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.
 |
| 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.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Almost Two Year Retrospective
I've realized two things. Thing the first: I haven't posted in awhile. Sorry, masses of readers, to disappoint you. Thing the second: my recent posts haven't had much to do with being in Germany. I started this blogging (ugh, I still hate that word) business as a way to let my dear and far-away family and friends know what life was like in my new country. However, I've taken to writing about lots of other things, that really don't have much to do with being a foreigner. Time to rectify the situation!
Due to the impending two years in Dresden mark, I've been thinking a lot about how certain things in my life which have become routine are so different to how I lived my life in Oregon. Small things really, but they add up to a slightly altered lifestyle.For the first few months I lived here, I despised these small things. Every time I had to take my own bags to the grocery store, or walk twenty minutes in the rain to get somewhere because I don't have a car, I would rage silently to myself. Often this raging involved me cursing Germany, it's people, it's language, and it's penchant for treacherous cobblestone streets.
I sometimes still rage. Occasionally, I reach the boiling point and just wish I could transport myself back the the US for an hour or two. But I've gotten used to these differences. I usually don't even register them as differences anymore- it's just my life. I wake up in the morning and shower with my hand-held shower, enjoying the fact that I can aim the hot water any old way I please, instead of cursing the fact that I don't have a normal hands-free-stand-underneath-it shower. I race out of my apartment to catch the tram on time, or I wrestle my bike into the elevator to get it down ten flights of stairs and out onto the street for the bumpy, cobblestone-y ride to work. I spend the day at school with a classroom full of mostly German kids, trying not to actually go nuts while attempting to explain American phrases such as "You're driving me nuts!" After school, I stop at the grocery store and whip out my handy dandy cloth bags that I keep folded up in my purse when I get to the check out. Then I hoof it home lugging the groceries along with me. When I get home, I stuff the groceries into my mini, smaller than a dorm fridge fridge and put some laundry into the washing machine. That's in the kitchen. Have to make sure the output hose is in the sink, otherwise the dirty laundry water will spray around the kitchen like a geyser. This may or may not have happened before. When it's done, I only grumble a little bit about not having a dryer, and hang aaaaall my laundry (including socks and underwear) up on my little drying rack.
All these things are small, daily rituals that I've always performed. Showering, getting to work, going to the grocery store, doing laundry. When I moved here two years ago I was constantly frustrated by how different these little rituals had to be. Each time I had to lug my groceries home from the store I dreamed of the roomy trunk of my little Honda Civic, which could hold bags and bags and baaaaags of groceries. When I tripped on the ridiculously uneven cobblestones that pave the streets around my apartment, I thought so fondly of the ugly but BEAUTIFULLY SMOOTH asphalt streets I grew up surrounded by. These things all seem so tiny, and unimportant if you're in a familiar setting. But once you've been transported to a new place, with a new job, new culture, and new language to deal with, these things become monumentally important.
I make these angry, frustrated comparisons less and less these days. Part of living in a foreign country is accepting the differences and unfamiliar situations you encounter. At least, I think so. I'm probably never going to rejoice at the fact that I can't fit more than three days worth of groceries into my impossibly small refrigerator. I can honestly say I'll never wish for someone to speak to me in ultra-fast, heavily accented German. The longer I live here though, the less upsetting these things are. They've become a part of my new life, and I like to think I've become better at adapting to new situations because of it.
Now, myself and the German language- that's a whole different story. One for another post. Perhaps several.
This week, I've been reading a book loaned to me by a fellow teacher. It's called "Almost French: A New Life in Paris." You've probably never heard of it- I hadn't before she gave it to me. It's written by Sarah Turnbull, and Australian journalist who has lived in Paris for the past ten years. It's the story of her decision to move to France, and the subsequent acclimating and fitting in she's been doing ever since. So many of the things she writes about have made me laugh out loud while reading, because I feel like I've been in the exact same situation myself. I'm going to end this long and slightly disjointed post with an excerpt from the book. Honestly, substitute Germany for France, Dresden for Paris and America for Australia, and she could have been reading my mind while writing it. Her version might be slightly more eloquent than mine.
