I was nattering on about some clarinet related intrigue at work today, and my good friend and teaching partner Lyn had a Tourette's like outburst and screamed "NERD ALERT!" I couldn't help but laugh, because it really is true. I submit the following evidence to support my claim:
1) This weekend, I spent about three hours transposing music from the key of Eb to the key of Bb. This isn't the most difficult of transpositions, and I used to be able to do things like that quickly and easily. However, given the fact that I haven't done any sort of music theory ANYTHING for about two and a half years, it seemed incredibly difficult and took me FOREVER. But I kind of enjoyed it.
2) I was checking my email and had received an email from some travel website that I once booked a ticket with. The subject of the email was "Book Cruises: Something for Everyone!" When I read this, my knee-jerk response was "A BOOK cruise?! That's the kind of cruise I could really get behind!" Then I realized book was being used as a verb not an adjective to describe the type of cruise, and felt very sheepish.
What can I say, it's just how I roll.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
I Love Adele and Dislike Peppy Satan
I've been a fan of Adele for a long time, and have always loved listening to her music. I'd listened to her new album 21 a few times but hadn't become obsessed with it, which is what happened with her last one and what I expected to happen with this one.
I don't know why- maybe the timing just wasn't right, maybe I was too busy being obsessed with Urinetown (gimme a break, I'm playing ALL the reed parts for a production of this show in a few weeks and one of the ways I relieve my anxiety at playing my first show in almost exactly three years is by memorizing the soundtrack), or maybe I just wasn't feeling soulful enough.
Then, this Friday I had the pleasure of having a dinner/wine/vinyl evening with my good friends Kate and Sebastian. We often have dinner/wine/vinyl nights, because they both happen to be lovers of fine wine, and Sebastian has the most extensive and varied vinyl collection of anyone I know. He LOVES listening to records so much that it's hard for me not to start feeling equally amorous toward the practice. So this Friday I had the treat of listening to the aforementioned Adele album on vinyl. She sounds good in any format, but as Sebastian has told me before, records sound so much warmer and more beautiful than CD's or MP3's. I never really understood what he meant until I listened to this particular album, and now I completely agree.
The whole point of this little story is that my obsession with Adele's new album was officially ignited on Friday night, and I haven't stopped listening to it since. I wish I could sing like her, but since I can't I will settle for putting her tracks on repeat. And demanding my vocally gifted little sister learn to sing and play all of Adele's songs.
In other news, my battle with the 10k training continues, and I'm starting to panic that I won't be ready by May. I don't have many fond feelings toward training at the moment, and consider the peppy guy at the gym who insists on correcting my treadmill form ALL THE TIME, to be Satan personified. I always try and pull the "Ich habe dich nicht verstanden!" trick, but then he just talks slower and starts touching my legs and hips in a decidedly uncomfortable fashion. I think it might be time to start running outside...I'd rather brave the mean streets of the Dresden Neustadt than have peppy Satanic gym trainer fondle my under-toned lower half.
A friend of mine sent me this awhile ago, and I decided to re-post it as an ode to my own personal gym Satan.
Here's to hoping we all have a Treadmill Satan free week.
I don't know why- maybe the timing just wasn't right, maybe I was too busy being obsessed with Urinetown (gimme a break, I'm playing ALL the reed parts for a production of this show in a few weeks and one of the ways I relieve my anxiety at playing my first show in almost exactly three years is by memorizing the soundtrack), or maybe I just wasn't feeling soulful enough.
Then, this Friday I had the pleasure of having a dinner/wine/vinyl evening with my good friends Kate and Sebastian. We often have dinner/wine/vinyl nights, because they both happen to be lovers of fine wine, and Sebastian has the most extensive and varied vinyl collection of anyone I know. He LOVES listening to records so much that it's hard for me not to start feeling equally amorous toward the practice. So this Friday I had the treat of listening to the aforementioned Adele album on vinyl. She sounds good in any format, but as Sebastian has told me before, records sound so much warmer and more beautiful than CD's or MP3's. I never really understood what he meant until I listened to this particular album, and now I completely agree.
The whole point of this little story is that my obsession with Adele's new album was officially ignited on Friday night, and I haven't stopped listening to it since. I wish I could sing like her, but since I can't I will settle for putting her tracks on repeat. And demanding my vocally gifted little sister learn to sing and play all of Adele's songs.
In other news, my battle with the 10k training continues, and I'm starting to panic that I won't be ready by May. I don't have many fond feelings toward training at the moment, and consider the peppy guy at the gym who insists on correcting my treadmill form ALL THE TIME, to be Satan personified. I always try and pull the "Ich habe dich nicht verstanden!" trick, but then he just talks slower and starts touching my legs and hips in a decidedly uncomfortable fashion. I think it might be time to start running outside...I'd rather brave the mean streets of the Dresden Neustadt than have peppy Satanic gym trainer fondle my under-toned lower half.
A friend of mine sent me this awhile ago, and I decided to re-post it as an ode to my own personal gym Satan.
