" It's insane how stuff like that messes with your mind. Afterwards I tried to reach Cathy, but she was minute taker for an exam and not in her office. Because Sue had told me that the voices in her head use the voice of Prof G, so I knocked on her door and then procceded to freak out on her couch (G probably has the coolest office on earth, great couch, great coffee-maker). Then I called Alex and freaked out again. Now there's no more time to work in my thesis left today, because I need to run off and take one of the three ballet classes that are being held this summer.

Oh my god.

(What is reality?)

Haha, I had to laugh when I read the last line of the above entry, because I have an answer for you! Or rather, Virginia Woolf does. I put this in my DDN bio and on my Facebook profile months ago because I think it's a fabulous quote:

"What is meant by 'reality'? It would seem to be something very erratic, very undependable--now to be found in a dusty road, now in a scrap of newspaper in the street, now a daffodil in the sun. It lights up a group in a room and stamps some casual saying. It overwhelms one walking home beneath the stars and makes the silent world more real than the world of speech--and then there it is again in an omnibus in the uproar of Piccadilly. Sometimes, too, it seems to dwell in shapes too far away for us to discern what their nature is. But whatever it touches, it fixes and makes permanent. That is what remains over when the skin of the day has been cast into the hedge; that is what is left of past time and of our loves and hates."
-Virginia Woolf, 'A Room of One's Own'

I definitely think you should consider teaching an interdisciplinary course. Obviously I'm a bit biased, as I'm about to embark on an interdisciplinary course and I happen to be of the opinion that history--especially medieval history--is, by its very nature, interdisciplinary. However, it would give you some teaching experience and extra money, both of which are undeniably helpful for PhD students. If you took your colleague up on his offer to co-teach, that would be an extra bonus because not only would it alleviate some of your teaching responsibilities, but it'd also give you the opportunity to have an adviser/guiding teacher of sorts. I don't know about you, but I can't think of many better ways to take a baby step into your inevitable teaching career!

Let them eat cake

I've spent quite some time pondering what celestia wrote.. and I really like the Virgina Woolf quote. I think I need to get my hands on that book. I haven't yet made up my mind about the teaching part, but they gave me several month, and it's too late anyways to the next two semesters. I'm not too sad about this, because I don't have time for that right now.

Sunday! I'm invited to a BBQ party later today, and decided to make a cake to bring. Then I decided to add cherries. And then I colored it pink and decorated it with white stripes. We'll see what the guys say about that! But I think it's going to be nice: We'll meet at the house of Callies parents, who live in the hills above Southern town, in the middle of nowhere. Callie organised a ride for me, so I'll be standing in front of the municipal theater later today, waiting for a black car to come and pick me and my cake up. Hopefully I'll be picked up at all.

My new cellphone arrive in the mail on Friday! It's great to be able to text again, although I should have spent some more money on the phone, maybe - I picked the cheapest phone Amazon had on sale. Of coruse a more expensive phone would have been of better quality, but since I tend to loose my phone every two years it's not really worth investing much money there. Maybe I could spend the saved money on a new book bag..? Since I started to carry my MacBook around with me I realized how small my book bag really is. I love it so much, but the broken zipper starts to bug me and the size really is an issue right now. Maybe I'll buy the satchel I showed you above, or go and find something new. First payday will be in a few weeks, money galore!

Or something along these lines.

It seems that summer has finally come to an end. How sad. It's only august, but the hottest days are over. Nowadays the sun does shine, but it doesn't heat up the streets as it used to. Soon the leaves will colour, and fall will come. And then it will be winter, and I'll be freezing on my way to the university, and sit in overheated streetcars and watch the snow covered streets pass by.. and my poor bike will be wet and start to rust. Even thinking about it makes me sad and melancholic, so I'll just stop.

And leave you with something fun, because it's sunda, and you shouldn't work today anyways.

Sunday Fun

The english history is long, and full of kings and queens.. but see for yourself. I give you: Charles II, the kind who brought back partying..

A room with a view

It took some time, but I'm finally getting used to my new office. The view is terrific - I can see the dark hills of the Black Forest, the old roofs of the town with it's church towers, and then the blue sky, the clouds, and if I'm lucky a vision of France at the horizon. Beautiful. And if I'm brave I can climp out of my window and onto a balcony that runs along the whole bank of windows. I can't be seen from beyond, and can enjoy my view in the open air. It's a great place to read and for quick coffee breaks. And I might even meet G, who smokes sometimes and climbs out of her window as well.