The old Greek on Samos island had warned me. "It's a bitter-sweet thing, knowing two cultures," he'd said. "It's a curse to love two countries." Well I certainly don't think of living abroad as a curse- I don't think the Greek believed it either. He was just dramatising his dilemma, the feeling of being torn between two places. And this is something I now understand. For an expatriate, the whole matter of "home" is an emotional conundrum riddled with ambiguities and caprice. Paris is my actual home: its' where I live. It can pull at heartstrings with a mere walk down our market street in the morning. But Australia is the home of my homesickness and my history- a powerful whirlpool of family and friends, memories and daily trivia that I used to take for granted but now seem somehow remarkable.
Although I understand the French better now, the reality is in France I'm still an outsider. There seem to be so many contradictions, so many social codes for different situations that make life interesting but also leave you feeling a bit vulnerable. Living in Paris requires constant effort: effort to make myself understood, effort to understand and to be alert for those cultural intricacies that can turn even going to the post office into a social adventure.
(Turnbull pg. 166) Lamest citation ever, but I don't want to be a plagiarist.
I really couldn't have said it better myself. And as it's way past even my weekend bedtime, goodnight from Dresden.
Due to the impending two years in Dresden mark, I've been thinking a lot about how certain things in my life which have become routine are so different to how I lived my life in Oregon. Small things really, but they add up to a slightly altered lifestyle.For the first few months I lived here, I despised these small things. Every time I had to take my own bags to the grocery store, or walk twenty minutes in the rain to get somewhere because I don't have a car, I would rage silently to myself. Often this raging involved me cursing Germany, it's people, it's language, and it's penchant for treacherous cobblestone streets.
I sometimes still rage. Occasionally, I reach the boiling point and just wish I could transport myself back the the US for an hour or two. But I've gotten used to these differences. I usually don't even register them as differences anymore- it's just my life. I wake up in the morning and shower with my hand-held shower, enjoying the fact that I can aim the hot water any old way I please, instead of cursing the fact that I don't have a normal hands-free-stand-underneath-it shower. I race out of my apartment to catch the tram on time, or I wrestle my bike into the elevator to get it down ten flights of stairs and out onto the street for the bumpy, cobblestone-y ride to work. I spend the day at school with a classroom full of mostly German kids, trying not to actually go nuts while attempting to explain American phrases such as "You're driving me nuts!" After school, I stop at the grocery store and whip out my handy dandy cloth bags that I keep folded up in my purse when I get to the check out. Then I hoof it home lugging the groceries along with me. When I get home, I stuff the groceries into my mini, smaller than a dorm fridge fridge and put some laundry into the washing machine. That's in the kitchen. Have to make sure the output hose is in the sink, otherwise the dirty laundry water will spray around the kitchen like a geyser. This may or may not have happened before. When it's done, I only grumble a little bit about not having a dryer, and hang aaaaall my laundry (including socks and underwear) up on my little drying rack.
All these things are small, daily rituals that I've always performed. Showering, getting to work, going to the grocery store, doing laundry. When I moved here two years ago I was constantly frustrated by how different these little rituals had to be. Each time I had to lug my groceries home from the store I dreamed of the roomy trunk of my little Honda Civic, which could hold bags and bags and baaaaags of groceries. When I tripped on the ridiculously uneven cobblestones that pave the streets around my apartment, I thought so fondly of the ugly but BEAUTIFULLY SMOOTH asphalt streets I grew up surrounded by. These things all seem so tiny, and unimportant if you're in a familiar setting. But once you've been transported to a new place, with a new job, new culture, and new language to deal with, these things become monumentally important.
I make these angry, frustrated comparisons less and less these days. Part of living in a foreign country is accepting the differences and unfamiliar situations you encounter. At least, I think so. I'm probably never going to rejoice at the fact that I can't fit more than three days worth of groceries into my impossibly small refrigerator. I can honestly say I'll never wish for someone to speak to me in ultra-fast, heavily accented German. The longer I live here though, the less upsetting these things are. They've become a part of my new life, and I like to think I've become better at adapting to new situations because of it.