Dear Diary, For my birthday this year, I purchased a week of personal training at the local health club. Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.Friends seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.________________________________ MONDAY:Started my day at 6:00 am. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo waiting for me.He is something of a Greek god-- with blond hair, dancing eyes, and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!Christo gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!Christo was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around.This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!________________________________ TUESDAY:I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then he put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. His rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT!It'sa whole new life for me._______________________________ WEDNESDAY:The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Christo put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Christo told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other shit too._______________________________ THURSDAY:Asshole was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late-- it took me that long to tie my shoes.He took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny bitch to find me.Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine-- which I sank._________________________________ FRIDAY:I hate that bastard Christo more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic, little aerobics instructor. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.Christo wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher.Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?________________________________ SATURDAY:Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing his voice made me want to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel..________________________________ SUNDAY:I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my husband will choose a gift for me that is fun-- like a root canal or a hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
WTF, Jane Eyre?!
I've been looking forward to this movie coming out for roughly two months. Ever since I heard about it on one of the mindless but ADDICTIVE celebrity gossip blogs my sassy gay friend has introduced to me. Yes, I read them. Yes, I enjoy them. Don't judge.
But I digress! I love Jane Eyre! LOVE HER, I TELL YOU. When I saw the trailer for this movie I thought to myself, "Wow, looks like someone might have finally made a worthwhile and enjoyable movie adaptation!" Not to mention, Michael Fassbender is pretty easy on the eyes.
So I let my excitement grow. I read that it would be released in the US and Canada in early March, so I figured it would be released in Germany probably by April or May, at the latest by June. Usually the movie release dates are one to two months behind here, unless it's something huge like.....well, the only example I can think of right now is Harry Potter, and then I start snickering to myself about the joke possibilities when you combine "huge" and "Harry Potter" in the same sentence. So just trust me on this one.
This back story is leading up to something, I swear. This morning, as I was checking out NPR.org, (as I like to do on Sundays- it's a rock star lifestyle I lead.) I saw an article about Jane Eyre, which made me curious as to when it would be released here. So I went on a little internet hunt to find some answers.
Well, I found my answers. And I almost wish I hadn't. Ignorance sometimes really IS bliss. At least not knowing would have saved me from the rage I'm currently experiencing. Why?
Because Jane Eyre is not being released in Germany until September. SEPTEMBER. That's six months from now!! Why do those dirty sons of b-tches in the States get to enjoy this movie a full six months before European audiences?! And to further the outrage, the movie isn't even being released in the UK until September either! The movie was produced partially by the BBC...doesn't that at least warrant the British an earlier release date?! And lest you think I have real sympathy for the British, I'm really only upset about it because my back up plan was to go to London over the summer and see it then. Shit balls, foiled again.
All I want is a little big screen Bronte in my life. Is that so much to ask?! I think not.
This all boils down to one thing: North America: 1. Everywhere Else: NEGATIVE ONE MILLION.
But I digress! I love Jane Eyre! LOVE HER, I TELL YOU. When I saw the trailer for this movie I thought to myself, "Wow, looks like someone might have finally made a worthwhile and enjoyable movie adaptation!" Not to mention, Michael Fassbender is pretty easy on the eyes.
So I let my excitement grow. I read that it would be released in the US and Canada in early March, so I figured it would be released in Germany probably by April or May, at the latest by June. Usually the movie release dates are one to two months behind here, unless it's something huge like.....well, the only example I can think of right now is Harry Potter, and then I start snickering to myself about the joke possibilities when you combine "huge" and "Harry Potter" in the same sentence. So just trust me on this one.
This back story is leading up to something, I swear. This morning, as I was checking out NPR.org, (as I like to do on Sundays- it's a rock star lifestyle I lead.) I saw an article about Jane Eyre, which made me curious as to when it would be released here. So I went on a little internet hunt to find some answers.
Well, I found my answers. And I almost wish I hadn't. Ignorance sometimes really IS bliss. At least not knowing would have saved me from the rage I'm currently experiencing. Why?
Because Jane Eyre is not being released in Germany until September. SEPTEMBER. That's six months from now!! Why do those dirty sons of b-tches in the States get to enjoy this movie a full six months before European audiences?! And to further the outrage, the movie isn't even being released in the UK until September either! The movie was produced partially by the BBC...doesn't that at least warrant the British an earlier release date?! And lest you think I have real sympathy for the British, I'm really only upset about it because my back up plan was to go to London over the summer and see it then. Shit balls, foiled again.
All I want is a little big screen Bronte in my life. Is that so much to ask?! I think not.
This all boils down to one thing: North America: 1. Everywhere Else: NEGATIVE ONE MILLION.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Thar She Blows!
Unfortunately, I haven't been whale watching....it's just very windy at the moment. Almost comically windy- I'm waiting for my closed and locked glass door to come crashing open and a little bird to be blown inside, chirping hysterically while struggling furiously against the gale. Or something along those lines; I think I've been watching too many "severe weather" videos on the Weather Channel website. As many of you may know, I'm slightly obsessed with severe weather and one of my weekend hobbies is to tune into the meteorological hijinks going on around this crazy planet of ours. I just can't seem to help myself, even though I know it's a big fat waste of my time. But come on, thunder snow?! Just try and tell me that isn't fascinating and semi-apocalyptic. I think it's high time we got Dennis Quaid to revive his role from the blockbuster hit The Day After Tomorrow, because as my brother so aptly put it when I mentioned this to him on the phone last night, "Well Bri, if anyone can save the world, it's Dennis Quaid." Ah, I knew we shared more than just genetics, my genius brother.