I haven't hear anything from Sue in a while now, but managed to scare my Mom, who is now afraid that I'll be found dead in my office one day with a bullet in my head, because the voices in Sue's mind told her to kill me. I hope that's just a nightmare that won't come true...

Great news: My boss, H, told me that I won't be able to travel to a conference in September, which means that I won't see Alex at all next month and won't be able to visit Cathy and won't be able to go to antoher conference that I'd be personally intrested in. No! But then she offered me something she called "adequate compensation": Together with one of our professors I'll travel to Oxford next year and hold a lecture at an internationa graduate conference. WOHOW! So I'll be in England next March. The only downside is that Alex' birthday is in March, and I hope I won't be traveling on his birthday.. on the other hand he told me that he wouldn't mind, and that we could meet in London and celebrate there. That would be amazing.. Oxford, here I come! (Hey celestia, wanna meet me for tea? ) Although the thought of holding a lecture in front of the combined faculties of three major medieval departments of three major european universites makes my knees go weak..

Now I shall go to work. The computer in my office is still not working, and I took the MacBook with me.. otherwise no Internet, and I need to do some online research today. Why can't someone just tell me how I can hook this computer up to the internet? Because, my dear, your working at a university. It's just not like in the real world here..

Keep your fingers crossed that I'll get rid of my tenosynovitis before it gets chronic.. I got my right hand wrapped up again. Maybe I should buy s splint for my poor wrist.

The darndest things happen at universities - Episode I

Five minutes ago. I was sitting peacefully at my desk, printing out essays I want to read and generally listing books I need to look at while browing databases. My door is open, as it's pretty hot outside, and a nice breeze is coming in through the window. I hear men working in the hallway, putting furniture into the office next door. One comes in, asks me if he can use my phone, does so, and vanishes again.

Suddenly three of these guys walk into my office, and without even acknowleding me grab my big printer.

Me: "NO! Excuse me - but you're not taking my printer."
Guys: "Sory, Ma'm, but yes, we will."
- at this point I panicked: Getting a new printer and then getting it hocked up to the intranet and onto my computer would take WEEKS, if not month -
Me: "No! I need to work! What do you want to do with my printer?"
Guys: "How long has this printer been in this office?"
Me: "Three days?"
Guys: "We need to take it back."
Me: ...???...

In the end it turned out that they had been the guys moving the printer from it's old place to the new office - it belongs to the collegue with whom I share my office - and wanted to take it back, because they thought he'd move his office again. Sorry, guys.. but you don't touch my printer when I work!

As the title states: The darndest things happen at Universties.. stay tuned for the next episode!

Feelin' Good

Nothing in particular happend today - but I'm feeling good, and that's a major plus point for a day. Sure, I developed a major migrane last night and didn't sleep a lot, and now my back hurts.. but who cares. I'm feeling good. It's been a long day, and I got lots of things finished and done. I worked on my thesis, did some reading, ran around, had a delicious coffee with Callie, ate a grand sweet yeast danish (german speciality, also very popular in austria) with a soft juicy plum baked into, wrote something, read something, takled a bit with my officemate, talked with my boss, finished something.. And now I'm home, tired, and looking forward to have dinner with Ann and her boyfriend. He's bound to arrive soon, and Ann promised to cook for us.. great.

Only thing missing is Alex. I'll see him next monday, but I'm missing him a lot. Quite a lot. He writes me the most beautiful letters one can want, and they make me all fluffy and warm inside - but still.. it's just not the same. I wish we had a certain date at the horizon, a common goal, a place, a time - like we had before, when we knew that we'd move in together come next summer. Now it more about "Maybe in three years, when you're finished with the thesis, and the project is published, and.." But you can't rush time. Let's sit back, and see what happens, and be excited for the things we have now. For now let's just be happy and content, and love each other over the distance and write tearful love letters, many times a week. It is enough for now, it's got to be enough. Better times will come.

Poem of the day

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes
that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Jenny Joseph

Want! Vol. 2



This is the "Windy City Dress" from ModCloth.com. And how I want this dress.. although buying it online would be stupid, shipping would be freaking expensive (to Germany! From the US!), and there's no guarantee that it would even suit me.. but I want it. Maybe for christmas. Maybe.

