I would like to add as a diclaiminer that this blog is not intended to be "gossipy," however it might be perceived as such due to the fact that I use anecdotal stories of some of the program members as springboards for my thoughts. But you will notice I make mention of no names. There might be some details that could clue you in, but I am very careful only to give the barest of facts. I don't intend to stir trouble; I intend to ask questions and to get others to think. I, however, do not aspire to be Socrates. I like friends. I like aquaintances... sometimes anyway (which is why they aren't full-fledged friends, right?).
So there I was. On a the 4 bus, trying to get myself back home while trying to concentrate on readind Richard Dawkins' book The Selfish Gene (sidenote: he is really very talented. Even if you don't get genetics or biology, he is very well-versed in his analogies. Even I look at things from a whole new perspective... I'll be reading The God Delusion next. I'll be sure to let you know how that goes, klar). Unfortunately, I was having little success. Somehow the people riding with me (kids on the program who live in the same dorm complex as I... not the usual bunch I would talk to, but they're nice enough. To be honest, all the kids on the program are nice. I wonder why they're here, but nice is good enough) and I, of course, overheard their conversation.
Two girls and a guy; girls are behind me, guy is facing me (the bus seats do face the rear here at times). All of them have somehow gotten onto the topic of jobs, careers... whatnot. Life after school. Conversation is as follows (not verbatim, mind you. I came in a little late, but it's close to what was said):
Girl 1: ... and she wants to direct movies.
Girl 2: That's something I want to definitely do with my life: direct a movie.
Girl 1: Really? I didn't know that?
Girl 2: But, you know, it's like really unstable, trying to get into something like that.
Guy: Yeah, I mean, taking theater classes and stuff is fun but what would you do with it?
Girl 1: I had this freind who was doing pre-law but then she decided to do (something I missed) instead. (I'm guessing it was something acting related or whatnot).
Girl 2: Oh wow. But you know, she has something to fall back on, you know.
Girl 1: I mean, I really want to write a book. That's what I really want to do is write.
Guy: Yeah, but doing something like that, you just don't know. I mean, I liked being in that play, but it's really unstable if you want a job.
Girl 1 and 2 agree with Guy.
End of the conversation pretty much. I condensed it, yes.
So, as some background info for you, Girl 1 is a public relations major. Girl 2 is a marketing major (she was doing pre-physical therapy but decided the extra years after the program at our university weren't worth the trouble) and... I think Guy's major has something to do with business. I don't mean to sound like I didn't pay attention; in my defense, there's a lot of business related majors here. It's had for me to keep up.
Alright. So, obviously the point I'm trying to make here goes back to previous blog's mention of vo-tech versus the university and what that is supposed to mean. These kids, they have dreams of what will make them happy (I'm not sure if they are passing thoughts or something they're really passionate about. I don't know them well enough to say which) but they sacrifice the chance of doing something that might make them happy for financial security.
"Oh, Kim," you're saying, "grow up and smell the coffee. That's what you're supposed to do. Get a nice job, have a family, and be happy. Easy as that."
I disagree so thoroughly that if it could be measured in M&M's, there would be M&M's enough to fill up the world from the very deepest trench to the very highest mountain in all regions. M&M World disgust as it were. It's not a fault to want a good job that pays well. It's not a fault to want to support your family. Please, do both. But, please, don't do both by blindly following somebody saying you have to do these things.
I don't mean to sound haughty, but there's a number of professions I could have aspired to belonging to and made a decent paycheck. I won't pretend I'm not intelligent and capable and ruthless about my ambition when it comes to school. I'm all of those things. I have a 3.7 GPA and study foreign langauges and take honors classes and wish I had time to take fun classes (and by "fun" I mean calculus, comparative vertebrate anatomy, and abnormal psychology). If I had decided, nursing could have been a fast track for me. I probably would have liked it and excelled in what I did.
But I wouldn't be happy. Not with myself anyway. And it just makes me wonder if happiness is a goal anymore. I suppose it might be a goal much like enlightenment: a nice thought, but too difficult to ever try for. And I'm afraid that's what's happening to kids nowadays. I'm worried they just want to get a job and the big pay off is a new car, not happiness.
I don't want to get into the definition of what happiness might be. Go find Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics. I tend to like his definition a lot. My point is kids don't want to have passion beyond what the think it might be physically. It's questionable, to me anyway, if kids even know if passion is something more than a touch.
My passion for reading is such an all-consuming thing. Maybe I could have been a literature teacher (I guess I still could), but I love reading for the sake of reading. I don't want to be bothered an analysis after each book is closed. I have a passion for organization (strange as it seems). My travel journal here is not a record of my stupid thoughts (nope, they're all right here). My travel journal is to be a record of the flora and fauna here (the invertebrates anyway). I love things to be orderly. I relish a well-made outline. I pride myself in how fast I can alphbatize items. I get excited at the thought of getting back to my desk at home with my five different cups for different types of writing untensils.
Lame as it seems (my dorkiness is just something I must embrace. There's no getting rid of it.) I recognize my passions and find a way to channel them. Reading and organization is the very heart of research. A well-written thesis will look positively abysmal if not given the proper organization...
...but I digress. To cut to the chase, I'm sad to see the lack of real passion in people nowadays. It seems like when I was younger that children actually had dreams of being something bigger than just something that will help pay the bills. Up until I was about 10, I wanted to be an archeologist, no kidding. I was heartbroken the day I decided that, although I was interested in archeology, I probably wasn't going to study it for the sheer fact that my interests had expanded. That's the kind of passion I'm talking about; becoming mortally devesatated. I know just looking at a messy desk makes a heart skip a beat. I cringe. I have the urge to shake myself off. Don't get me started on ill-kept books or -God forbid- book burning.
Just thinking about it has killed my interest on continuing on with this discussion. Until later tonight.
Cheers.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Konversation Nummer Eins
This is one of three posts I will be making in succession. The first will cover what are colleges actually teaching us; the second will cover what does it mean to be happy (Conversation on the Bus); finally, the third will cover some miscellaneous misadventures and musings about life after my B.A. (or B.S.).
So, what are universities teaching students. First off, I should make some clarifications: I attend a four-year liberal arts university and study biology and psychology under the major of Liberal Arts. Why am I a liberal arts major in the first place? First and foremost, I've changed my major about three times (and I was a liberal arts major after climbing out of the pit of Undeclared), so time was a factor for me. Liberal arts allows me to have a flexible time table... which means if I want ot study biology, I won't have to take 500 level chemistry courses. My knowledge in chemistry is more than basic, please be assured; I've taken up to a 300 level chemistry course and received a B. As for psychology, well, any class is fine within the major requirments; I just want to get on with the Master's program and be done with it. Oh. And my minor is currently art, but will probably go back to Spanish (I think I only lack three or four courses to complete the matter). However, Liberal Arts allows me to be flexible within my thinking; if I don't want to be a wildlife biologist (as Murray has an excellent program and location for such), I don't have to be. On to my next topic:
What the heck am I going to do with that mish-mash of studies? I want to study evolutionary psychology. Evolution is my interest within biology and I'm interested, on the whole, in psychology (clinical work just isn't for me). And Spanish... Spanish is there because I like foreign languages... and the more and more I think about it, the evolutionary psychology of language is a topic of interest for me. So, being here in Germany has proved itself not so useless to my studies. Picking up a second language has done wonders for me as I have become more aware of the subtle (and not so subtle) nuances that each langauge has... I find more and more the connection from Spanish to English to German and it is fascinating. So, although I would love to do my research on violence and homicide, I think I will enjoy researching the development of langauges as well.
Alright then, back to the topic at hand. I would have liked for more of you to ask me questions and comment on the items I present because this would be a good time for me to wonder, "What do others get from attending a university?" However, I don't think that will happen. I shall present the situation to you as it occured in our class today and you can mull over it and be astounded as I was.
German 105 is a culture course. Here, it's even more geared toward culture because, well, a German professor teaches the course. Lucky us, really. Last week we were discussing sterotypes and thoughts we had about German people and the country and one of the topics of discussion was body odor (or as we called it, "stinky"). Our class went on to talk about our bathing habits and bathing habits that are acceptable and whatnot. Of course, (I hope), you know there is absolutely no reason to bathe once every day. I do it because it's a psychological thing about hygiene for me (I am not germaphobic, but it borders dangerously close to being so). And, (I hope, again) you know that bathing everyday actually dries out the natural oils of your skin and hair. Apparently, one girl in the class had a solution: lotion, of course. Who cares about lost oil now?
I don't think she's ever read the back of a lotion bottle. The main ingredient of most lotions is petroleum or some variation of oil. You have to shell out a lot of money to buy non-oil based lotions from a company. But, most lotions are oil-based. Our teacher made the obsveration that it's jst like humans to solve a problem they created when it could just have been avoided in the first place. I agree whole-heartedly. Lotion-girl, I don't think, was quite as convinced.
So, another girl asks; "Don't they know they stink? When I smell I notice it." Now. Do me a favor and re-read that sentence and, please, keep in mind that we are university students studying abroad and have been, supposedly, taught all the knowledge we would need to venture out into the world. We are talking about students who have never learned that everything is relative in the scope of other cultures... well, that's what they tried to teach us at the oreintation anyway. A few of us even made the comment that body oder and it's level of offensiveness are relative.
But Lotion Girl has a quickfire comeback. I want you to keep in mind that Lotion Girl is supposed to be member of the honors program at our university. Se decides that this is the deal breaker, "Well, if you were like a caveman in the stone age I can see where you don't know you don't stink. But if you bathe on the first day and notice you smell good and then on the third day you smell bad, wouldn't you realize you stink?"
I am speechless as soon as she utters the last syllable. This girl is attending the same honors classes I am. Heck, we had one together with one of the best professors on campus who made it his JOB to teach us that everything is realitive and to open our minds to philosophy. Was she asleep during class? If she got an A in the course, I want it appealled to at least a C. I recieved an A and I KNOW I learned, at the very least, that everything is relative.
Our GER 105 professor read my mind it seemed like. He says, "That's like saying something is good and bad. Define good and bad." Bam. HON 251 comes back to smack her in the face.