I could blather on all day about my love of severe weather and movies featuring it as a precursor to the end of the world, but I'll move on. I'm currently listening to this live recording of Adele, courtesy of NPR.org. If you haven't listened to her, START. I love her voice, and after listening to her live, she seems to be pretty sassy as well. I'm trying to figure out how I can temporarily switch my iTunes to the German version, because her new album is already for sale here in Germany, but won't come out in the US until later in the month. My iTunes is currently (and illegally) set to the US version, because most of the time I prefer having the option of purchasing American entertainment, rather than German. Nothing against German entertainment- having American iTunes makes me feel like I'm not quite as out of the US pop-culture loop as I actually, in reality, am.
Speaking of American versus German culture, this American has decided to stay in Germany another year. I think most of my frequent readers are already aware of that fact, but who doesn't love making a blog announcement? To be honest, it was more about job security and lack of employment opportunities in the US than being so in love with Germany that I never want to leave...but I'm happy with my decision. At least, most of the time. Yesterday's shenanigans with the ever mind-boggling German banking system made me question both my sanity and decision to stay in this country.
So, I lost my EC card, which is essentially the German variety of debit card. Yes, I know this was ridiculous and irresponsible, but I think the fact I've made it this far in my adult life without losing something like a debit card is the thing to really focus on here. I discovered it was missing on Wednesday night, after not having used it for a week because I was stuck at home sick. After searching my apartment, various purses/bags, and calling the last place I remembered using it, I concluded that it was time to admit defeat and order a new one. That part worked out fine- the teller at the bank was incredibly helpful and spoke English, and made me feel much better about the whole situation. But THEN. I asked if I could make a cash withdrawal so that I would have some money to live on until my new card arrived next week. Response: NOPE! The trick bitch bank branch (accidental alliteration right there!) I was at only allows cash withdrawals until 2 PM. What the hell? People magically stop needing cash after 2 PM? Gimme a break. However, the friendly bank teller assured me that the branch near school was open until 4 PM on Fridays, and would still be giving out cash until then. Cheered by this fact, I planned to just go there the following day. So yesterday arrives, I hightail it out of work at 3:30 and walk as fast as my little legs would carry me over to the bank. Walking into the foyer/ATM area outside the bank, I was hopeful and looking forward to the prospect of having some cash for the weekend. I walk up to the bank entrance door, give it a hearty push and.....nothing. I jiggled the door....nothing. I jiggled the door more forcefully and gave it a little kick for good measure...nothing. The stupid place was CLOSED. I looked at the opening hours posted to the right of the door, and discovered that they'd been closed for a good two hours. So, not only had I left work early and hustled over for no reason, but I'd been TRICKED by the lady at the other bank. Bitches, one and all. My frustration level being extremely high, I decided to give the door another forceful jiggle/kick and mutter obscenities under my breath. I undertook this enterprise right as another customer walked in...and upon witnessing my door related fury, walked right back out again.
Thus, I am spending the weekend with about 3 bucks and a simmering rage at the German banking system in general. Good thing I decided to stay another year.
I could blather on all day about my love of severe weather and movies featuring it as a precursor to the end of the world, but I'll move on. I'm currently listening to this live recording of Adele, courtesy of NPR.org. If you haven't listened to her, START. I love her voice, and after listening to her live, she seems to be pretty sassy as well. I'm trying to figure out how I can temporarily switch my iTunes to the German version, because her new album is already for sale here in Germany, but won't come out in the US until later in the month. My iTunes is currently (and illegally) set to the US version, because most of the time I prefer having the option of purchasing American entertainment, rather than German. Nothing against German entertainment- having American iTunes makes me feel like I'm not quite as out of the US pop-culture loop as I actually, in reality, am.
Speaking of American versus German culture, this American has decided to stay in Germany another year. I think most of my frequent readers are already aware of that fact, but who doesn't love making a blog announcement? To be honest, it was more about job security and lack of employment opportunities in the US than being so in love with Germany that I never want to leave...but I'm happy with my decision. At least, most of the time. Yesterday's shenanigans with the ever mind-boggling German banking system made me question both my sanity and decision to stay in this country.