A quote for a day I

To acquire the habit of reading is to construct for yourself a refuge from almost all the miseries of life.

- W. Somerset Mougham

Have a terrific day!

Storytime

How to scare your flatmate to death

I was invited at a friends place last night. I came home late, after spending a wonderful evening full of food and laughter and music and stories, and found the flat dark, with the exception of Ann's room. Her door was open and I could hear the TV and see her lying on her settee, asleep. I turned on the light in the hallway, and went into my dark room to undress. While I was wriggeling into my pyjama I heard her getting up and going to the bathroom. I made some noise to let her know I was home, and heard her answering. She turned off the light in the hallway, so I thought that maybe she had a headache and wanted darkness, or something.

So I left my room, met her in the hallway, said "Hi Ann" and scared her to death. Obviously she hadn't been aware of me being home, and thought I was a burglar, because she started to scream on top of her lungs, jump at me and lash about. I jumped backwards, found the lights, turned them on and screamd "IT'S ME, calm down!" But she was so shocked she hardly recognized me. After a few seconds of me talking to her to calm her down and apologizing she realized what had happend and had to sit on the floor for a few minutes. I nearly gave the poor girl a heart attack..

Lesson learned: Just because you are a light sleeper and realize immediately who is present in your flat and moves around it doesn't mean that anyone else is a light sleeper, too. Ann obviously isn't, and I'll make sure to make more obvious noises the next time - although I thought I had been pretty loud already. I'll stay clear of the hallway in any case - because that girl has a hell of a backhand! Thank god it didn't bruise.

Welcome to my weekend

Ahhhh.. do you feel it? Yes? It's in the air, isn't it?

Yes. It's SATURDAY. Thank god. The last week wasn't too horrible, but somehow nevertheless tiring. Now it's glorious saturday, and I'm wasting my time at the computer. The most things are already done: The library books are collected and sit in my office bookshelf, the white wine for tonight is in the fridge, the laundry on the laundry rack on the balcony, the flowers await their final destination.. Only the suitcase still begs for my attention and needs to be packed. And maybe I could hoover my bedroom. But for now I'm content staring into the grey sky outisde (rain? No rain? Can I ride my bike to my dinner date tonight? Or do I need to take the tramline?)listening to the first Norah Jones album (old, but still nice), enjoying the sight of the fresh linen on my bed. Now, a serious question: Is there anything better than fresh linen? The feeling of crawling into bed after a long day, smelling the fesh scent of clean cotton.. great. I already loved it when I was a small child.

And it's getting better. Did I say suitcase? I said suitcase. Tomorrow I'll be leaving Southern Town, spend the sunday with my parents (Dad will take Mom and me out for a splendid sunday brunch in Central City). Monday I'll continue my journey and will arrive in Harbour City in the evening, where Alex and me will celebrate the 100th birthday of his late grandmother with a three-course-dinner and watch the arrival of the Queen Mary II in the port. Glorious, yes? Oh, if I'm looking forwad to it? You bet.

While I was on my way to central farmers market this morning I was pondering the beauty of Southern Town. It's very old, with lots of medieval structures left, and draws tons of tourists. Usually I'm in a hurry and don't have eyes for those pretty houses and cobble streets, but today they caught my eye. I don't own a camera, but after returning from the farmers market with a basket full of books, wine, fresh fruits and flowers I found a picture showing not the street I pondered today, but a similar one. And with the image of a basket full flowers and delicious mirabelles I'll leave you to enjoy your very own Saturday. Have fun. Eat some fresh fruit, call your favourite girl friend and sing along to a soft song. Care for your flowers. Make your bed. And don't get wet!

See you next week, when I'll update from Harbour City.

Picture of the weekend

C-minor, Nr. 21 posthum.

It sits in the music room at your old home like a big black spot. It's got keys inside, white and black, but now it's covered with papers and books, and picture and memories. Someone asked you if you play an instrument, and you said "Sure, piano!", and they looked at your hands and said "Why, yes, your hands look like a pianists." Heirloom from my mom's dad, you'd answer, he was a pianist. But you haven't touched the keys in a while now and feel like a liar.

But then you have an hour to loose before your train leaves, and you're alone. And somehow it calls you, like it hasn't called you in a long time. You clear off the papers, wipe away the dust, and sit down. There's that old Bach, and your fingers stumble across the keyboard as if it was a new piece, and a difficult one. You decide for something easier and go through the papers. There's "Für Elise", as easy as a piece of music can be, but it used to be your favourite when you were twelve and dreamed of the keyboard at night. At first it's slow and painfully. But it gets better, and better, and you blame muscle memory. It feels good.