Now that my little anecdote is complete, I must wonder, "Where are these people during a lecture?" Certainly not learning anything. I don't think it has anything to do with the professors teaching the courses; I might attend a public university but I've had ivy league professors.
My personal opinion is this: four-year colleges are becoming the new vocational-technical schools. They are there so you can learn a trade and get a job. And that's how most students I talk to see it as. When asked, "Why are you here at this college?" most will reply, "To get a good paying job." Isn't that horribly sad? The university used to be, well, just that: the culmination of all of our best knowledge about the universe. This is where a person sought knowledge out because they craved it, because just having a job and paying the bills wasn't enough. They loved knowledge and the doors it opened in their mind.
Nowadays, students are forced to pick something they can finish in four years or less and find a decent paying job. Just look at the number of students who major in nursing (please, don't read into this that I look down upon the nursing profession. Nurses have something I don't and they are good at what they do. Damn good in all of my experiences). But, my meaning is understood, correct?
So, this actually leads us into another anecdote while on the bus from class to my dorm. I actually find it astounding how well it all fits together once I sat down and started brainstorming for these blogs... but I will save that for a bit later. I need to put up my laundry!
Cheers!
So, what are universities teaching students. First off, I should make some clarifications: I attend a four-year liberal arts university and study biology and psychology under the major of Liberal Arts. Why am I a liberal arts major in the first place? First and foremost, I've changed my major about three times (and I was a liberal arts major after climbing out of the pit of Undeclared), so time was a factor for me. Liberal arts allows me to have a flexible time table... which means if I want ot study biology, I won't have to take 500 level chemistry courses. My knowledge in chemistry is more than basic, please be assured; I've taken up to a 300 level chemistry course and received a B. As for psychology, well, any class is fine within the major requirments; I just want to get on with the Master's program and be done with it. Oh. And my minor is currently art, but will probably go back to Spanish (I think I only lack three or four courses to complete the matter). However, Liberal Arts allows me to be flexible within my thinking; if I don't want to be a wildlife biologist (as Murray has an excellent program and location for such), I don't have to be. On to my next topic:
What the heck am I going to do with that mish-mash of studies? I want to study evolutionary psychology. Evolution is my interest within biology and I'm interested, on the whole, in psychology (clinical work just isn't for me). And Spanish... Spanish is there because I like foreign languages... and the more and more I think about it, the evolutionary psychology of language is a topic of interest for me. So, being here in Germany has proved itself not so useless to my studies. Picking up a second language has done wonders for me as I have become more aware of the subtle (and not so subtle) nuances that each langauge has... I find more and more the connection from Spanish to English to German and it is fascinating. So, although I would love to do my research on violence and homicide, I think I will enjoy researching the development of langauges as well.
Alright then, back to the topic at hand. I would have liked for more of you to ask me questions and comment on the items I present because this would be a good time for me to wonder, "What do others get from attending a university?" However, I don't think that will happen. I shall present the situation to you as it occured in our class today and you can mull over it and be astounded as I was.
German 105 is a culture course. Here, it's even more geared toward culture because, well, a German professor teaches the course. Lucky us, really. Last week we were discussing sterotypes and thoughts we had about German people and the country and one of the topics of discussion was body odor (or as we called it, "stinky"). Our class went on to talk about our bathing habits and bathing habits that are acceptable and whatnot. Of course, (I hope), you know there is absolutely no reason to bathe once every day. I do it because it's a psychological thing about hygiene for me (I am not germaphobic, but it borders dangerously close to being so). And, (I hope, again) you know that bathing everyday actually dries out the natural oils of your skin and hair. Apparently, one girl in the class had a solution: lotion, of course. Who cares about lost oil now?
I don't think she's ever read the back of a lotion bottle. The main ingredient of most lotions is petroleum or some variation of oil. You have to shell out a lot of money to buy non-oil based lotions from a company. But, most lotions are oil-based. Our teacher made the obsveration that it's jst like humans to solve a problem they created when it could just have been avoided in the first place. I agree whole-heartedly. Lotion-girl, I don't think, was quite as convinced.
So, another girl asks; "Don't they know they stink? When I smell I notice it." Now. Do me a favor and re-read that sentence and, please, keep in mind that we are university students studying abroad and have been, supposedly, taught all the knowledge we would need to venture out into the world. We are talking about students who have never learned that everything is relative in the scope of other cultures... well, that's what they tried to teach us at the oreintation anyway. A few of us even made the comment that body oder and it's level of offensiveness are relative.
But Lotion Girl has a quickfire comeback. I want you to keep in mind that Lotion Girl is supposed to be member of the honors program at our university. Se decides that this is the deal breaker, "Well, if you were like a caveman in the stone age I can see where you don't know you don't stink. But if you bathe on the first day and notice you smell good and then on the third day you smell bad, wouldn't you realize you stink?"
I am speechless as soon as she utters the last syllable. This girl is attending the same honors classes I am. Heck, we had one together with one of the best professors on campus who made it his JOB to teach us that everything is realitive and to open our minds to philosophy. Was she asleep during class? If she got an A in the course, I want it appealled to at least a C. I recieved an A and I KNOW I learned, at the very least, that everything is relative.
Our GER 105 professor read my mind it seemed like. He says, "That's like saying something is good and bad. Define good and bad." Bam. HON 251 comes back to smack her in the face.
Now that my little anecdote is complete, I must wonder, "Where are these people during a lecture?" Certainly not learning anything. I don't think it has anything to do with the professors teaching the courses; I might attend a public university but I've had ivy league professors.
My personal opinion is this: four-year colleges are becoming the new vocational-technical schools. They are there so you can learn a trade and get a job. And that's how most students I talk to see it as. When asked, "Why are you here at this college?" most will reply, "To get a good paying job." Isn't that horribly sad? The university used to be, well, just that: the culmination of all of our best knowledge about the universe. This is where a person sought knowledge out because they craved it, because just having a job and paying the bills wasn't enough. They loved knowledge and the doors it opened in their mind.
Nowadays, students are forced to pick something they can finish in four years or less and find a decent paying job. Just look at the number of students who major in nursing (please, don't read into this that I look down upon the nursing profession. Nurses have something I don't and they are good at what they do. Damn good in all of my experiences). But, my meaning is understood, correct?
So, this actually leads us into another anecdote while on the bus from class to my dorm. I actually find it astounding how well it all fits together once I sat down and started brainstorming for these blogs... but I will save that for a bit later. I need to put up my laundry!
Cheers!
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Kim's Guide to German Beer: Severely Incomplete
I'm terribly sorry; I wasn't overly pensive today about where God might be today (although we were at a monstary). However, since we did visit the world's oldest Klosterbrauerei (literally a cloister brewery... and as I'm sure you all know "cloister" can refer to a group of monks). I'd like to make an important note here because a German woman we were with felt it necessary to point this out: it is not the world's longest running brewery, some place she mentioned has this title. The reason for this is because the "oldest" brewery was bought by a label in Munich and, therefore, lost it's own label and, consequently, it's running time. However, my thoughts on Weltenburg (where the monstery is) shall be saved for a later date (as well as a blog dedicated to Dachau and why I didn't take pictures of the concentration camp).
This is "Kim's Official Guide to German Beer: Severely Incomplete."
I'd like to first mention the most beer I've had in one day here is 2 half litres and even then there was a number of hours in between the two half litres. I have not been drunk. I have not been tipsy. I drink wine and beer for taste (my family raised me that way) and have never before been drunk. I will admit to being a tad bit tipsy during Passover last year, but even then I was alright (besides trying to use the steamcleaner to vacuum the carpet in my grandma and mom's place... no one allows me to forget it, so I might as well just get it out of the way. I'd like to say in my defense that I never knew they had a steamcleaner and have never used the vacuum there before, so it could have been an honest mistake had I not had a bit too much kosher wine).
But I digress and ramble. I will credit some of this information to our director who gave us a list of beer that we will encounter here, but the commentary is my own. Also, if I haven't tried it, I'll be sure to say, "Ich weiB nicht (I don't know)."
Brewery (Brauerei) and Biere (Beer). Easy enough, right? Now the beers:
Helles Bier = your typical lager beer ("hell means light in color"), sometimes called Zwickel
Kim's verdict: I've only had one, but it was smooth. The froth was about an inch thick I think
and it was bitter... obviously not my favorite part. The taste was, of course, better than American beer, but it's not my favorite. A bit to weak for my taste.
Dunkles Bier = dark beer with a bit more body, often served in a squat mug
Kim's verdict: I am not going to be unbiased about this. Dunkles is my favorite (there's an umlaut over the "u" as well by the way). This stuff is strong and harty. Every dunkle I've had has been smooth and the taste is indescribably amazing. The world's oldest brewery specializes in these and, oh boy. It was as smooth as silk and had a rich taste.
Weißbier = literally, white beer due to the addition of wheat into the brewing process, giving the beer a cloudy, white color. AKA Weizenbier = wheat beer, always served in a taller glass with a vase like foot
Kim's verdict: Ich weiB nicht.
Pils, Pilsner = a lager beer brewed in the style from Plzen (Pilsen), Czech Republic. More yeast gives it a slightly more bitter taste. Always served in a distinctive, tapered glass with straight sides
Kim's verdict: I've had a couple of Pils. I don't think they are as smooth as some of
the other beers, but it's a little sweeter. It's also a bit more stout, in my humble
opinion.
Roggen = Rye grain is added to the brewing process
Kim's verdict: Ich weiB nicht.
Bock = strongly flavored with a higher alcoholic content
Kim's verdict: Ich weiB nicht.
And some popular mixtures:
Russen = Weißbier & cola
Kim's verdict: If you want a beer, this isn't your drink. I bought one for the sake of trying it and it tasted like beer-flavored Coca-Cola. I can see where this might be popular for those beginning on the path of beer drinking, but as someone who likes a good beer, I would probably order this again only because a WeiBen Cola is cheaper than buying an actual Coke. But it's good as a Coke product, I'll give it that. America needs to think about investing into something like this.