So, I lost my EC card, which is essentially the German variety of debit card. Yes, I know this was ridiculous and irresponsible, but I think the fact I've made it this far in my adult life without losing something like a debit card is the thing to really focus on here. I discovered it was missing on Wednesday night, after not having used it for a week because I was stuck at home sick. After searching my apartment, various purses/bags, and calling the last place I remembered using it, I concluded that it was time to admit defeat and order a new one. That part worked out fine- the teller at the bank was incredibly helpful and spoke English, and made me feel much better about the whole situation. But THEN. I asked if I could make a cash withdrawal so that I would have some money to live on until my new card arrived next week. Response: NOPE! The trick bitch bank branch (accidental alliteration right there!) I was at only allows cash withdrawals until 2 PM. What the hell? People magically stop needing cash after 2 PM? Gimme a break. However, the friendly bank teller assured me that the branch near school was open until 4 PM on Fridays, and would still be giving out cash until then. Cheered by this fact, I planned to just go there the following day. So yesterday arrives, I hightail it out of work at 3:30 and walk as fast as my little legs would carry me over to the bank. Walking into the foyer/ATM area outside the bank, I was hopeful and looking forward to the prospect of having some cash for the weekend. I walk up to the bank entrance door, give it a hearty push and.....nothing. I jiggled the door....nothing. I jiggled the door more forcefully and gave it a little kick for good measure...nothing. The stupid place was CLOSED. I looked at the opening hours posted to the right of the door, and discovered that they'd been closed for a good two hours. So, not only had I left work early and hustled over for no reason, but I'd been TRICKED by the lady at the other bank. Bitches, one and all. My frustration level being extremely high, I decided to give the door another forceful jiggle/kick and mutter obscenities under my breath. I undertook this enterprise right as another customer walked in...and upon witnessing my door related fury, walked right back out again.
Thus, I am spending the weekend with about 3 bucks and a simmering rage at the German banking system in general. Good thing I decided to stay another year.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
September/October: Superclass, Trevor Gets Married, "Are You Sure You're Not Pregnant?", und Freiheit.
When I have a lot of material to cover, I find subtitles to be extremely helpful. I hope you do too.
Superclass
My class this year is, in a word, unbelievable. We just finished up the seventh week of school, and I'm still in a state of bliss most of the time at work. I am convinced now that karma does exist, and that this is the universe's way of saying "Hey, I realize you had some serious shenanigans and hijinks to deal with the past two years. I see now that I used up almost all of your patience and made you feel like you were taking crazy pills most days. So here you go. Have these kids. They'll make up for it."
All I can say is- thanks for throwing me a frickin' bone, universe. These kids do, in fact, make up for every second of insanity I've dealt with the past two years. They're all sweet, hilarious, happy little people. I love being around them, I love teaching them, I love working hard for them.
I like to refer to them collectively as Superclass....I have big plans to get them all matching Captain Planet save the earth rings. It's gonna happen.
Trevor Gets Married
My older brother, Trevor, was married to the lovely Maureen McGinty about two weeks ago. I flew back to the US for six days to be in the wedding....and it was insane. In a great way. First of all, flying from Germany to Oregon just for a wedding SOUNDS kind of glamorous. Let me tell you- it's not. 20 hours of travel, US Airways (they suck...hard), a nine hour time difference, a weekend of working twelve hour to prepare for a substitute teacher before leaving, and lack of sleep all made for....insanity. However, I was so pumped for all the festivities that it didn't even matter all that much. There were so many people to see, so many things to do, dresses to wear, wine to drink, American food to eat...that I powered through the jet lag to have a fantastic time.
The rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, wedding and reception were all ridiculously fun. Everything went pretty much according to plan and I only cried a little bit. My brother looked pretty sharp in his Army uniform, Maureen looked smokin' hot in her gorgeous wedding dress, and my fellow bridesmaids and I looked fabulous in our blue dresses. Also, the Crystal Ballroom in downtown Portland? Best reception venue EVER. Don't dispute me. It's true.
One of my favorite parts of this wedding trip was an evening/afternoon that had absolutely nothing to do with the wedding. The day after I flew in, still three days before the wedding, I was visiting my friends in Portland, thinking my brother was still in Washington. Then that night I get a call from him, demanding I meet him at the T Room. The T Room, for those of you who don't know, is the loving (ish) name used by all University of Portland students for the Twilight Room, a dive bar in North Portland. I deliberated for awhile about whether or not I should go (thanks for putting up with that, Jeff), because I was exhausted, was supposed to be driving back to Salem that night, etc. I ended up going, and it turned out to be a great decision. My brother's two old buddies Garth and Joe were there as well, and it was so fun to hang out with them again. They featured prominently in some of my early college days, so it was just like old times...only better, because I could actually get into the bar legally now. We had a couple beers, made fun of the...unique individuals doing karaoke, and then went on a walk to the gas station and back. This sounds pretty lame, but hilarity ensued. Then the next day I met up with Trevor and Garth for lunch at our favorite sushi place, which was something Trev and I used to do in Portland all the time. I can't find the words to describe how happy these simple things made me, but I just felt like I was bursting with joy and contentment. I have a suspicion it was mostly because I was spending time with my brother again- but I think going back to some of our old haunts had to do with it as well.
I still can't believe my one and only brother is married, but I couldn't be happier about it. I'll remember his wedding and the fun that we had together throughout the whole thing forever.
"Are You Sure You're Not Pregnant?"
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would hear this phrase uttered in a professional workplace setting. Turns out my dreams just aren't wild enough.