And then there's this big book of Chopin. You pick your favourite piece, a Nocturne in C-minor, posth., Nr. 21. It's difficult at first, Chopin is not "Für Elise", Chopin wants to be played right. You go back to the beginning. And back again. And then, suddenly, something happens.

It feels as if your hands had become younger. Smaller, maybe. As if they suddenly know their way again. The music flys through the open window, into the rain. It covers the hills wrapped in mist and clouds, it soars over the dark lump of wet forest around you. The whole village can hear you now, but it doesn't matter. The music continues, and it can't be you who plays like this. It's not your hands. It has to be your soul, taking flight once again. You're fifteen, a sulking teenanger at war with the world, and you sould needs the soothing words of Chopin. The C-minor is like a dream, like a boat rocking gently on a river. You remember being young and feeling lonley, and feeling too proud to cry or talk, and needing the piano to talk for you, and needing Chopin, and Beethoven, and maybe Bach and all those dead russians who cried too, when they were still alive. You remember hours spent at those very keys, black and ivory, now all dusty and worn out.

It stops. But you don't want it to stop, you want to continue listening to things that talked to you when you were young, and still had so many dreams. But they stay silent. It's not you who can revive them, it's the music. But there's a train you need to catch, and a life to return to. Closing the piano you make a promise to play everytime you can get your hands on the keys again. You make a promise to try and get the piano to your place. You wipe the dust away and smile. After all, you have the hands of a pianist. Not the talent, no. But the hands. And it's got to be enough. For you it certainly is.

You can listen to the Nocturne Nr. 21 c-minor posthum. here.

Happy at the harbour

Returning to a place where you were very happy once holds great risk. There are basically two option: You either autmatically snap back into the state of happiness you experienced there, or you crash and burn.

I choose the first option. Harbour City is as splendid as I remember it. Alex is just as awesome as I wanted him to be. The flat is just as dirty as I expected it, and everything went back to normal, combined with a heavy dose of romantic sappyness pretty soon. We did beautiful things to far: Having a dinner in homage to Alex' late grandmother, whose 100th birthday would have been on mondy. Shopping. Eating cake instead of dinner. Drinking coffee in hidden cafés. I went exploring on my own, walking for hours through Habour City. I spent a day in the local university library, searching for a book I need for my thesis. I found it (yay!).

We waved goodbye to the Queen Mary 2 on Monday:



I still am very fascinated with large ships, and in the last month I've seen quite a few while living so close to the harbour. But the Queen Mary 2 never fails to take my breath away. On Monday she left the harbour late at night and we were standing on a swimming dock, waiting for her. First we heard her horn, which is just as loud as the ship is big and honestly shakes the whole city. Then all the smaller ships answered her - a chorus of horns! The Cunard Line, under whose flag the Queen Mary 2 sails, always has a big firework set up when the ship leaves Harbour City - I've been wondering if they do that in other harbours as well? And then this huge glitterin giant of a ship comes around the corner, and it just takes your breath away. So many people were standing on the docks, waving and shouting "Happy Journey!", and the lucky ones on the ship were waving back. When you're standing on a swimming dock it feels like a skyscraper sails past you, and you have to look up into the sky to see the deck structures and people on board. It's very impressive, and you get the glimpse of an idea what people might have felt when the big steam ships were still sailing the seven seas. And because the Queen Mary 2 sails under the Cunard flag and is painted in the classical cunard style (black hulk, white deck structures) it looks like the Titanic, which sailed under the Cunard/White Star Line flag as well. You get an idea what it felt like to stand and watch the Titanic leave Southampton on her way to New York. I thought about all the dreams people used to have when a ship left the harbour - when the ship still was the only connection to the "New World", and leaving most of the time meant to never come back again - a fresh start in a new country, searching for your luck. Of course the people on the Queen Mary 2 simply go on a cruise, but still.. the feeling is there.

And this ship is huge. I mean, look at the picture! When I saw her for the first time coming into the harbour (which happend to be the day I celebrated my birthday) I stood on a building, she was still taller then that. Wohw.