Radler = ein Helles & lemonade
Kim's Verdict: A little FYI about this drink first: it's called "radler" because a "radler" is a bicyclist. This beer (along with Russen) have lower alcohol... obviously. Around here, if you're on a bike and are caught drunk-biking, the Polizei can and will take your license away... your driver's license for peddling a bike drunk. So, this is popular with those who are about to bike home, I guess. The girls on our program drink it because I think the alcohol tolerence is a little low and it doesn't take too terribly much to push them over the edge. As for me, it's so-so. I don't like lemonade.
And in case you needed more proof for the sheer seriousness that Germans take with their beer:
Reinheitsgebot, Purity Law, 1516, issued by Duke Wilhelm IV of Bavaria in Ingolstadt, is the oldest law for food production in Germany, allows only four ingredients for brewing beer: water, hops (only the dried blossoms), malt (barley or wheat), and yeast (for fermentation).
Yep. There's a beer law here. Thank heavens.
I've told numerous people that I'll never touch an American beer again and they just say, "Wait until you're back in the states and need a beer." At that point I'll tell them I only drink Corona or Heineken anyway. Obviously, not American beers.
Anyway, I'm off to download pictures.
Cheers!
This is "Kim's Official Guide to German Beer: Severely Incomplete."
I'd like to first mention the most beer I've had in one day here is 2 half litres and even then there was a number of hours in between the two half litres. I have not been drunk. I have not been tipsy. I drink wine and beer for taste (my family raised me that way) and have never before been drunk. I will admit to being a tad bit tipsy during Passover last year, but even then I was alright (besides trying to use the steamcleaner to vacuum the carpet in my grandma and mom's place... no one allows me to forget it, so I might as well just get it out of the way. I'd like to say in my defense that I never knew they had a steamcleaner and have never used the vacuum there before, so it could have been an honest mistake had I not had a bit too much kosher wine).
But I digress and ramble. I will credit some of this information to our director who gave us a list of beer that we will encounter here, but the commentary is my own. Also, if I haven't tried it, I'll be sure to say, "Ich weiB nicht (I don't know)."
Brewery (Brauerei) and Biere (Beer). Easy enough, right? Now the beers:
Helles Bier = your typical lager beer ("hell means light in color"), sometimes called Zwickel
Kim's verdict: I've only had one, but it was smooth. The froth was about an inch thick I think
and it was bitter... obviously not my favorite part. The taste was, of course, better than American beer, but it's not my favorite. A bit to weak for my taste.
Dunkles Bier = dark beer with a bit more body, often served in a squat mug
Kim's verdict: I am not going to be unbiased about this. Dunkles is my favorite (there's an umlaut over the "u" as well by the way). This stuff is strong and harty. Every dunkle I've had has been smooth and the taste is indescribably amazing. The world's oldest brewery specializes in these and, oh boy. It was as smooth as silk and had a rich taste.
Weißbier = literally, white beer due to the addition of wheat into the brewing process, giving the beer a cloudy, white color. AKA Weizenbier = wheat beer, always served in a taller glass with a vase like foot
Kim's verdict: Ich weiB nicht.
Pils, Pilsner = a lager beer brewed in the style from Plzen (Pilsen), Czech Republic. More yeast gives it a slightly more bitter taste. Always served in a distinctive, tapered glass with straight sides
Kim's verdict: I've had a couple of Pils. I don't think they are as smooth as some of
the other beers, but it's a little sweeter. It's also a bit more stout, in my humble
opinion.
Roggen = Rye grain is added to the brewing process
Kim's verdict: Ich weiB nicht.
Bock = strongly flavored with a higher alcoholic content
Kim's verdict: Ich weiB nicht.
And some popular mixtures:
Russen = Weißbier & cola
Kim's verdict: If you want a beer, this isn't your drink. I bought one for the sake of trying it and it tasted like beer-flavored Coca-Cola. I can see where this might be popular for those beginning on the path of beer drinking, but as someone who likes a good beer, I would probably order this again only because a WeiBen Cola is cheaper than buying an actual Coke. But it's good as a Coke product, I'll give it that. America needs to think about investing into something like this.
Radler = ein Helles & lemonade
Kim's Verdict: A little FYI about this drink first: it's called "radler" because a "radler" is a bicyclist. This beer (along with Russen) have lower alcohol... obviously. Around here, if you're on a bike and are caught drunk-biking, the Polizei can and will take your license away... your driver's license for peddling a bike drunk. So, this is popular with those who are about to bike home, I guess. The girls on our program drink it because I think the alcohol tolerence is a little low and it doesn't take too terribly much to push them over the edge. As for me, it's so-so. I don't like lemonade.
And in case you needed more proof for the sheer seriousness that Germans take with their beer:
Reinheitsgebot, Purity Law, 1516, issued by Duke Wilhelm IV of Bavaria in Ingolstadt, is the oldest law for food production in Germany, allows only four ingredients for brewing beer: water, hops (only the dried blossoms), malt (barley or wheat), and yeast (for fermentation).
Yep. There's a beer law here. Thank heavens.
I've told numerous people that I'll never touch an American beer again and they just say, "Wait until you're back in the states and need a beer." At that point I'll tell them I only drink Corona or Heineken anyway. Obviously, not American beers.
Anyway, I'm off to download pictures.
Cheers!
Saturday, August 29, 2009
So Close!
Just as a tidbit of information, I've been messing around with the HTML on the template... and I had it at 3 COLUMNS!!!
But then realized the snazzy, weathered paper look was nowhere to be found and, in it's place, plain, bland creme. Yuck.
We'll try that again another day. Until then, I've got a book to read.
Cheers!
But then realized the snazzy, weathered paper look was nowhere to be found and, in it's place, plain, bland creme. Yuck.
We'll try that again another day. Until then, I've got a book to read.
Cheers!
My Apologies
After working on this blog this morning, I realize that some of them were a little pessimistic... ok, more than a little.
I know what's going on and if staying in my room the entire day is what's needed, then so be it. Quite honestly, depression is now the conductor onboard and the doldrums are my next stop. It happens. I promise and cross my heart to you all, my faithful readers (the few you are) that I shall venture out today. I will even shower and shave my legs, that's how serious I am about this whole venturing out today.
Besides... I need food. I think I might venture out to the stone bridge and read by the banks of the River Danube. I did so Sunday for about 3 hours and it was absoultely amazing...
Allow me to extrapolate: The River Danube, as you know is one of the major rivers in Europe. Regensburg has the luck of being by it (incidentally, I think that the "regens" part of the city name has its roots in a Roman name that means "by the river") and the city is connected by a large stone bridge. Apparently there is this story about the men contructing the bridge and the cathedral. It is said that the man in charge of the bridges constructed sold his soul to the Devil (*gasp*) to beat the man building the cathedral. So, it might be that walking across it, I might actually be stepping on something that the Devil helped out with... and then I remembered the whole Adam and Eve and Garden of Eden ordeal and then realize, "Eh. The bridge might not be the worse thing connected with a Devil myth."
But it is simply gorgeous and breathtaking and all those airy, romantic ideas of Europe and European ideals. I sat on a bench close to the river and was surrounded by lush and colorful varities of blooms not foud in America (me waxing poetic again... you have to watch me. I like to sneak those in every once in a while). The air was clear, the sky a blue unable to be bottled by any painter and the atmosphere so realxing I could have napped there for a thousand years. Fortunately, I was reading Sophie's World: A Brief History of Philosophy at the time so it became even more dramatic and surreal. Another thing amusing was the amount of America tourists who would ask if I spoke English and, when I did so, they would comment that I did well in speaking it. The moment was ruined when I informed them I was from Kentucky... but then they complimented me by informing me I had no accent: score.
There's actually a legend about the River Danube that says if you're in love that the Danube will appear blue. I'n not 100% sure, but I do believe that there is an old American movie that quotes that as well.
Anyway, see? I haven't been all sullen during my stay here! I just haven't written a whole lot about the "this is where I went, here's who I was with... it was cool." I should though. I need to comment on the impressiveness of the Walhalla and it's history and being in Regensburg since I've settled a little and, of course, classes.
Until later, cheers!
I know what's going on and if staying in my room the entire day is what's needed, then so be it. Quite honestly, depression is now the conductor onboard and the doldrums are my next stop. It happens. I promise and cross my heart to you all, my faithful readers (the few you are) that I shall venture out today. I will even shower and shave my legs, that's how serious I am about this whole venturing out today.
Besides... I need food. I think I might venture out to the stone bridge and read by the banks of the River Danube. I did so Sunday for about 3 hours and it was absoultely amazing...
Allow me to extrapolate: The River Danube, as you know is one of the major rivers in Europe. Regensburg has the luck of being by it (incidentally, I think that the "regens" part of the city name has its roots in a Roman name that means "by the river") and the city is connected by a large stone bridge. Apparently there is this story about the men contructing the bridge and the cathedral. It is said that the man in charge of the bridges constructed sold his soul to the Devil (*gasp*) to beat the man building the cathedral. So, it might be that walking across it, I might actually be stepping on something that the Devil helped out with... and then I remembered the whole Adam and Eve and Garden of Eden ordeal and then realize, "Eh. The bridge might not be the worse thing connected with a Devil myth."
But it is simply gorgeous and breathtaking and all those airy, romantic ideas of Europe and European ideals. I sat on a bench close to the river and was surrounded by lush and colorful varities of blooms not foud in America (me waxing poetic again... you have to watch me. I like to sneak those in every once in a while). The air was clear, the sky a blue unable to be bottled by any painter and the atmosphere so realxing I could have napped there for a thousand years. Fortunately, I was reading Sophie's World: A Brief History of Philosophy at the time so it became even more dramatic and surreal. Another thing amusing was the amount of America tourists who would ask if I spoke English and, when I did so, they would comment that I did well in speaking it. The moment was ruined when I informed them I was from Kentucky... but then they complimented me by informing me I had no accent: score.
There's actually a legend about the River Danube that says if you're in love that the Danube will appear blue. I'n not 100% sure, but I do believe that there is an old American movie that quotes that as well.