Now, myself and the German language- that's a whole different story. One for another post. Perhaps several.
This week, I've been reading a book loaned to me by a fellow teacher. It's called "Almost French: A New Life in Paris." You've probably never heard of it- I hadn't before she gave it to me. It's written by Sarah Turnbull, and Australian journalist who has lived in Paris for the past ten years. It's the story of her decision to move to France, and the subsequent acclimating and fitting in she's been doing ever since. So many of the things she writes about have made me laugh out loud while reading, because I feel like I've been in the exact same situation myself. I'm going to end this long and slightly disjointed post with an excerpt from the book. Honestly, substitute Germany for France, Dresden for Paris and America for Australia, and she could have been reading my mind while writing it. Her version might be slightly more eloquent than mine.
The old Greek on Samos island had warned me. "It's a bitter-sweet thing, knowing two cultures," he'd said. "It's a curse to love two countries." Well I certainly don't think of living abroad as a curse- I don't think the Greek believed it either. He was just dramatising his dilemma, the feeling of being torn between two places. And this is something I now understand. For an expatriate, the whole matter of "home" is an emotional conundrum riddled with ambiguities and caprice. Paris is my actual home: its' where I live. It can pull at heartstrings with a mere walk down our market street in the morning. But Australia is the home of my homesickness and my history- a powerful whirlpool of family and friends, memories and daily trivia that I used to take for granted but now seem somehow remarkable.
Although I understand the French better now, the reality is in France I'm still an outsider. There seem to be so many contradictions, so many social codes for different situations that make life interesting but also leave you feeling a bit vulnerable. Living in Paris requires constant effort: effort to make myself understood, effort to understand and to be alert for those cultural intricacies that can turn even going to the post office into a social adventure.
(Turnbull pg. 166) Lamest citation ever, but I don't want to be a plagiarist.
I really couldn't have said it better myself. And as it's way past even my weekend bedtime, goodnight from Dresden.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Ich habe so viele Probleme
Direct translation: "I have so many problems."
I'd like to clarify that when I say "problem" I mean bad habits or really weird tendencies. I understand that compared to a lot of people, I really don't have any serious problems. Reality slapped me (hard- it was more of a sucker punch, really) in the face a few weeks ago, and let's just say that I'm really trying hard to be more grateful for the amazing life I have, and am attempting to count my blessings.
All that aside, I've had a bit of a strange day, filled with my weird little habits. Sundays either bring out the best or the worst in me, because as far as days of the week go, they're typically pretty empty and obligation free. So I either get down to business and get shit done, or (more often) I sit around and do weird stuff and then end up scurrying around at 9:39 PM trying to get ready for the upcoming week.
Here is a list I've been mentally compiling, all day, of my strange habits. I'm doing this as a favor to all of you, so that you can take a look at yourself in the mirror and say "Self, we've got it pretty good compared to that certifiably insane Bri." You can thank me later.
1. I always let my dishes pile up in the sink until the sink and surrounding counter area have become a safety hazard. One misstep or wrong move anywhere in the vicinity and the precariously stacked Leaning Tower of Dishes will come crashing down. Yes, this has happened before. WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?! That IS the question.
2. I do the same thing with my laundry.
3. When I find a new song I like, I listen to that song exclusively for anywhere from 1-4 weeks at a time. I found a new song I liked last night. So yes, I'm listening to it on repeat right now. In case you want to get sucked in to my insanity, the song is "Make You Feel My Love" by Adele. She's British. And awesome. And one of her songs costs $1.29 on iTunes which makes me think she might be a bit of a tool, but I'm willing to withhold judgment until I get the whole story. It better be a good one, Adele.
4. I drink coffee with my dinner semi-frequently. This sometimes makes my daily goal of a 10 PM bed time unattainable. I curse myself for my foolish beverage choice the next morning when I'm bleary eyed and grouchy....but then I just do it again.