Btw, I stole the picture here. You can find more pictures there, together with a german article about the ship. Harbour City is very proud that the Queen Mary 2 stops there, and you can always take tours and such. One day I'll manage to do that.. well, maybe I'll manage to go on a cruise on the ship itself. I asked Alex if he'd like that as well, and he answered "Sure, as soon as I'm too old to walk!". Hmm.. maybe he isn't as enthusiastic as I am?

Want! Vol. 3

Say hi to my new desk. Well, to the table that is bound to become my desk. Soon, my dear desk. Soon.



Design by Egon Eiermann, one of the most important architect and designer Germany had post WWII. I am a big fan of his designs, as I appreciate clear lines and good materials, and have a fierce hate for dust collectors and other kitchy things. My rooms are always on the edge of looking "empty". Ann was shocked when I showed her the desk, and really didn't like it: She said it was too brutal and too clean for her. But then she's more a "girly girl" than I am. For me this desk is perfect, and it's going to be the first big purchase I attempt to make from my university salary this christmas. I guess I will count down the days this year...

A quote for a day

You are afraid of it because it is stronger than you; you hate it because you are afraid of it; you love it because you cannot subdue it to your will. Only the unsubduable can be loved.

— Yevgeny Zamyatin (We)

What great things are you going to do today? I will take Alex out for a dinner at the restaurant of Tim Mälzer, who is the german version of Jamie Oliver. It's going to be an awesome evening. Hope yours will be just as great!

A reason why you don't want to become an academic

..because someone will send you an email while you're on vacation, demanding that you send in your project plans and CV immediately and take part in a conference your not prepared to go to. So you better start preparing. As of in, now. Oh, you're on vacation? Well, that's unfortunate. For you. Because you will start preparing. Now.

Ugh.

On a brighter note: Go to youtube and listen to the sequel of a "Very Potter Musical". Do it. Those guys are awesome. Check out "The coolest girl" and "No way" - awesome.

I really like your diary. I don't know what else to say, so I'll leave it at that.

*goes back to lurking in the shadows*

Dani

Oh! Oh! I'm so flattered. So damn flattered, actually. *blushes* Thank you. Great to know someone is besides celestia is reading this at all..

Uff

Okay. So now my "OMG that freaking conference is just around the corner" shock has been soothed by a good walk, some great pumpkin-apple-quiche with Alex and mindless shopping (without buying anything besides the new ballet flats I needed). Take a deep breath. Continue.

This is what I meant to post today..

If I were a boy

Deep in my heart I've always wanted to be a guy. Not in the "God, I was born in the wrong body sense". Nope. It's just that I'm not very good at being a woman. Or a girl, or whatever. I'm not for skirts, and bows, and frills (my ballet dancing is a well kept secret. And I'm not kidding you). I like to paint my fingernails to shock my envorionment once in a while. I dress sloppy (wrong: I dress immaculate every friggin day. I don't care about my clothing or their image too much.. but wrong shoes can kill me. A spot on my polo? Godness, I need to jump out of my window). My fashion doesn't really SAY something besides "jeans-and-a-polo". Well. I actually dressed as a guy for about three years when I was a teen. It wasn't supposed to mean anything. It was just that I hated girl clothing and all the fashion stuff that came with it. That was beneath me. Rebellion? Hell, yes. I went to an all-girls school.. 'nough said. (They threw me out when I was old enough. Kid you not. But let's not go there.. I always get too upset).

So, maybe I just love the stuff guys can wear. Really, men's clothing is so much nicer than girls clothing. I have the plan to once wear a ladies tuxedo (Yves Saint Laurent anyone?) if Alex will ever drag me to a black tie event (after nearly ten years of ballroom dancing I own no less than three ball gowns and hate them with a passion. I dread my wedding, because I will need to go through the "Why I hate wedding dresses" fight with everybody around me). So, if I were a guy? Well, I'd be..



Recently I found these beautiful pictures. I love the fashion, the textures. I love the arrogance these guys show. Look at his face!



Wohw. I actually wear lots of scarves like this, especially when I wear shirts. I'm working on the arrogance (no. Actually I eradiate arrogance if I don't watch out. Might have something to do with the fact that I'm rather tall and not very pretty)



Rawr. Love ths coats. Alex always starts to drool when he sees those pictures - he's a guy who could easily pull this off. Sadly lawyers aren't supposed to dress like this in the office. Shame, really. I'd really love to have his coat. And the gloves. although I already own very similar gloves. But you can never have enough gloves.