Anyway, see? I haven't been all sullen during my stay here! I just haven't written a whole lot about the "this is where I went, here's who I was with... it was cool." I should though. I need to comment on the impressiveness of the Walhalla and it's history and being in Regensburg since I've settled a little and, of course, classes.
Until later, cheers!
Part II: The Letters to Chris
"Dear Chris,
We, as humans, are scared shitless of not having control. I sometimes wonder if maybe, possibly, it’s easier for people (especially those extremely devoted to their religion) to say they’ve given all the control to their god… but really it’s their idea of God or a god or whatever, right? We can never know EXACTLY what God’s thoughts are so when others say they’ve laid down all their trust in God are they really allowing for all control to be freely given away? What if what their really doing is say this, but in reality (without thinking too much about it) they’re just giving control back to themselves? You understand what I’m saying, richtig? Es verdad? I’ve always had this thought that when others prayed to God for guidance that it can’t be 100% God… that possibly they are superimposing their own wants and, unconsciously, believing God has given them His blessing… that they are really following His will. And when things don’t go well they just tell themselves that it means God didn’t want that for them.How many emotions and thoughts can be repressed before things go horribly wrong? I think the Buddhists have it more correct than the Christians; understand you have desires and work through them. Don’t just ask God to take them away. I think God likes to see a little hard work on our part.I think I said this before but I know there’s a God. I don’t know how but I know there is an entity that is greater than the people on Earth. I don’t know his or hers exact nature or involvement but there’s something above us. Even if in reality, when we die, the idea of God was always in our heads and death really is nothingness, it is just as powerful as if there really was a God. Our mind is a powerful thing, just look at people with mental illnesses. So even if God is just something in our heads, I can deal with that because, more than likely, when we die I think we might just bring that God with us. I know I will disappoint my mother if she even knew I thought about this, but as Goethe said, “He who cannot draw on three thousand years is living from hand to mouth.” I can’t ignore the history of human thought because, if I do, it is as if I am denying my own. I can’t act as if my meager 21 years spent here on Earth have been enough to make a sound decision on the matter of existence, the purpose of living, death, and the afterlife. I can no longer make myself believe that just going to church every Sunday is going to fix that. I can’t expect that even if I could become more active in a church, it would make me feel any better on the matter. I’m not saying that those who do are ignorant, horrible, or any deviant variation thereof. I once was yelled at by a girl because she immediately thought that when I asked a professor if she thought religion often held back extremely intelligent people from the sciences I was calling all religious people ignorant. She apologized immediately after class. I just patted her shoulder and went on my merry way.God was not in the Temazcal. God was not in any of the cathedrals in Mexico. God was not in the Baptist church in Kentucky. God was not in the sky. God was not in the Dom, the cathedral of St. Peter. I have not found God anywhere, yet. But God is supposed to be everywhere all at once. I can believe that. I just have to look a little closer maybe and understand what it is I should be looking at and maybe I will find the answers. But I can also understand the point of view of the atheists and agnostics. I feel as if everyone is correct, but that can’t be so. In the mean time, I will continue to be wise and admit I know nothing."
Cheers.
We, as humans, are scared shitless of not having control. I sometimes wonder if maybe, possibly, it’s easier for people (especially those extremely devoted to their religion) to say they’ve given all the control to their god… but really it’s their idea of God or a god or whatever, right? We can never know EXACTLY what God’s thoughts are so when others say they’ve laid down all their trust in God are they really allowing for all control to be freely given away? What if what their really doing is say this, but in reality (without thinking too much about it) they’re just giving control back to themselves? You understand what I’m saying, richtig? Es verdad? I’ve always had this thought that when others prayed to God for guidance that it can’t be 100% God… that possibly they are superimposing their own wants and, unconsciously, believing God has given them His blessing… that they are really following His will. And when things don’t go well they just tell themselves that it means God didn’t want that for them.How many emotions and thoughts can be repressed before things go horribly wrong? I think the Buddhists have it more correct than the Christians; understand you have desires and work through them. Don’t just ask God to take them away. I think God likes to see a little hard work on our part.I think I said this before but I know there’s a God. I don’t know how but I know there is an entity that is greater than the people on Earth. I don’t know his or hers exact nature or involvement but there’s something above us. Even if in reality, when we die, the idea of God was always in our heads and death really is nothingness, it is just as powerful as if there really was a God. Our mind is a powerful thing, just look at people with mental illnesses. So even if God is just something in our heads, I can deal with that because, more than likely, when we die I think we might just bring that God with us. I know I will disappoint my mother if she even knew I thought about this, but as Goethe said, “He who cannot draw on three thousand years is living from hand to mouth.” I can’t ignore the history of human thought because, if I do, it is as if I am denying my own. I can’t act as if my meager 21 years spent here on Earth have been enough to make a sound decision on the matter of existence, the purpose of living, death, and the afterlife. I can no longer make myself believe that just going to church every Sunday is going to fix that. I can’t expect that even if I could become more active in a church, it would make me feel any better on the matter. I’m not saying that those who do are ignorant, horrible, or any deviant variation thereof. I once was yelled at by a girl because she immediately thought that when I asked a professor if she thought religion often held back extremely intelligent people from the sciences I was calling all religious people ignorant. She apologized immediately after class. I just patted her shoulder and went on my merry way.God was not in the Temazcal. God was not in any of the cathedrals in Mexico. God was not in the Baptist church in Kentucky. God was not in the sky. God was not in the Dom, the cathedral of St. Peter. I have not found God anywhere, yet. But God is supposed to be everywhere all at once. I can believe that. I just have to look a little closer maybe and understand what it is I should be looking at and maybe I will find the answers. But I can also understand the point of view of the atheists and agnostics. I feel as if everyone is correct, but that can’t be so. In the mean time, I will continue to be wise and admit I know nothing."
Cheers.
Part I: The Letters to Chris
"The Letters to Chris" series is a number of partial letters that I am writing to my best friend/roommate/boyfriend while I am away in Germany. No, they aren't the letters in their entirity. The portions that I am including are actually things I was hoping to include in my blog while I am here anyway. Laziness as my companion, I thought, "Hey. Let's kill two birds with one stone."
I realize my disclaimer is below these entries, but hopefully most of my readers are from my friends list on Facebook and, therefore, have already received the notice. If not, terribly sorry.
Without further ado:
"Dear Chris,
I might mention this in one of my other blogs while in Germany, but while traveling to the Walhalla, I was remembering my thoughts while flying through the sky to reach the Munich airport. I have lots of things I want to accomplish while I’m here (one of them being almost complete, the book Sophie’s World): I want to work on my thesis, learn a little German (I don’t have any illusions that I will be very good at it by the time I leave), and finish some non-school related reading. But I think I also came to try to find God. As you know, my spirituality and I at the moment are at odds. Not because the scientist in me doesn’t find it rational to believe in something so faith based; there is never a reconciliation between what we think and what we feel, our mind and our senses… maybe faith connects those two together? Faith in something so much larger than ourselves that our rationality cannot comprehend it and something so powerful it fulfills our senses need for something more than tactile in this poor world. Just to let you know: God is not above the clouds or in between, no heaven is to be found. God was not in the Hall of the Dead (Walhalla). But I think that maybe I was doing the same thing in Mexico, but God was not atop the Pyramid of the Sun or the temple dedicated to Quetzquetl. Maybe God was atop the Pyramid of the Moon… I didn’t go atop it but I doubt he was there either; I heard no reports from others that he had taken up residence there.I’m not sure what you think about my belief in a god. I suppose the God I mostly refer to is the one of the Judeo-Christian respect: Yahweh, Jehovah. Maybe you think it’s silly. Maybe interesting. Maybe you just don’t care. I don’t know. I do know what started this whole dilemma with me though. It has nothing to do with believing that God exists. I could not give you reasons why I know He is there. Or She… there was some popularity in the belief of a female God. If God were a human (which is contradictory anyway), gender would matter. But as (S)He is God, I’m sure it doesn’t matter.… I’ll continue this another day. I must get some sleep in order to wake up at 6 am and then catch the 7:49 bus."
Cheers.
I realize my disclaimer is below these entries, but hopefully most of my readers are from my friends list on Facebook and, therefore, have already received the notice. If not, terribly sorry.
Without further ado:
"Dear Chris,
I might mention this in one of my other blogs while in Germany, but while traveling to the Walhalla, I was remembering my thoughts while flying through the sky to reach the Munich airport. I have lots of things I want to accomplish while I’m here (one of them being almost complete, the book Sophie’s World): I want to work on my thesis, learn a little German (I don’t have any illusions that I will be very good at it by the time I leave), and finish some non-school related reading. But I think I also came to try to find God. As you know, my spirituality and I at the moment are at odds. Not because the scientist in me doesn’t find it rational to believe in something so faith based; there is never a reconciliation between what we think and what we feel, our mind and our senses… maybe faith connects those two together? Faith in something so much larger than ourselves that our rationality cannot comprehend it and something so powerful it fulfills our senses need for something more than tactile in this poor world. Just to let you know: God is not above the clouds or in between, no heaven is to be found. God was not in the Hall of the Dead (Walhalla). But I think that maybe I was doing the same thing in Mexico, but God was not atop the Pyramid of the Sun or the temple dedicated to Quetzquetl. Maybe God was atop the Pyramid of the Moon… I didn’t go atop it but I doubt he was there either; I heard no reports from others that he had taken up residence there.I’m not sure what you think about my belief in a god. I suppose the God I mostly refer to is the one of the Judeo-Christian respect: Yahweh, Jehovah. Maybe you think it’s silly. Maybe interesting. Maybe you just don’t care. I don’t know. I do know what started this whole dilemma with me though. It has nothing to do with believing that God exists. I could not give you reasons why I know He is there. Or She… there was some popularity in the belief of a female God. If God were a human (which is contradictory anyway), gender would matter. But as (S)He is God, I’m sure it doesn’t matter.… I’ll continue this another day. I must get some sleep in order to wake up at 6 am and then catch the 7:49 bus."
Cheers.