Wednesday, I woke up and was feeling nauseated, but figured it had to do with the enormous dinner I ate at a South African restaurant the night before. I went through my morning at school feeling ok, but skipped lunch because I still had some rumbly going on in the tumbly. I had parent conferences starting at 12:30, and at approximately 12:20 I had that twitchy feeling in my throat that has always been a signal that vomiting is imminent. I ran to the bathroom and puked my guts out for about ten minutes, cursing South African food, the fact that I had a parent waiting for me, and the universe all at the same time. I managed to stumble out of the bathroom about ten minutes later, and decided the best course of action was to just get through the conference with the woman who was already waiting for me, and then see how things went from there. In retrospect, this logic seems flawed, but I'd like to see how well you reason things out when you've just emptied the contents of your digestive tract and then have a stern German woman sitting in your classroom, staring you down and judging you for your smudged mascara.
About 20 minutes into said conference, I got that twitchy throat feeling again. Trying to hide my panic at the thought of tossing my cookies all over this pristine and perfectly dressed woman, I wrapped things up while clenching my teeth and smiling like an insane jester. I heard somewhere that this fights the gag reflex, and I think it worked...long enough for me to shove the mom out into the hall and run to the bathroom again. Cue vomit session number 2.
By this time I was able to accept the fact that I might have to go home. I wobbled back out into the hallway, and ran into the next mom on the way. She cheerfully inquired as to her appointment time. I looked at her with watering, bloodshot eyes and tried not to breathe too much of my puke breath on her as I said "I just threw up. I think I need to cancel." Could I have said this more eloquently? Most definitely, but I was going more for "get the point across before I lose my lunch again all over the hallway floor." I did explain that I thought I had food poisoning and really needed to go home for the rest of the day.
The mom expressed her sympathy, and then gave me the old up and down once over and asked "....are you sure you're not pregnant?" SHE WAS COMPLETELY SERIOUS. I laughed uncomfortably and said something along the lines of "Oh no...ha ha....yes, I'm sure...ha ha...." Very convincing, I know.
The next morning, I was back at school, feeling much better. All the kids were coming in, getting started on their morning work, the moms were milling around in the hallway doing their usual morning chat thing. The mom who I nearly barfed on the day before came inside to ask me how I was feeling, and as I assured her I was better and it was most likely something I ate, she WINKED AT ME and said "Well, you know there is something else that can make young women sick like that as well..." I'm pretty sure she also wiggled her eyebrows at me.
Needless to say, I won't be eating South African food anytime soon. Thanks to some terrible chicken, who knows how many parents at school now assume I've got a bun in the oven?
Freiheit
Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeedooooooooooooooooooom! I find this William Wallace-esque bellow to be only appropriate, as I'm leaving for bloody Scotland tomorrow morning at 5 am. I'm on fall break for two weeks, and plan to enjoy the land of the Scots to the fullest. My three friends are coming along with me, and there's been much talk of whiskey and hagus tasting. It should be epic.
Thanks Germany, for being so centrally located, and thanks, employer, for giving me so many holidays. Shazam.
Superclass
My class this year is, in a word, unbelievable. We just finished up the seventh week of school, and I'm still in a state of bliss most of the time at work. I am convinced now that karma does exist, and that this is the universe's way of saying "Hey, I realize you had some serious shenanigans and hijinks to deal with the past two years. I see now that I used up almost all of your patience and made you feel like you were taking crazy pills most days. So here you go. Have these kids. They'll make up for it."
All I can say is- thanks for throwing me a frickin' bone, universe. These kids do, in fact, make up for every second of insanity I've dealt with the past two years. They're all sweet, hilarious, happy little people. I love being around them, I love teaching them, I love working hard for them.
I like to refer to them collectively as Superclass....I have big plans to get them all matching Captain Planet save the earth rings. It's gonna happen.
Trevor Gets Married
My older brother, Trevor, was married to the lovely Maureen McGinty about two weeks ago. I flew back to the US for six days to be in the wedding....and it was insane. In a great way. First of all, flying from Germany to Oregon just for a wedding SOUNDS kind of glamorous. Let me tell you- it's not. 20 hours of travel, US Airways (they suck...hard), a nine hour time difference, a weekend of working twelve hour to prepare for a substitute teacher before leaving, and lack of sleep all made for....insanity. However, I was so pumped for all the festivities that it didn't even matter all that much. There were so many people to see, so many things to do, dresses to wear, wine to drink, American food to eat...that I powered through the jet lag to have a fantastic time.
The rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, wedding and reception were all ridiculously fun. Everything went pretty much according to plan and I only cried a little bit. My brother looked pretty sharp in his Army uniform, Maureen looked smokin' hot in her gorgeous wedding dress, and my fellow bridesmaids and I looked fabulous in our blue dresses. Also, the Crystal Ballroom in downtown Portland? Best reception venue EVER. Don't dispute me. It's true.