5. I've developed an addiction to pineapple juice, and it's all I want to drink. This wouldn't be so bad, if I didn't also have frequent heartburn. I think it's genetic because my dad and brother take some sort of intense medication for theirs. None of the women in my family have it.....I wonder if I have too much testosterone....although, the size of my, shall we say, decolletage would refute that whole theory. Anyway, I'm in the midst of a passionate pineapple juice love affair. I can't be bothered to use a glass either, and the juice carton is very strangely shaped, so I keep dribbling on myself. But I keep doing it. I'm starting to see a pattern here.....
6. I do the same thing with TV shows that I do with new songs. When I find one I like, I become obsessed for awhile. I'm currently obsessed with Flight of the Conchords. Bret and Jemaine are so sassy, I can't seem to get enough.
7. I always think there's some sort of supernatural shenanigans being played on me when really normal things happen. I was about to fall asleep for my second nap of the day today, and my half open balcony door SLAMMED shut in a light breeze. I jumped, yelped, and was immediately convinced some type of spirits or other forces were trying to send me a message. The only message I could come up with was "Don't take another nap." I chose to ignore said message and went to sleep anyway, after firmly closing and locking the offending door.
8. I like to go for walks. This is perfectly normal. While on my walks, I like to look into any open or lighted windows, check out what's going on inside, and make up stories about what I IMAGINE is really going on inside. This, I think, is not normal.
9. I really enjoy putting my name inside all of my books, and then sorting them into their proper places on my bookshelves. And then re-sorting them following a new organizational system. They're currently sorted by genre, and book height within each genre.
10. I enjoy sitting back and admiring my bookshelf after it's been sorted to my satisfaction.
So there you have it folks. I've got problems. I'd like to think they're more quirks than problems though. Now I'm off to drink some more pineapple juice and tackle the minefield of dishes awaiting me in my miniature sink.
I hope you all have tiny problems like these to fill up your days, and don't have any bigger or scarier ones to worry about.
Cheerio.
I'd like to clarify that when I say "problem" I mean bad habits or really weird tendencies. I understand that compared to a lot of people, I really don't have any serious problems. Reality slapped me (hard- it was more of a sucker punch, really) in the face a few weeks ago, and let's just say that I'm really trying hard to be more grateful for the amazing life I have, and am attempting to count my blessings.
All that aside, I've had a bit of a strange day, filled with my weird little habits. Sundays either bring out the best or the worst in me, because as far as days of the week go, they're typically pretty empty and obligation free. So I either get down to business and get shit done, or (more often) I sit around and do weird stuff and then end up scurrying around at 9:39 PM trying to get ready for the upcoming week.
Here is a list I've been mentally compiling, all day, of my strange habits. I'm doing this as a favor to all of you, so that you can take a look at yourself in the mirror and say "Self, we've got it pretty good compared to that certifiably insane Bri." You can thank me later.
1. I always let my dishes pile up in the sink until the sink and surrounding counter area have become a safety hazard. One misstep or wrong move anywhere in the vicinity and the precariously stacked Leaning Tower of Dishes will come crashing down. Yes, this has happened before. WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?! That IS the question.
2. I do the same thing with my laundry.
3. When I find a new song I like, I listen to that song exclusively for anywhere from 1-4 weeks at a time. I found a new song I liked last night. So yes, I'm listening to it on repeat right now. In case you want to get sucked in to my insanity, the song is "Make You Feel My Love" by Adele. She's British. And awesome. And one of her songs costs $1.29 on iTunes which makes me think she might be a bit of a tool, but I'm willing to withhold judgment until I get the whole story. It better be a good one, Adele.
4. I drink coffee with my dinner semi-frequently. This sometimes makes my daily goal of a 10 PM bed time unattainable. I curse myself for my foolish beverage choice the next morning when I'm bleary eyed and grouchy....but then I just do it again.
5. I've developed an addiction to pineapple juice, and it's all I want to drink. This wouldn't be so bad, if I didn't also have frequent heartburn. I think it's genetic because my dad and brother take some sort of intense medication for theirs. None of the women in my family have it.....I wonder if I have too much testosterone....although, the size of my, shall we say, decolletage would refute that whole theory. Anyway, I'm in the midst of a passionate pineapple juice love affair. I can't be bothered to use a glass either, and the juice carton is very strangely shaped, so I keep dribbling on myself. But I keep doing it. I'm starting to see a pattern here.....