A Warning and Disclaimer
Hopefully the title of this note will draw people in. If not, oh well.If you follow my blog (and I'm not sure how many of you do), I would like to warn you that I am about to post some things that may not settle well with you... of course, it has to deal with religion. What else?If you want to send me nasty e-mails, feel free. Tell me I am horrible and blasphemous and whatnot. Tell me that God will always love me and that I will eventually find my way.I just wanted to let those of you know that if it's a touchy subject for you, don't bother reading if it's going to make you upset. It is not my intention for anything I write to disturb or shock or hurt others. These are simply my thoughts and therefore, probably don't account for much. On a brighter note, I hope those of you who do read have been thoroughly satisfied with my work. If you have questions about my thoughts (or even Germany!) please do ask! It's hard sitting alone in my room and trying to think of something clever to write. I mean, obviously, I haven't had an abundance of success.
Cheers.
Cheers.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Report from the Time Traveler
This is a bunch of (double language warning) fucking shit.
I've been the only person in my group without a Handy (German cell phone) for little over a week now. The program director had to order a new one, flat out, because it was just so old. But he was giving everyone their cell phones personally. Mine? Me, the person who has gone without for little over a week? He gives it to the girl who is most likely to follow everyone around and engage in behavior related to the ominous threat known as "peer pressure." I'm not trying to speak ill of her, but his judgement was a little poor in that respect. So, I am, still surely, without a cell phone for the weekend because I just know she's going to run off to Munich with everyone else with my cell phone locked in her room.
I ask, "What did I do to deserve this?"
*five minutes later* After deleting the overly nasty paragraph I had written, I realized that there's no sense in wasting my breath.
Anyhow, this is my first weekend off and I plan to spend it relaxing as at the moment I only have $76 in my bank account and maybe 50 Euro in my wallet. Oh, and some American notes that aren't worth anything here.
I think I am slowly and unconsciously developing anorexia here. I realized when I took a nap this afternoon that I was dizzy because I hadn't eaten since... lunch yesterday which was only one-third of a doner kabab. Not that's it helping; I'm still the size of a small whale. For those of you who know me, my weight is a large factor in my overly critical evaluation of myself. This trip not excluded.
Maybe it's just me; maybe I wasn't meant to go abroad because I can't act like the Americans foreigners are used to seeing via our media. I can't explain to people that parties are a drag for me, drinking provides no means of entertainment, and staying up late is just wasting my valuable sleep time. Nobody gets that. Instead, I have to go along with things I don't like to do just so I don't seem stuck-up (although I'm not sure how that evalution can be given; there is one girl in particular who is far more blatent about her good fortune than I... and I have none to speak of at the moment). Nobody ever assumes that maybe I'm just quiet and shy. No. They assume I'm stuck up. I, the poor girl with no money and they have oodles to spend and I'm stuck up. This world makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.
I usually try to console myself with the fact that I can pour myself into my studies and research. I try to tell myself to memorize every German vocabulary word in the dictionary... but then my stomach lets me know it has began the process of eating itself alive.
Other than that. Not much has happened. Just the same old stuff. SSDD, you know?
Oh well. Cheers.
I've been the only person in my group without a Handy (German cell phone) for little over a week now. The program director had to order a new one, flat out, because it was just so old. But he was giving everyone their cell phones personally. Mine? Me, the person who has gone without for little over a week? He gives it to the girl who is most likely to follow everyone around and engage in behavior related to the ominous threat known as "peer pressure." I'm not trying to speak ill of her, but his judgement was a little poor in that respect. So, I am, still surely, without a cell phone for the weekend because I just know she's going to run off to Munich with everyone else with my cell phone locked in her room.
I ask, "What did I do to deserve this?"
*five minutes later* After deleting the overly nasty paragraph I had written, I realized that there's no sense in wasting my breath.
Anyhow, this is my first weekend off and I plan to spend it relaxing as at the moment I only have $76 in my bank account and maybe 50 Euro in my wallet. Oh, and some American notes that aren't worth anything here.
I think I am slowly and unconsciously developing anorexia here. I realized when I took a nap this afternoon that I was dizzy because I hadn't eaten since... lunch yesterday which was only one-third of a doner kabab. Not that's it helping; I'm still the size of a small whale. For those of you who know me, my weight is a large factor in my overly critical evaluation of myself. This trip not excluded.
Maybe it's just me; maybe I wasn't meant to go abroad because I can't act like the Americans foreigners are used to seeing via our media. I can't explain to people that parties are a drag for me, drinking provides no means of entertainment, and staying up late is just wasting my valuable sleep time. Nobody gets that. Instead, I have to go along with things I don't like to do just so I don't seem stuck-up (although I'm not sure how that evalution can be given; there is one girl in particular who is far more blatent about her good fortune than I... and I have none to speak of at the moment). Nobody ever assumes that maybe I'm just quiet and shy. No. They assume I'm stuck up. I, the poor girl with no money and they have oodles to spend and I'm stuck up. This world makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.
I usually try to console myself with the fact that I can pour myself into my studies and research. I try to tell myself to memorize every German vocabulary word in the dictionary... but then my stomach lets me know it has began the process of eating itself alive.
Other than that. Not much has happened. Just the same old stuff. SSDD, you know?
Oh well. Cheers.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
On Actually Being Here: A Post from the Past
08/19/09
Yes, that’s correct: I made it to Regensburg. The flight wasn’t too bad as I was seated next to a political science professor and he talked non-stop for 5 of the 7 hours and 40 minutes. But everything we talked about was pretty interesting. He actually moved from the states to Munich in 2000 so he was trying to give me some helpful tips. The in-flight movie was some Clive Owen/Sandra Bullock kinda deal so I didn’t even bother getting headphones (although when I flew with Delta, they gave us the headphones for free. Those cheap things aren’t worth paying for.) The in-flight dinner was a choice between chicken with gravy or pasta with a white cheese sauce (which I kind only surmise was a poor attempt at Alfredo sauce). I chose the chicken and ended up with a chicken/instant mashed potato/re-hydrated veggie deal all mixed in with the gravy, a 5 nut roll, a small salad with only Caesar dressing (which I tried and discovered I did not like), some brownie dessert thing, and (the best part) a whole can of Minute Maid cran-apple juice. Ever since leaving Philadelphia I have been literally dying of thirst. My mouth is constantly dry and I have a horrible headache (on top of jet lag). The trip to Regensburg wasn’t bad. After some confusion at the Munich airport (I couldn’t find the person I was supposed to meet), we made it to the bus that was to take us to the train that would eventually get us into Regensburg. I did take a quick nap on the bus, but I have been exhausted all day. The program director, John, told me he would be by at 2:30 or 3 and there was going to be some lunch with others who had arrived. But I’ve been so tired; I just slept on and off all day… I’m pretty sure I missed him. To top things off, I find out Radio Shack sold me a converter that, indeed, fits the prongs of the outlets over here, but it’s so large and bulky that it doesn’t allow for the prongs to go into the damn outlet. Thus, my cell phone, my ONLY means of communication at the moment has died on me and I am stuck without anyway to contact anyone. The residence hall is interesting. I wish Murray State would adopt housing such as this… but it would mean too much freedom and responsibility for students. Within an entire complex, there are houses. I’m in House 1A and I have to use a key to get into the main door that takes me into the stairwell that goes up three floors (and I’m on the third floor… I found that surprise while having to haul luggage up three flights of stairs). On each floor there are only two doors: One leads to rooms 1000-1016 and the second leads to rooms 1017-1036. My room is 3018 so I go through the second door. I have to use the same large key to open this door. My room is conveniently placed right next to the kitchen and across from the bath. My room is set away from the rest of the rooms; like I mentioned, room 3017 is the kitchen and it’s a shared kitchen that also leads out to a patio. My room has a bed with shelves overhead. There’s a nightstand with a lockable drawer and I have a HUGE wardrobe with cupboard on top and shelves and a bottom drawer. It also came complete with hangers, thank heavens. My meager desk is large and is next to the wardrobe; it is meager with only a top and four legs, but it does the job. As soon as school starts, it will be a good place to work. There’s a set of shelves on the wall nearest the foot of my bed along with a drawer underneath my bed. There is a lot of space between my bed and the window… it looks extremely bare. I’m sure regular students have a field day re-arranging a room… although I don’t know what the double rooms look like. There’s a lot of space to work with in the private room. The empty space I was talking about is big enough to put a futon next to the window; and I only say futon because it runs into the space underneath a shelf so the futon would allow for some height forgiveness. But a comfortable loveseat could easily fit there as well. The window is large and opens up just a little, so not a whole lot of air circulation and there’s no air conditioning here (although it is a tad more uncomfortable than I like after traveling so much, it’s pretty much like being back home in Murray where I only have a fan in my room). There is, however, a large heater. It’s the white kind with the coils and I’m pretty sure is gas run.Oh… but there are community baths. I had applied for a hall with private baths for the rooms, but the program changed some of the living arrangements. The fact it is across from my room helps a little, but it is still a little daunting for me… I don’t do well with sharing my hygienic space. The bathroom door opens to reveal two sides; to the immediate left and right there are WC’s (water closets = the toilet). The doors on my floor have been cutely segregated by gender via small sharpie drawings, one depicting a round-faceless figure wearing a dress and on the other door graces another expressionless character that sports a tie. There isn’t a urinal in the other one. I just think they made separate bathrooms to draw a line somewhere. The toilets are fun as well... and by fun I mean I try not to think about germs. It isn’t the whole toilet just the flushing mechanism which is a large button on the tank that you push. I try not to think about the germs crawling on that button. But then the hall splits into two again, each side containing one shower and two sinks with mirrors over them. There is a window and heater in each bath as well. What makes the community bath thing not so bad is the fact each section locks. The WC’s lock but then the two bath sections also have doors that lock; no fear of someone wanting to take a shower while you brush your teeth or vise versa. The community baths at Murray are far less elegant. And far more disgusting. I have ventured out; down the street and a street light away, there’s a little shopping area. There’s a small bakery (my wish has come true… less than a five minute walk for fresh bread! In Mexico I had a 15 minute walk to the school and then a 7 minute walk to the bakery), a newsstand, and a few other little things I didn’t really look at. I was more concerned about getting something to drink… anything. This thirst thing is a miserable issue at the moment. However, I had some issues about where to walk. There’s two sidewalks: one for walking the other for biking. It took me a few minutes to understand this although some people walk on the “bikewalk.” …and just an hour ago I realized my cell phone charger will work with an adapter…
Ugh. I’m going to bed. Cheers.