One of my favorite parts of this wedding trip was an evening/afternoon that had absolutely nothing to do with the wedding. The day after I flew in, still three days before the wedding, I was visiting my friends in Portland, thinking my brother was still in Washington. Then that night I get a call from him, demanding I meet him at the T Room. The T Room, for those of you who don't know, is the loving (ish) name used by all University of Portland students for the Twilight Room, a dive bar in North Portland. I deliberated for awhile about whether or not I should go (thanks for putting up with that, Jeff), because I was exhausted, was supposed to be driving back to Salem that night, etc. I ended up going, and it turned out to be a great decision. My brother's two old buddies Garth and Joe were there as well, and it was so fun to hang out with them again. They featured prominently in some of my early college days, so it was just like old times...only better, because I could actually get into the bar legally now. We had a couple beers, made fun of the...unique individuals doing karaoke, and then went on a walk to the gas station and back. This sounds pretty lame, but hilarity ensued. Then the next day I met up with Trevor and Garth for lunch at our favorite sushi place, which was something Trev and I used to do in Portland all the time. I can't find the words to describe how happy these simple things made me, but I just felt like I was bursting with joy and contentment. I have a suspicion it was mostly because I was spending time with my brother again- but I think going back to some of our old haunts had to do with it as well.
I still can't believe my one and only brother is married, but I couldn't be happier about it. I'll remember his wedding and the fun that we had together throughout the whole thing forever.
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| All four of us, one now a married man. |
"Are You Sure You're Not Pregnant?"
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would hear this phrase uttered in a professional workplace setting. Turns out my dreams just aren't wild enough.
Wednesday, I woke up and was feeling nauseated, but figured it had to do with the enormous dinner I ate at a South African restaurant the night before. I went through my morning at school feeling ok, but skipped lunch because I still had some rumbly going on in the tumbly. I had parent conferences starting at 12:30, and at approximately 12:20 I had that twitchy feeling in my throat that has always been a signal that vomiting is imminent. I ran to the bathroom and puked my guts out for about ten minutes, cursing South African food, the fact that I had a parent waiting for me, and the universe all at the same time. I managed to stumble out of the bathroom about ten minutes later, and decided the best course of action was to just get through the conference with the woman who was already waiting for me, and then see how things went from there. In retrospect, this logic seems flawed, but I'd like to see how well you reason things out when you've just emptied the contents of your digestive tract and then have a stern German woman sitting in your classroom, staring you down and judging you for your smudged mascara.
About 20 minutes into said conference, I got that twitchy throat feeling again. Trying to hide my panic at the thought of tossing my cookies all over this pristine and perfectly dressed woman, I wrapped things up while clenching my teeth and smiling like an insane jester. I heard somewhere that this fights the gag reflex, and I think it worked...long enough for me to shove the mom out into the hall and run to the bathroom again. Cue vomit session number 2.
By this time I was able to accept the fact that I might have to go home. I wobbled back out into the hallway, and ran into the next mom on the way. She cheerfully inquired as to her appointment time. I looked at her with watering, bloodshot eyes and tried not to breathe too much of my puke breath on her as I said "I just threw up. I think I need to cancel." Could I have said this more eloquently? Most definitely, but I was going more for "get the point across before I lose my lunch again all over the hallway floor." I did explain that I thought I had food poisoning and really needed to go home for the rest of the day.
The mom expressed her sympathy, and then gave me the old up and down once over and asked "....are you sure you're not pregnant?" SHE WAS COMPLETELY SERIOUS. I laughed uncomfortably and said something along the lines of "Oh no...ha ha....yes, I'm sure...ha ha...." Very convincing, I know.
The next morning, I was back at school, feeling much better. All the kids were coming in, getting started on their morning work, the moms were milling around in the hallway doing their usual morning chat thing. The mom who I nearly barfed on the day before came inside to ask me how I was feeling, and as I assured her I was better and it was most likely something I ate, she WINKED AT ME and said "Well, you know there is something else that can make young women sick like that as well..." I'm pretty sure she also wiggled her eyebrows at me.
Needless to say, I won't be eating South African food anytime soon. Thanks to some terrible chicken, who knows how many parents at school now assume I've got a bun in the oven?
Freiheit
Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeedooooooooooooooooooom! I find this William Wallace-esque bellow to be only appropriate, as I'm leaving for bloody Scotland tomorrow morning at 5 am. I'm on fall break for two weeks, and plan to enjoy the land of the Scots to the fullest. My three friends are coming along with me, and there's been much talk of whiskey and hagus tasting. It should be epic.
Thanks Germany, for being so centrally located, and thanks, employer, for giving me so many holidays. Shazam.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Back in the Saddle Again
Do not worry, avid readers. I am alive and well, and still living in Germany. I didn't flee the country at the two year mark- rather, I decided to stay for another year. So here I am, back in Dresden after six weeks in the US, three days into the new school year, and once again listening to the booming of a summer thunder storm.
A real update will follow soon. For now, it's bedtime. Love you all.
Monday, May 24, 2010
More Awesome Than an Acrobatic Hamster
Three day weekends are so awesome. They're more awesome than a hamster performing acrobatics. And if you have any powers of imagination at all, you understand just how awesome that would be.
Three day weekends reach their full awesomeness potential if you have absolutely nothing you have to do on said weekend. If the only thing required of you is to laze about and eat peanut butter, pickle, and miracle whip sandwiches while reading the sequel to Pride and Prejudice, (I am obviously not speaking from experience here. It's a purely hypothetical situation. We all know I totally hate peanut butter and pickle sandwiches and Jane Austen.*) then prepare for the awesome to straight up slap you in the face.