6. I do the same thing with TV shows that I do with new songs. When I find one I like, I become obsessed for awhile. I'm currently obsessed with Flight of the Conchords. Bret and Jemaine are so sassy, I can't seem to get enough.
7. I always think there's some sort of supernatural shenanigans being played on me when really normal things happen. I was about to fall asleep for my second nap of the day today, and my half open balcony door SLAMMED shut in a light breeze. I jumped, yelped, and was immediately convinced some type of spirits or other forces were trying to send me a message. The only message I could come up with was "Don't take another nap." I chose to ignore said message and went to sleep anyway, after firmly closing and locking the offending door.
8. I like to go for walks. This is perfectly normal. While on my walks, I like to look into any open or lighted windows, check out what's going on inside, and make up stories about what I IMAGINE is really going on inside. This, I think, is not normal.
9. I really enjoy putting my name inside all of my books, and then sorting them into their proper places on my bookshelves. And then re-sorting them following a new organizational system. They're currently sorted by genre, and book height within each genre.
10. I enjoy sitting back and admiring my bookshelf after it's been sorted to my satisfaction.
So there you have it folks. I've got problems. I'd like to think they're more quirks than problems though. Now I'm off to drink some more pineapple juice and tackle the minefield of dishes awaiting me in my miniature sink.
I hope you all have tiny problems like these to fill up your days, and don't have any bigger or scarier ones to worry about.
Cheerio.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Silent Spin
Just call me Macgyver. I have conquered the unbalanced washing machine, and it was a sweet, sweet victory. For the past couple of months, every time I do laundry my machine jumps and rattles like a badly maintained twin engine plane attempting to take off on a very bumpy runway. It's quite possibly the most jarring sound I've ever heard (well, maybe number two to my door buzzer), and for the life of me I couldn't figure out WHY the machine was pulling these shenanigans. The absolute worst part of this situation was during the spin cycle- I honestly thought the tile floor underneath the machine was going to crack. I'll confess that I've hefted myself up to sit on top of it, more than once, in order to suppress the jumping and shaking. Given that I don't have a dryer, the extra-long spin cycle is essential in keeping the drying time to a minimum. So, wocka wocka wocka, I explain all of this so that you can understand my feelings of triumph when I FIXED IT TODAY. All by myself! The jumping and shaking was hardly evident, and the machine was virtually SILENT. I just stood in the kitchen (yes, my washing machine is in the kitchen, it's another flaw in this apartment and reason I want to move) for a few minutes, staring at the machine and enjoying the little whirring sound it made. I can neither confirm nor deny that I muttered "Take THAT!" to an inanimate object.
I bet the people that live below me are even happier about this than I am.
I bet the people that live below me are even happier about this than I am.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
I'm a Pro
I know I don't have to say it, since everyone already knows. But- I am. A pro, that is.
Do not dispute me! The truth lies in the name of my NEW LAPTOP....MacBook PRO. Obviously used by professionals, and professionals only.
The area of my professionalism has yet to be determined...teaching? My level of professionalism is debatable, considering the fact that I mutter "jerks" under my breath when my kids are annoying me. Essentially, I'm extremely excited to have this new piece of machinery at my disposal. Here's to hoping that this piece lasts longer than others in my home, as NO ONE wants to re-live (hyphen or no hyphen?!) the iPod falling in the toilet crisis of 2008.
The one problem is that I can't figure out what to do in place of the "right click" option that my good old PC offered. I'm a right click fanatic, so it's been a bit rough. If any Mac users out there have some advice, I'm all ears.