Yes, that’s correct: I made it to Regensburg. The flight wasn’t too bad as I was seated next to a political science professor and he talked non-stop for 5 of the 7 hours and 40 minutes. But everything we talked about was pretty interesting. He actually moved from the states to Munich in 2000 so he was trying to give me some helpful tips. The in-flight movie was some Clive Owen/Sandra Bullock kinda deal so I didn’t even bother getting headphones (although when I flew with Delta, they gave us the headphones for free. Those cheap things aren’t worth paying for.) The in-flight dinner was a choice between chicken with gravy or pasta with a white cheese sauce (which I kind only surmise was a poor attempt at Alfredo sauce). I chose the chicken and ended up with a chicken/instant mashed potato/re-hydrated veggie deal all mixed in with the gravy, a 5 nut roll, a small salad with only Caesar dressing (which I tried and discovered I did not like), some brownie dessert thing, and (the best part) a whole can of Minute Maid cran-apple juice. Ever since leaving Philadelphia I have been literally dying of thirst. My mouth is constantly dry and I have a horrible headache (on top of jet lag). The trip to Regensburg wasn’t bad. After some confusion at the Munich airport (I couldn’t find the person I was supposed to meet), we made it to the bus that was to take us to the train that would eventually get us into Regensburg. I did take a quick nap on the bus, but I have been exhausted all day. The program director, John, told me he would be by at 2:30 or 3 and there was going to be some lunch with others who had arrived. But I’ve been so tired; I just slept on and off all day… I’m pretty sure I missed him. To top things off, I find out Radio Shack sold me a converter that, indeed, fits the prongs of the outlets over here, but it’s so large and bulky that it doesn’t allow for the prongs to go into the damn outlet. Thus, my cell phone, my ONLY means of communication at the moment has died on me and I am stuck without anyway to contact anyone. The residence hall is interesting. I wish Murray State would adopt housing such as this… but it would mean too much freedom and responsibility for students. Within an entire complex, there are houses. I’m in House 1A and I have to use a key to get into the main door that takes me into the stairwell that goes up three floors (and I’m on the third floor… I found that surprise while having to haul luggage up three flights of stairs). On each floor there are only two doors: One leads to rooms 1000-1016 and the second leads to rooms 1017-1036. My room is 3018 so I go through the second door. I have to use the same large key to open this door. My room is conveniently placed right next to the kitchen and across from the bath. My room is set away from the rest of the rooms; like I mentioned, room 3017 is the kitchen and it’s a shared kitchen that also leads out to a patio. My room has a bed with shelves overhead. There’s a nightstand with a lockable drawer and I have a HUGE wardrobe with cupboard on top and shelves and a bottom drawer. It also came complete with hangers, thank heavens. My meager desk is large and is next to the wardrobe; it is meager with only a top and four legs, but it does the job. As soon as school starts, it will be a good place to work. There’s a set of shelves on the wall nearest the foot of my bed along with a drawer underneath my bed. There is a lot of space between my bed and the window… it looks extremely bare. I’m sure regular students have a field day re-arranging a room… although I don’t know what the double rooms look like. There’s a lot of space to work with in the private room. The empty space I was talking about is big enough to put a futon next to the window; and I only say futon because it runs into the space underneath a shelf so the futon would allow for some height forgiveness. But a comfortable loveseat could easily fit there as well. The window is large and opens up just a little, so not a whole lot of air circulation and there’s no air conditioning here (although it is a tad more uncomfortable than I like after traveling so much, it’s pretty much like being back home in Murray where I only have a fan in my room). There is, however, a large heater. It’s the white kind with the coils and I’m pretty sure is gas run.Oh… but there are community baths. I had applied for a hall with private baths for the rooms, but the program changed some of the living arrangements. The fact it is across from my room helps a little, but it is still a little daunting for me… I don’t do well with sharing my hygienic space. The bathroom door opens to reveal two sides; to the immediate left and right there are WC’s (water closets = the toilet). The doors on my floor have been cutely segregated by gender via small sharpie drawings, one depicting a round-faceless figure wearing a dress and on the other door graces another expressionless character that sports a tie. There isn’t a urinal in the other one. I just think they made separate bathrooms to draw a line somewhere. The toilets are fun as well... and by fun I mean I try not to think about germs. It isn’t the whole toilet just the flushing mechanism which is a large button on the tank that you push. I try not to think about the germs crawling on that button. But then the hall splits into two again, each side containing one shower and two sinks with mirrors over them. There is a window and heater in each bath as well. What makes the community bath thing not so bad is the fact each section locks. The WC’s lock but then the two bath sections also have doors that lock; no fear of someone wanting to take a shower while you brush your teeth or vise versa. The community baths at Murray are far less elegant. And far more disgusting. I have ventured out; down the street and a street light away, there’s a little shopping area. There’s a small bakery (my wish has come true… less than a five minute walk for fresh bread! In Mexico I had a 15 minute walk to the school and then a 7 minute walk to the bakery), a newsstand, and a few other little things I didn’t really look at. I was more concerned about getting something to drink… anything. This thirst thing is a miserable issue at the moment. However, I had some issues about where to walk. There’s two sidewalks: one for walking the other for biking. It took me a few minutes to understand this although some people walk on the “bikewalk.” …and just an hour ago I realized my cell phone charger will work with an adapter…
Ugh. I’m going to bed. Cheers.
¡Estoy volviendo!
I need to learn that level of conversational fluency in German now... fat chance I'll get there before I leave!
So, this is my first official blog since returning. I do have something I saved on my computer that I wrote for the blog on the day I arrived and, thus, provides insight into initial impressions as well as someone punch drunk on jet lag. LOTS of jet lag. It is an inside joke between those who know me well that I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat in an almost narcoleptic fashion. It was only through the use of those skills that I was able to successfully overcome the horror and misery that is jet lag. Well, that and I had experience working midnights this summer. It was pretty much the same thing: your waking hours become your sleeping hours and all of a sudden you've become an owl (no intention of making a play off of my user name or blog address).
So... what's new? Let's see. Obviously, I am writing this in the comfort of my dormitory: Friedrich-Ebert-Heim, Hausnummer 1A, Zimmer 3018, Regensburg, 93059. I have started my studies in elementary German and have learned invaluable phrases such as, "Ich weiB nicht (I don't know)" and "Nein, danke (No, thank you)." I've also learned how to say, "I would like..." when ordering food, but couldn't spell it to save my life.
And as this is Germany, the subject of beer must be approached. Just as fact, the three breweries within the limits of Regensburg donate money to charities related the elderly, orphans, and the boy's choir of the Dom (St. Peter's Cathedral). So, we are reminded that each time we drink we are doing something charitable. My contributions have not been as large as others. However, I have tried a variety of beers in half litre quantities (yes... liters. The liter portions are enormous). But I will write a seperate blog on beer information and my opinons of each, PLUS some nifty German words thrown in to explain the meaning of the names! Exciting, nein? Ja.
So. For this little blog, I will demonstrate my mastery of the German language:
Guten tag! Ich heiBe Kim. Wie heiBt du? (or Wie heiBen Sie, for formal). Ich komme aus Murray, KY. Und du? Ich habe Hunger. Wie geht's? (or Wie geht es Ihnen, for formal). Ich möchte auf die WC gehen. Ciao!
Translation: Good day! I am called Kim. What are you called? I come from Murray, KY. And you? I have hunger. How is it going? I would like to use the water closet. Bye!
You can imagine that I am a big hit over here. Besides Micheal Jackson of course. That is probably the absolute worse thing about being here: Micheal Jackson being alive in the heart of every German I meet. Oh, heavens. And shirts that proclaim in sparkly rhinestone that he was the "King of Pop..." and creepy mannequins dressed in these shirts, one glove, and a hat. "
Other than that, Germany is absolutely lovely. The only culture shock I've experience is the same I had in Mexico: the toilets. For some reason, I am afraid of toilets that are unfamiliar to me. And I don't mean toilets I haven't used before... I am talking about different shapes. Mouths of toilets so wide that even my large tuckus might be in danger of falling into the ceramic cavern that has very little water in it.
Anyhow, I might post the blog I was talking about after I depart from this one.
From seven hours ahead, cheers!
So, this is my first official blog since returning. I do have something I saved on my computer that I wrote for the blog on the day I arrived and, thus, provides insight into initial impressions as well as someone punch drunk on jet lag. LOTS of jet lag. It is an inside joke between those who know me well that I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat in an almost narcoleptic fashion. It was only through the use of those skills that I was able to successfully overcome the horror and misery that is jet lag. Well, that and I had experience working midnights this summer. It was pretty much the same thing: your waking hours become your sleeping hours and all of a sudden you've become an owl (no intention of making a play off of my user name or blog address).
So... what's new? Let's see. Obviously, I am writing this in the comfort of my dormitory: Friedrich-Ebert-Heim, Hausnummer 1A, Zimmer 3018, Regensburg, 93059. I have started my studies in elementary German and have learned invaluable phrases such as, "Ich weiB nicht (I don't know)" and "Nein, danke (No, thank you)." I've also learned how to say, "I would like..." when ordering food, but couldn't spell it to save my life.
And as this is Germany, the subject of beer must be approached. Just as fact, the three breweries within the limits of Regensburg donate money to charities related the elderly, orphans, and the boy's choir of the Dom (St. Peter's Cathedral). So, we are reminded that each time we drink we are doing something charitable. My contributions have not been as large as others. However, I have tried a variety of beers in half litre quantities (yes... liters. The liter portions are enormous). But I will write a seperate blog on beer information and my opinons of each, PLUS some nifty German words thrown in to explain the meaning of the names! Exciting, nein? Ja.