If you have things you need to do on your three day weekend, it can still be totally awesome. It can be totally awesome if you're one of those people who is...what's the word...ah yes. Efficient. If you possess any level of efficiency and/or the ability to gauge how long it will take you to do things, then the three day weekend will treat you well. The awesomeness might not slap you right in the face, but it will still most likely give you a serious shove.
If you have things to do on your three day weekend and are one of the unlucky people out there who are Never Efficient (there are literally dozens of us), then the three days off from employment/school/contributing to society in some way will play out something like this. You'll make lofty plans to accomplish things in small increments throughout the weekend, so it doesn't seem like you have so much to do. "I'll just do one small thing at a time," you think to yourself "It's such a simple solution, why didn't I think of it before?!" The problem is, you DID think of it before- many a time. And it's never worked out. Alas, part of the curse of the Never Efficient is to forget about their past efficiency disasters as soon as they've finished.
So you go home on Friday night. You decide that the small things you had planned for Friday night should definitely be postponed until Saturday, because you've just finished a long week at work.... and who doesn't deserve an internet TV marathon followed by a 9 PM bedtime after five days of actually doing stuff?
You get up early on Saturday morning, and congratulate yourself on waking up before your usual weekend time of 10 AM. Because you are up so early, you're lulled into a false sense of security and tell yourself that you definitely have enough time to sit on the balcony and read. For two hours. Then you remember you have to actually go somewhere today, and have approximately one hour to shower, dress, catch the tram, and be on time for the thing you have to do. Much scurrying and swearing follows, and you barely make it out the door on time. You spend Saturday doing whatever thing it is you had to do. You get home late that night, exhausted, and fall asleep vowing to attack that to-do list tomorrow.
Sunday morning. The day of rest. You take this a bit too literally and somehow manage to spend the day alternately napping, reading, and watching useless things on YouTube. You are comforted by the fact that you have all day tomorrow- an entire day you normally wouldn't have- to do stuff. Then your friend texts you about that party you said you would go to, and you realize you've spent about six hours in a semi-comatose state. More scurrying and swearing ensues. You run out the door, again barely on time. You arrive home from said party at a respectable hour, but too tipsy to do anything of use. "Tomorrow's going to be SUCH a productive day! I can feel it already!" These are your final thoughts before you fall into a red wine induced slumber.
Monday arrives. You wake up early out of a sense of obligation and shame. You think back on the past two days and scold yourself for your lack of productivity. You start to get a little bit stressed out about all the stuff you have to do still.
You see that really great book you spent much of yesterday reading. You think to yourself "Ok, I'll just read for an HOUR and then that will be it! Then I'll do so much stuff!"
Next thing you know, it's 8 PM. You've put a real dent in the book, but not in much else.
This may or may not be loosely based on my own personal experiences over the last three days. I may or may not be dealing with the consequences of my extremely serious procrastination problem by writing a blog post.
I just remembered that I was supposed to be writing about Germany related things. Well, the reason I had to go to a party last night instead of accomplishing anything worthwhile was because some German friends of mine got married. AND it's only a three day weekend because today is the German public holiday of Pfingsten. Go look it up.
Also, having a real job seems to have severely impacted my ability to be productive on weekends. All I want to do is go drink beer with my friends or sit around and read while listening to show tunes (no judging!). I know what you're all thinking. I used to do these things BEFORE I had a real job. Yes, yes I did. But before this job got all up in my grill, I could do these things during the week too. I could spread the fun out over the course of seven days. Now I've got two sad days in which to do all the enjoyable things that I want to do everyday. This is Germany's fault, obviously, because it is the location of said real job. So there. Germany reference, shazam.
I think I need to seek counseling to deal with this problem. It's plagued me all my life, and the problem now is that as I get older, my ability to pull all nighters lessens. The all nighter is a key component to still being able to get shit done while suffering from Debilitating Procrastination Syndrome. Maybe hypnosis would work.
My one coping mechanism is to make lists of every single thing I need to do, because in addition to putting things off until the last possible minute, I'm also what some might call extremely forgetful. I prefer absent minded. This only becomes less of a coping mechanism when I forget to write the things down that I'm not supposed to forget. Like on Friday, I remembered that I needed to buy bean seeds for my class, since we're studying plants and need to actually PLANT something rather than just reading about it in books. Then I forgot to write it down in my day planner, the sacred vessel that contains all my lists and do-not-forget notes. So I forgot it. Until about five minutes ago. And this being Germany, EVERY store is closed on a public holiday. So now I'm up a creek without any bean seeds.
I feel this chart created by Allie Brosh, author of the HILARIOUS blog Hyperbole and a Half, expresses my lack of efficiency and serious procrastination perfectly.
Seriously, that's me. Add in a box about obsessively listening to the acoustic version of "Poker Face", and it pretty much sums up my weekend. Who am I kidding- it sums up my life.
Balls.