And just because he's the father of all of this..



Lord Byron. Just as impressing as his poetry, isn't he?

Here's the source of the pictures. There's more on there, go and check it out.

No diary post tomorrow (is this still a diary? I'd rather consider it a diary-blog-thing). Alex and me are going on a road trip up to the coast, on an island and spent the whole day sitting in the sand staring at the horizon. I need that now.

To the sea

Time is flying. Alex and me are celebrating our fourth anniversary today. I can't believe it's been four years already! I've known him much longer (it's almost eight years now), and can't imagine my life without him.

We started our celebration yesterday with a beautiful trip to the sea. It took us more than three hours per train to reach an island just off the coast of Germany, in the North Sea. We spent the whole day walking on the beach, having a quick lunch and a long and lazy afternoon tea with the ocean in full view. The weather was good - that means it didn't rain much. The storm was strong and the sea wasn't very warm (all in all we had about 20 C). Isn't there something about the wind by the sea that makes you feel clean afterwards, even when your hair is completely messed up and you got salt on your skin? It blows away all your sorrow and worries, and takes them out into the wide sky above the ocean. I felt so lifted afterwards, and very happy. The beach brought back childhood memories, as it was exactly this island my parents used to go to for vacations (actually they still go there, about once every two years, in addition to their journeys to far away countries), and I have so many pictures in my head about it. It brought back the comfort and happiness of days long gone… I think Alex enjoyed it a lot as well. He even went swimming, and was admired by many people on the beach for diving into the cold grey mass the north sea was yesterday. He said it wasn't very cold, but I don't believe him - I certainly wasn't too warm, and woke up this morning with a cold. But it was worth it.

And look what we saw! It's a young seal. who rested on the beach after a good swim. I've never seen one of those before, although they are pretty common around this island - they just usually don't end up at beaches used by humans. Isn't he the prettiest little guy? Look at his huge black beady eyes




And here's one last picture: just the sea, and the wind, and the sky.



Bring me that horizon.

Sunday fun

And because it's sunday, and you shoudn't work today anyway.. here's some sunday fun:

Why I hate Cobwebs. Oh so true.

Tell me that you'll wait for me

Why is it that suitcases are never big enough, but always too heavy? How come that train journeys are always packed with kids, and never seem to end? Kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you'll wait for me...

After six hours on a "high speed" train (ugh) I'm back in Southern Town. Suprisingly it's summer here. Of course it would be, isn't it always summer when you have so much work to do, and never when you're free?

My flat is covered in debris. I haven't yet managed to store everything back to it's rightful place, and since I brought so much stuff from Alex' flat in Harbour City I need to find new places for things. Ann is on vacation for two more weeks, and that means so much me-time. No wait - that means me living in my office. I brought good coffee from a tiny roasting shop in Harbour City and plan to live on it. And I just had the most perfect cinnamon danish for dinner, which counts probably as soul food or something. Seeing that my fridge is empty and I really don't feel like going shopping right now it have to enough for today. Lunch somehow got lost in translation. Food is overrated, or something.

Alex cried when I left. I didn't, but oh, how I remember sobbing hysterically through a one hour flight from RDU to D.C. when I left Duke for good... Boys tears always break my heart. Give me a crying girl, and I'm totally okay with that and hardly take it seriously - but Alex in tears? I could have burned my train ticket right there and then. But there's my bursting inbox, my fully booked next week, that conference! I just couldn't stay. I wanted to. So much. Long-distance IS hard, on everybody, and it takes so much to make it work... But seeing my tough lawyer boy to be so desperate to have fluffy me near him hurt. "You make everything okay." No, leaving is not fun. Never.

Coming back isn't either. So much laundry. Dead plants (oups). Rotten things in my fridge. And work. Oh god, so much work.

Poem of the day

Don't Go Far Off, Not Even For A Day

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Pablo Neruda

I'd like to..



We all want to do that, don't we?

If you're in a car, and the rain is pouring down, and there's a very wet girl on a bike next to you waiting at a red traffic light.. don't laugh. Life is hard enough on a wet biker already. And you never know, you might be cussed out in three to four different languages, and if that biker is me I might curse your family down to the last branch in latin. And trust me, those old curses work.. the monk knew what they did when the wrote them down. So, don't laugh at the wet biker. It's better for her, you, and your family.

Picture Source