So. For this little blog, I will demonstrate my mastery of the German language:
Guten tag! Ich heiBe Kim. Wie heiBt du? (or Wie heiBen Sie, for formal). Ich komme aus Murray, KY. Und du? Ich habe Hunger. Wie geht's? (or Wie geht es Ihnen, for formal). Ich möchte auf die WC gehen. Ciao!
Translation: Good day! I am called Kim. What are you called? I come from Murray, KY. And you? I have hunger. How is it going? I would like to use the water closet. Bye!
You can imagine that I am a big hit over here. Besides Micheal Jackson of course. That is probably the absolute worse thing about being here: Micheal Jackson being alive in the heart of every German I meet. Oh, heavens. And shirts that proclaim in sparkly rhinestone that he was the "King of Pop..." and creepy mannequins dressed in these shirts, one glove, and a hat. "
Other than that, Germany is absolutely lovely. The only culture shock I've experience is the same I had in Mexico: the toilets. For some reason, I am afraid of toilets that are unfamiliar to me. And I don't mean toilets I haven't used before... I am talking about different shapes. Mouths of toilets so wide that even my large tuckus might be in danger of falling into the ceramic cavern that has very little water in it.
Anyhow, I might post the blog I was talking about after I depart from this one.
From seven hours ahead, cheers!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
8 Hours: 41 Minutes
That's the time I have left.
I'm going to admit to something: As much as I know how many people would love to get out of the country and spend some time somewhere abroad, I will tell you that this feeling is one of dread.
All of a sudden, I don't want to leave. I feel like I suddenly know what it's like to know your time of death. I know it's a little bit of an exaggeration, but that's what this feels like. I am excited. I am anxious to begin classes. I do want to go. But I feel like when it's all said and done and I've returned that my life (and myself) will be so drastically different it will be as if the old me has died.
I can't take this.
Oh well. The adventure goes on anyway at 9:55 am sharp tomorrow. No turning back. I'll see you in Regensburg. Cheers.
I'm going to admit to something: As much as I know how many people would love to get out of the country and spend some time somewhere abroad, I will tell you that this feeling is one of dread.
All of a sudden, I don't want to leave. I feel like I suddenly know what it's like to know your time of death. I know it's a little bit of an exaggeration, but that's what this feels like. I am excited. I am anxious to begin classes. I do want to go. But I feel like when it's all said and done and I've returned that my life (and myself) will be so drastically different it will be as if the old me has died.
I can't take this.
Oh well. The adventure goes on anyway at 9:55 am sharp tomorrow. No turning back. I'll see you in Regensburg. Cheers.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Disclaimer: This will be uncomfortable
So, I have less than 12 hours before I become a time traveler and begin my journey 7 hours in to the future. It will begin small... a small step 1 hour into the future and then I shall travel 13 hours to reach my destination. I'm not sure how the math works out, but I shall be a bona fide time traveler. That's right. Me.
Unfortunately, luggage troubles are plaging me. Both suitcases are being unforgivably large. U.S. Airways simply does not understand the need for allowing women and students larger weight limits. So, I shall spend the rest of the night trying to desperately rearrange my God-forsaken baggage and try not to think about the long flight across the Atlantic Ocean tomorrow.
Oh. And I've discovered that I'll be recycling in Germany. Ok. I didn't JUST discover this. What I really just realized was I was going to have to recycle feminine products in Germany. Yeah. This is the warning: I'm going to be talking about tampons, so you're sufficiently warned.
Anyway, while buying tampons at Walgreen's and suddenly think, "How do you recycle these things?" I've got not a clue. I've checked all the packages and there's nothing. I tried looking at websites and nothing. I tried calling the numbers on the back of the package and all offices are closed.
I looks like I'll be spending some of my time in Philadelphia tomorrow on the phone asking a representative from Playtex and Proctor & Gamble trying to determine how to recycle the cotton and the cardboard box and the plastic applicator... and trying to figure out if it's even sanitary to recycle such items. I mean, you don't recycle toilet paper, right?
So, besides luggage and tampons I'm also pretty nervous. I do have window seats so it's a small consolation. However, I'm still nervous. It's my first time traveling alone and I'm going to be away from familiar faces and places for a little over four months.
I'm trying to stay calm and I'm trying to tell myself it will be ok.
And it will be. Just as soon as I can get this (language warning) fucking luggage sitaution settled.
Cheers.
Unfortunately, luggage troubles are plaging me. Both suitcases are being unforgivably large. U.S. Airways simply does not understand the need for allowing women and students larger weight limits. So, I shall spend the rest of the night trying to desperately rearrange my God-forsaken baggage and try not to think about the long flight across the Atlantic Ocean tomorrow.
Oh. And I've discovered that I'll be recycling in Germany. Ok. I didn't JUST discover this. What I really just realized was I was going to have to recycle feminine products in Germany. Yeah. This is the warning: I'm going to be talking about tampons, so you're sufficiently warned.
Anyway, while buying tampons at Walgreen's and suddenly think, "How do you recycle these things?" I've got not a clue. I've checked all the packages and there's nothing. I tried looking at websites and nothing. I tried calling the numbers on the back of the package and all offices are closed.
I looks like I'll be spending some of my time in Philadelphia tomorrow on the phone asking a representative from Playtex and Proctor & Gamble trying to determine how to recycle the cotton and the cardboard box and the plastic applicator... and trying to figure out if it's even sanitary to recycle such items. I mean, you don't recycle toilet paper, right?
So, besides luggage and tampons I'm also pretty nervous. I do have window seats so it's a small consolation. However, I'm still nervous. It's my first time traveling alone and I'm going to be away from familiar faces and places for a little over four months.
I'm trying to stay calm and I'm trying to tell myself it will be ok.
And it will be. Just as soon as I can get this (language warning) fucking luggage sitaution settled.
Cheers.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
The Art of Blogging?
I've just returned from the movie theatres and I saw "Julie and Julia." Oh dear. While the story is warm and fuzzy (to an extent) it's probably a good spring board for discussion of what it means to blog. I think Julia Child was right to criticize Julie Powell for doing some half-rate blog about cooking every dish detailed in "Mastering the Art of French Cooking."
Julie Powell simply "blogged" her post-musings after cooking all the recipes in Child's most well-known cookbook, not all of them. Child spent years learning the art of French cooking and earned a culinary degree from a French culinary school. But before this, she spent time working for the U.S. government, traveling around the world with the OSS (Office of Strategic Services). Let's face it: this vivacious lady had LOADS of life experience (as well as an BA in English) and lots of ambition to make herself into a better person, wanting to experience life at its fullest and not wanting to have to compromise herself. By "compromise herself," I mean she didn't take short cuts for a quick fix at money and fame *coughjuliepowellcough*. And here's something else to think about: Julie Powell had an extramarital affair right after her Julie/Julia book was published. They've even delayed the publishing of her second book (which talks about the affair) until December of this year. I'm guessing so that when others go to see the movie, they won't think about what a sellout she is and tell others not to see the movie.
Now, I don't mean to judge... I lie. I do. This blog is an good example about how ANYONE can start an adventure and turn it into something. Hell. I'm a college student who's take ONE English class (it was an honors english class and I received an A, by the way) in college and I also study biology and psychology. That means science. That means, I don't aspire to publish a novel/book/memoir. This blog is only meant to be a quick means of chronicling my 100 days (give or take). I will actually be keeping several travel journals on a daily basis while living in Regensburg, Germany. That means physical, creative work.
So, my final word on blogs: I think that the whole business of blogging as a career source or quick fix at becoming "known" equals crap. I feel as if our generation is missing the point of hard work as a means to the end of a polished, finished project. Blogging is a quick way to play pretend and act like you're doing something insightful or what have you. In the end, you aren't going to be the next Charles Dickens (or Julia Child, Julie Powell.) In the science field, we don't "blog" about our research. We actually have it published after LOTS of repeating and editting and changing. Oh. And hard work. Yes, we use a computer to type out our findings but we use a blank slate (I use Microsoft Word 2007). I'm sorry for those of you who blog profusely and feel it is your only outlet to express yourself to the world, but if Emily Dickinson and Edgar Allan Poe could do it so can you.
As for this blog, it's for my friends, family, voyeurs, and I. It's just a quick record of my memories.
As for Julia Child: rest in peace, m'am. The world lost a good thing years ago but we're glad to have had you. I will forever remember my first time seeing you de-boning a fish and dropping it on the floor and letting me know that, "It's alright. No one else will ever know!" You gave me the confidence to cook and the ambition to become a better woman. You were always one of my heroes.
Cheers!
Julie Powell simply "blogged" her post-musings after cooking all the recipes in Child's most well-known cookbook, not all of them. Child spent years learning the art of French cooking and earned a culinary degree from a French culinary school. But before this, she spent time working for the U.S. government, traveling around the world with the OSS (Office of Strategic Services). Let's face it: this vivacious lady had LOADS of life experience (as well as an BA in English) and lots of ambition to make herself into a better person, wanting to experience life at its fullest and not wanting to have to compromise herself. By "compromise herself," I mean she didn't take short cuts for a quick fix at money and fame *coughjuliepowellcough*. And here's something else to think about: Julie Powell had an extramarital affair right after her Julie/Julia book was published. They've even delayed the publishing of her second book (which talks about the affair) until December of this year. I'm guessing so that when others go to see the movie, they won't think about what a sellout she is and tell others not to see the movie.
Now, I don't mean to judge... I lie. I do. This blog is an good example about how ANYONE can start an adventure and turn it into something. Hell. I'm a college student who's take ONE English class (it was an honors english class and I received an A, by the way) in college and I also study biology and psychology. That means science. That means, I don't aspire to publish a novel/book/memoir. This blog is only meant to be a quick means of chronicling my 100 days (give or take). I will actually be keeping several travel journals on a daily basis while living in Regensburg, Germany. That means physical, creative work.
So, my final word on blogs: I think that the whole business of blogging as a career source or quick fix at becoming "known" equals crap. I feel as if our generation is missing the point of hard work as a means to the end of a polished, finished project. Blogging is a quick way to play pretend and act like you're doing something insightful or what have you. In the end, you aren't going to be the next Charles Dickens (or Julia Child, Julie Powell.) In the science field, we don't "blog" about our research. We actually have it published after LOTS of repeating and editting and changing. Oh. And hard work. Yes, we use a computer to type out our findings but we use a blank slate (I use Microsoft Word 2007). I'm sorry for those of you who blog profusely and feel it is your only outlet to express yourself to the world, but if Emily Dickinson and Edgar Allan Poe could do it so can you.