In other news, Christmas break came and went much too fast, and I loved having my sister here, even if she did hate London. I love her enough to forgive her for that. I'll admit to being slightly mopey after she left Dresden to go party with her friends for a couple more weeks, leaving me here having to return to work in a few days. I can also neither confirm nor deny that my Christmas tree is still up in the corner of my living room, due to the overwhelming melancholy I feel at the thought of taking it down by myself. Oh, it's a fake tree. That's why it's still standing and hasn't spontaneously combusted already. I've decided that tomorrow is the day though. It has to be done- I'd be more than slightly embarrassed if someone stopped by in mid January and my tree was still up in all it's glory. And yes, it is glorious.
Dresden is a snowy wasteland these days. I'm seriously considering investing in a dogsled along with a pair of matching Huskies as my means of transportation. I've never been exposed to THIS much snow for such an extended period of time, and I'm starting to understand why my dear friend Kristin Ourada always referred to it as "white poison."
What do you know, it's 2:28 AM. How time flies when you're fiddling around on your new computer. I do believe that's my cue to hit the sack.
Tschussie.
Do not dispute me! The truth lies in the name of my NEW LAPTOP....MacBook PRO. Obviously used by professionals, and professionals only.
The area of my professionalism has yet to be determined...teaching? My level of professionalism is debatable, considering the fact that I mutter "jerks" under my breath when my kids are annoying me. Essentially, I'm extremely excited to have this new piece of machinery at my disposal. Here's to hoping that this piece lasts longer than others in my home, as NO ONE wants to re-live (hyphen or no hyphen?!) the iPod falling in the toilet crisis of 2008.
The one problem is that I can't figure out what to do in place of the "right click" option that my good old PC offered. I'm a right click fanatic, so it's been a bit rough. If any Mac users out there have some advice, I'm all ears.
In other news, Christmas break came and went much too fast, and I loved having my sister here, even if she did hate London. I love her enough to forgive her for that. I'll admit to being slightly mopey after she left Dresden to go party with her friends for a couple more weeks, leaving me here having to return to work in a few days. I can also neither confirm nor deny that my Christmas tree is still up in the corner of my living room, due to the overwhelming melancholy I feel at the thought of taking it down by myself. Oh, it's a fake tree. That's why it's still standing and hasn't spontaneously combusted already. I've decided that tomorrow is the day though. It has to be done- I'd be more than slightly embarrassed if someone stopped by in mid January and my tree was still up in all it's glory. And yes, it is glorious.
Dresden is a snowy wasteland these days. I'm seriously considering investing in a dogsled along with a pair of matching Huskies as my means of transportation. I've never been exposed to THIS much snow for such an extended period of time, and I'm starting to understand why my dear friend Kristin Ourada always referred to it as "white poison."
What do you know, it's 2:28 AM. How time flies when you're fiddling around on your new computer. I do believe that's my cue to hit the sack.
Tschussie.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Going Postal
An adorable, bespectacled elderly man, who works at the post office down the street from my apartment, has singlehandedly restored my faith in the friendliness of Germans.
To start with, he was considerate enough to ask me if the DHL boxes I was purchasing were for posting within Germany- since these particular ones couldn't be sent internationally. I gratefully replied that I was in fact attempting to purchase international boxes, and he then scurried to the back room and returned with two international packages. Then, instead of just selling them to me and waving the next customer over (which I expected him to do, since there was an epically long line behind me), he inquired as to where I would be sending them. Mind you, he picked up on the fact that my German wasn't from 'round these parts, and I noticed that he spoke much more slowly and clearly after the first couple of sentences that came out of my mouth. He didn't do it in a demeaning way though, the way so many people do without even realizing. He was obviously just trying to make sure I understood him, which made the whole interaction much more pleasant, especially on my end. So, I told him that one was going to the USA and one was going to Afghanistan. "Ach, Afghanistan!" He said with raised eyebrows. I nodded and tried to explain "Meinen Bruder ist einen Soldat, und er wohnt jetzt in Afghanistan." My brother is a soldier, and currently lives in Afghanistan. Not grammatically correct at all, really, and a little (ok, a lot) on the basic side. But, he smiled and said something along the lines of "Well, you're such a nice sister to send him a package. It must be for Christmas?" I nodded, and he then proceeded to write up a detailed list of how much it would cost me to send a package there, depending on how much it weighed. After that, he wrote me a few little notes on the back of the paper on what I should say to the person when I came back, depending on if I wanted to send it priority or not, and explained in detail how to fill out the customs slip. Finally, I paid, stuffed everything into my bag, and waved goodbye, thanking him profusely. As I left he said "Ich hoeffe deinen Bruder gesund und munter bleibt." I hope your brother stays safe and sound.