Three day weekends reach their full awesomeness potential if you have absolutely nothing you have to do on said weekend. If the only thing required of you is to laze about and eat peanut butter, pickle, and miracle whip sandwiches while reading the sequel to Pride and Prejudice, (I am obviously not speaking from experience here. It's a purely hypothetical situation. We all know I totally hate peanut butter and pickle sandwiches and Jane Austen.*) then prepare for the awesome to straight up slap you in the face.
If you have things you need to do on your three day weekend, it can still be totally awesome. It can be totally awesome if you're one of those people who is...what's the word...ah yes. Efficient. If you possess any level of efficiency and/or the ability to gauge how long it will take you to do things, then the three day weekend will treat you well. The awesomeness might not slap you right in the face, but it will still most likely give you a serious shove.
If you have things to do on your three day weekend and are one of the unlucky people out there who are Never Efficient (there are literally dozens of us), then the three days off from employment/school/contributing to society in some way will play out something like this. You'll make lofty plans to accomplish things in small increments throughout the weekend, so it doesn't seem like you have so much to do. "I'll just do one small thing at a time," you think to yourself "It's such a simple solution, why didn't I think of it before?!" The problem is, you DID think of it before- many a time. And it's never worked out. Alas, part of the curse of the Never Efficient is to forget about their past efficiency disasters as soon as they've finished.
So you go home on Friday night. You decide that the small things you had planned for Friday night should definitely be postponed until Saturday, because you've just finished a long week at work.... and who doesn't deserve an internet TV marathon followed by a 9 PM bedtime after five days of actually doing stuff?
You get up early on Saturday morning, and congratulate yourself on waking up before your usual weekend time of 10 AM. Because you are up so early, you're lulled into a false sense of security and tell yourself that you definitely have enough time to sit on the balcony and read. For two hours. Then you remember you have to actually go somewhere today, and have approximately one hour to shower, dress, catch the tram, and be on time for the thing you have to do. Much scurrying and swearing follows, and you barely make it out the door on time. You spend Saturday doing whatever thing it is you had to do. You get home late that night, exhausted, and fall asleep vowing to attack that to-do list tomorrow.
Sunday morning. The day of rest. You take this a bit too literally and somehow manage to spend the day alternately napping, reading, and watching useless things on YouTube. You are comforted by the fact that you have all day tomorrow- an entire day you normally wouldn't have- to do stuff. Then your friend texts you about that party you said you would go to, and you realize you've spent about six hours in a semi-comatose state. More scurrying and swearing ensues. You run out the door, again barely on time. You arrive home from said party at a respectable hour, but too tipsy to do anything of use. "Tomorrow's going to be SUCH a productive day! I can feel it already!" These are your final thoughts before you fall into a red wine induced slumber.
Monday arrives. You wake up early out of a sense of obligation and shame. You think back on the past two days and scold yourself for your lack of productivity. You start to get a little bit stressed out about all the stuff you have to do still.
You see that really great book you spent much of yesterday reading. You think to yourself "Ok, I'll just read for an HOUR and then that will be it! Then I'll do so much stuff!"
Next thing you know, it's 8 PM. You've put a real dent in the book, but not in much else.
This may or may not be loosely based on my own personal experiences over the last three days. I may or may not be dealing with the consequences of my extremely serious procrastination problem by writing a blog post.
I just remembered that I was supposed to be writing about Germany related things. Well, the reason I had to go to a party last night instead of accomplishing anything worthwhile was because some German friends of mine got married. AND it's only a three day weekend because today is the German public holiday of Pfingsten. Go look it up.
Also, having a real job seems to have severely impacted my ability to be productive on weekends. All I want to do is go drink beer with my friends or sit around and read while listening to show tunes (no judging!). I know what you're all thinking. I used to do these things BEFORE I had a real job. Yes, yes I did. But before this job got all up in my grill, I could do these things during the week too. I could spread the fun out over the course of seven days. Now I've got two sad days in which to do all the enjoyable things that I want to do everyday. This is Germany's fault, obviously, because it is the location of said real job. So there. Germany reference, shazam.
I think I need to seek counseling to deal with this problem. It's plagued me all my life, and the problem now is that as I get older, my ability to pull all nighters lessens. The all nighter is a key component to still being able to get shit done while suffering from Debilitating Procrastination Syndrome. Maybe hypnosis would work.
My one coping mechanism is to make lists of every single thing I need to do, because in addition to putting things off until the last possible minute, I'm also what some might call extremely forgetful. I prefer absent minded. This only becomes less of a coping mechanism when I forget to write the things down that I'm not supposed to forget. Like on Friday, I remembered that I needed to buy bean seeds for my class, since we're studying plants and need to actually PLANT something rather than just reading about it in books. Then I forgot to write it down in my day planner, the sacred vessel that contains all my lists and do-not-forget notes. So I forgot it. Until about five minutes ago. And this being Germany, EVERY store is closed on a public holiday. So now I'm up a creek without any bean seeds.
I feel this chart created by Allie Brosh, author of the HILARIOUS blog Hyperbole and a Half, expresses my lack of efficiency and serious procrastination perfectly.
Balls.
*I actually have a deep and abiding love for both peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, as well as Jane Austen. And slightly smutty Pride and Prejudice spin off novels.
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