As for this blog, it's for my friends, family, voyeurs, and I. It's just a quick record of my memories.
As for Julia Child: rest in peace, m'am. The world lost a good thing years ago but we're glad to have had you. I will forever remember my first time seeing you de-boning a fish and dropping it on the floor and letting me know that, "It's alright. No one else will ever know!" You gave me the confidence to cook and the ambition to become a better woman. You were always one of my heroes.
Cheers!
Saturday, August 15, 2009
The heart is a silly thing
Desperately, I've wondered what's wrong with me. I feel as if I'm a reasonable person, a clear-headed female with definite goals in mind for my life.
So what the hell is wrong with me? This might hurt someone if I write this but I have to be honest. I have to be completely honest: the fact of the matter is that maybe my silly girlish notions are working overtime. That part of my heart that was broken refused to grow up after it was torn and ripped and burnt in the intensity of a tumultuous yet short relationship.
That silly little barely-fixed part of my heart recently was brought back to life and I'm trying to desperately tell it to shut up and get on with life. I'm trying to tell it that the person who brought it back to life was the person who cruelly abused and used it and then tossed it away so easily. Even now I see for myself that it is more of the same as it used to be and yet my silly foolish smallish part keeps thinking such silly things.
Silly things such as, "What if this could work out again?" "What if won't be like the last time?" "What if this could magically be so much better?"
And then I again try desperately to tell it to quiet down.
And then the smallish part of my heart whispers oh so silently, "But what if?"
And there's a small part of me that wants to listen. There's a small part that doesn't mind listening, entertaining the notion.
Cheers.
So what the hell is wrong with me? This might hurt someone if I write this but I have to be honest. I have to be completely honest: the fact of the matter is that maybe my silly girlish notions are working overtime. That part of my heart that was broken refused to grow up after it was torn and ripped and burnt in the intensity of a tumultuous yet short relationship.
That silly little barely-fixed part of my heart recently was brought back to life and I'm trying to desperately tell it to shut up and get on with life. I'm trying to tell it that the person who brought it back to life was the person who cruelly abused and used it and then tossed it away so easily. Even now I see for myself that it is more of the same as it used to be and yet my silly foolish smallish part keeps thinking such silly things.
Silly things such as, "What if this could work out again?" "What if won't be like the last time?" "What if this could magically be so much better?"
And then I again try desperately to tell it to quiet down.
And then the smallish part of my heart whispers oh so silently, "But what if?"
And there's a small part of me that wants to listen. There's a small part that doesn't mind listening, entertaining the notion.
Cheers.
The Doldrums
I had a horrible migraine last night that was so severe I became extremely nauseated. What this meant was no dinner and a lortab fix with looming drug haze over my mind this morning. What worries me is this is only a little under four days away from stepping onto the plane that will take me to Philedelphia... and eventually (after a three hour flight, a six hour, and THEN a thirteen hour flight) to the airport in Munich, Germany.
I'm having my serious doubts at this point. I'm worried about not making friends and not being able to keep up with only twelve hours worth of classes. Mostly I'm worried that it will be Mexico all over again. Oh, and my camcorder is giving me grief.
Oh... I want to not come back from Germany. The idea of coming back to the states is also a stressful thought.
Cheers.
I'm having my serious doubts at this point. I'm worried about not making friends and not being able to keep up with only twelve hours worth of classes. Mostly I'm worried that it will be Mexico all over again. Oh, and my camcorder is giving me grief.
Oh... I want to not come back from Germany. The idea of coming back to the states is also a stressful thought.
Cheers.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Admit it.
Currently, I have realized that what I feared all summer has come to fruition: I've procrastinated, once again, and will now be on a mad dash on completing my not-really-assigned reading assignment:
Günter Grass's classic The Tin Drum. The first in the Danzig Trilogy (Danzig being the German name for a city in Poland, the Polish name being Gdańsk... it's confusing), the novel is wonderful so far. I'm now entering the 9th chapter in which there should be an allusion to the Kristallnacht. However, I was more gung-ho about this novel before certain events transpired that made me a little discouraged about finishing it in a timely manner... be that as it may, it's neither here nor now.
But I doubt anyone has interest in my latest reading adventures.
What you'd really like to hear about is my crazy ex-boyfriend sending me text messages about eternal love still "smoldering" in his broken little heart. Well, forget it. I refuse to indulge anyone in that kind of personal manner... although I will admit it would be easier if the last six years could just vanish.
And that makes me wonder why have I chosen the boys that I have? It must be something deeply rooted within my psyche that tells me to look for the most horrible traits in a man for a relationship (and thus ending up with boys). I ended up with one that was so controlling and domineering I barely had friends or a life outside of him; it wasn't until college I realized every time he mentioned the phrases "true love" or "fairy tale romance," what he really wanted was a shallow girl who would be a stay-at-home mom and have a lot of kids and no job. And the other boy... well. I don't even think he cared remembering anything about it. There was a couple of occasions he called me a couple of different names before remembering my name was simply "Kim." He didn't care if I reached out or called or wanted to hang out. If there wasn't a monetary or physical gain for him, he would just as soon as deleted my number from his cell phone. Even now, trying to be friends with him is a chore because he is so desperately apathetic.
So, why is it now, when there is a sweet and caring man in my life that I am so hesitant to begin a relationship with him? He's absolutely perfect, no kidding. Most girls will say that about any guy they pine for, but I'm serious. I've never seen anything about him that would make me second guess a thing. Of course he's hopelessly handsome. He has eyes that could charm bark off of wood and a smile that could melt the sun... I realize I'm waxing poetic here. Allow me some license.
However, he's kind and thoughtful. He always wants to talk to me about anything that's going on. If I don't feel like talking, he gives me space. He's level-headed enough to make sure I don't go crazy with all my ideas. But he's also endearingly patient. His patience, I'm sure, is tried with me everyday. But he is slow to anger and even slow to anger when it comes to me; I can't even recall a time when he was angry at me... maybe disappointed, but not angry.
Oh, and he tolerates my cats. Enough said right there in my opinion.
So, I don't know why I have so much trouble saying, "Yes," to him. I'll admit there are times when, more often than not, I feel inadequate. And this might be attributed to the fact that other boys have treated me with such cruelty and indifference that I might actually believe that I deserved that kind of treatment. Yet, I don't consciously think those things. I know that I am not responsible for the actions of others.
But I'm still having trouble giving myself the greenlight to ease into another relationship, no matter how temporary it might be.
Well, I'm off to bed now. Until later, cheers.
Günter Grass's classic The Tin Drum. The first in the Danzig Trilogy (Danzig being the German name for a city in Poland, the Polish name being Gdańsk... it's confusing), the novel is wonderful so far. I'm now entering the 9th chapter in which there should be an allusion to the Kristallnacht. However, I was more gung-ho about this novel before certain events transpired that made me a little discouraged about finishing it in a timely manner... be that as it may, it's neither here nor now.
But I doubt anyone has interest in my latest reading adventures.
What you'd really like to hear about is my crazy ex-boyfriend sending me text messages about eternal love still "smoldering" in his broken little heart. Well, forget it. I refuse to indulge anyone in that kind of personal manner... although I will admit it would be easier if the last six years could just vanish.
And that makes me wonder why have I chosen the boys that I have? It must be something deeply rooted within my psyche that tells me to look for the most horrible traits in a man for a relationship (and thus ending up with boys). I ended up with one that was so controlling and domineering I barely had friends or a life outside of him; it wasn't until college I realized every time he mentioned the phrases "true love" or "fairy tale romance," what he really wanted was a shallow girl who would be a stay-at-home mom and have a lot of kids and no job. And the other boy... well. I don't even think he cared remembering anything about it. There was a couple of occasions he called me a couple of different names before remembering my name was simply "Kim." He didn't care if I reached out or called or wanted to hang out. If there wasn't a monetary or physical gain for him, he would just as soon as deleted my number from his cell phone. Even now, trying to be friends with him is a chore because he is so desperately apathetic.
So, why is it now, when there is a sweet and caring man in my life that I am so hesitant to begin a relationship with him? He's absolutely perfect, no kidding. Most girls will say that about any guy they pine for, but I'm serious. I've never seen anything about him that would make me second guess a thing. Of course he's hopelessly handsome. He has eyes that could charm bark off of wood and a smile that could melt the sun... I realize I'm waxing poetic here. Allow me some license.
However, he's kind and thoughtful. He always wants to talk to me about anything that's going on. If I don't feel like talking, he gives me space. He's level-headed enough to make sure I don't go crazy with all my ideas. But he's also endearingly patient. His patience, I'm sure, is tried with me everyday. But he is slow to anger and even slow to anger when it comes to me; I can't even recall a time when he was angry at me... maybe disappointed, but not angry.
Oh, and he tolerates my cats. Enough said right there in my opinion.
So, I don't know why I have so much trouble saying, "Yes," to him. I'll admit there are times when, more often than not, I feel inadequate. And this might be attributed to the fact that other boys have treated me with such cruelty and indifference that I might actually believe that I deserved that kind of treatment. Yet, I don't consciously think those things. I know that I am not responsible for the actions of others.
But I'm still having trouble giving myself the greenlight to ease into another relationship, no matter how temporary it might be.
Well, I'm off to bed now. Until later, cheers.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
We've Moved!
After a little spell with livejournal, I wasn't completely happy with the interface... I need it to be extremely user friendly because I am trying to desperately prepare for a trip to Germany.
Anyhow. Welcome if you're new, welcome back if you were just beginning to follow my old blog. Cheers!
Anyhow. Welcome if you're new, welcome back if you were just beginning to follow my old blog. Cheers!
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Who's writing this thing?
- The Little Wandering Owl
- Every real and searching effort at self-improvement is, of itself, a lesson of profound humanity.