It was maybe a seven minute interaction, but I just can't stop thinking about how friendly this man was, in so many small ways. Not only was it more wonderful than I can say to understand EVERYTHING someone said to me witouth having to infer meaning while frantically trying to keep pace with them, it was great to encounter a person who really was just trying to help me and make my day a little better. He could have shooed me off after selling me the wrong boxes, or glowered at me when I spoke hestitantly in German- but he didn't. It's nice to know that there are some truly genuine and caring people left out there. This stranger was a tiny part of my day, but I'll remember him for a long time.
In completely unrelated news, I am obsessed with the new Lady Gaga song/video "Bad Romance." I honestly, honestly don't know why. I just can't seem to stop watching it, even though as my sister said when I convinced her to check it out, "It's pretty effing weird, and what's up with that hairless cat?"
I don't know! But I can't seem to get enough. So I'm foisting it on you fools! Buahaha. Enjoy.
To start with, he was considerate enough to ask me if the DHL boxes I was purchasing were for posting within Germany- since these particular ones couldn't be sent internationally. I gratefully replied that I was in fact attempting to purchase international boxes, and he then scurried to the back room and returned with two international packages. Then, instead of just selling them to me and waving the next customer over (which I expected him to do, since there was an epically long line behind me), he inquired as to where I would be sending them. Mind you, he picked up on the fact that my German wasn't from 'round these parts, and I noticed that he spoke much more slowly and clearly after the first couple of sentences that came out of my mouth. He didn't do it in a demeaning way though, the way so many people do without even realizing. He was obviously just trying to make sure I understood him, which made the whole interaction much more pleasant, especially on my end. So, I told him that one was going to the USA and one was going to Afghanistan. "Ach, Afghanistan!" He said with raised eyebrows. I nodded and tried to explain "Meinen Bruder ist einen Soldat, und er wohnt jetzt in Afghanistan." My brother is a soldier, and currently lives in Afghanistan. Not grammatically correct at all, really, and a little (ok, a lot) on the basic side. But, he smiled and said something along the lines of "Well, you're such a nice sister to send him a package. It must be for Christmas?" I nodded, and he then proceeded to write up a detailed list of how much it would cost me to send a package there, depending on how much it weighed. After that, he wrote me a few little notes on the back of the paper on what I should say to the person when I came back, depending on if I wanted to send it priority or not, and explained in detail how to fill out the customs slip. Finally, I paid, stuffed everything into my bag, and waved goodbye, thanking him profusely. As I left he said "Ich hoeffe deinen Bruder gesund und munter bleibt." I hope your brother stays safe and sound.
It was maybe a seven minute interaction, but I just can't stop thinking about how friendly this man was, in so many small ways. Not only was it more wonderful than I can say to understand EVERYTHING someone said to me witouth having to infer meaning while frantically trying to keep pace with them, it was great to encounter a person who really was just trying to help me and make my day a little better. He could have shooed me off after selling me the wrong boxes, or glowered at me when I spoke hestitantly in German- but he didn't. It's nice to know that there are some truly genuine and caring people left out there. This stranger was a tiny part of my day, but I'll remember him for a long time.
In completely unrelated news, I am obsessed with the new Lady Gaga song/video "Bad Romance." I honestly, honestly don't know why. I just can't seem to stop watching it, even though as my sister said when I convinced her to check it out, "It's pretty effing weird, and what's up with that hairless cat?"
I don't know! But I can't seem to get enough. So I'm foisting it on you fools! Buahaha. Enjoy.
Friday, December 4, 2009
The Makings of a Great Day
I bought a new hat today, and I'm quite enamored with it. Partially because it keeps me warm(er) in this frigid weather, and partially because it is just so stylish. Like me.
All the stores were playing Christmas music today! This warms my heart.
I'm watching The Office right now, and Michael Scott just killed the dreams of fifteen children. I love it.
My attempt to give up diet soda lasted exactly eight days. The upside: I am currently enjoying a crisp, ice cold diet Pepsi and it is delicious and delightful.
I heard via a RIDICULOUS and incredibly annoying amount of almost identical facebook updates that the Ducks won the Civil War. To be honest, I'm more annoyed about this bombardment of idiotic status updates than I am about them actually winning. Sorry Dad and Trevor. There's always next year.
Oops, I was trying to only write happy things in this post. Well, I guess if you're an Oregon fan that is a happy thing, so I'll let it slide.
The lens cleaning spray that the charming salesman at LensCrafters in Salem, Oregon convinced me to buy back in July works like a DREAM. This might not seem like something to get worked up about, but having smudgy glasses makes me want to scream and punch a baby. Thus, me having sparkling clean glasses not only makes me deliriously happy, but saves lots of babies from being punched. In their baby faces.
I can sleep until I decide to wake up tomorrow, because tomorrow is SATURDAY.
I hope this balances out my last post, which I admit was kind of depressing. Don't worry, that kid and I are moving onward and upward. To make the end of the week even better, one of my students left me a note on the whiteboard at the end of school today. It said "Miss Bri, I love you!" and while I was charmed by the sentiment, I did a fist pump in my empty classroom because she punctuated it correctly.
Now I'm on to 30 Rock and I just can't stop chuckling. Whoever came up with the idea of streaming TV shows online deserves a really big cookie.
Here's to the weekend, and two more weeks until Christmas break!
All the stores were playing Christmas music today! This warms my heart.
I'm watching The Office right now, and Michael Scott just killed the dreams of fifteen children. I love it.
My attempt to give up diet soda lasted exactly eight days. The upside: I am currently enjoying a crisp, ice cold diet Pepsi and it is delicious and delightful.
I heard via a RIDICULOUS and incredibly annoying amount of almost identical facebook updates that the Ducks won the Civil War. To be honest, I'm more annoyed about this bombardment of idiotic status updates than I am about them actually winning. Sorry Dad and Trevor. There's always next year.
Oops, I was trying to only write happy things in this post. Well, I guess if you're an Oregon fan that is a happy thing, so I'll let it slide.
The lens cleaning spray that the charming salesman at LensCrafters in Salem, Oregon convinced me to buy back in July works like a DREAM. This might not seem like something to get worked up about, but having smudgy glasses makes me want to scream and punch a baby. Thus, me having sparkling clean glasses not only makes me deliriously happy, but saves lots of babies from being punched. In their baby faces.
I can sleep until I decide to wake up tomorrow, because tomorrow is SATURDAY.
I hope this balances out my last post, which I admit was kind of depressing. Don't worry, that kid and I are moving onward and upward. To make the end of the week even better, one of my students left me a note on the whiteboard at the end of school today. It said "Miss Bri, I love you!" and while I was charmed by the sentiment, I did a fist pump in my empty classroom because she punctuated it correctly.
Now I'm on to 30 Rock and I just can't stop chuckling. Whoever came up with the idea of streaming TV shows online deserves a really big cookie.
Here's to the weekend, and two more weeks until Christmas break!
Monday, November 30, 2009
For Mom
So, my mom has promised me she'll read my blog. I am holding her to that promise by posting pictures she wants to see ONLY HERE! Muahahaaaaa.
Thanksgiving in Dresden was fantastic! Even with all the non-Americans who wandered in off the street (ok...we invited them), it was still a great night of delicious food, delicious wine, wonderful company, and of course....gambling. No event hosted by my dear friends, the Spaldings, would be complete without it. You'll be happy to know that I was the victor of ALL gambling activities of the evening, coming out eighty euros richer.
PSYCH! I lost it all. It all being ten euros, but I'm not independently wealthy people. And like Kenny Rogers says, you gotta know when to hold em', know when to fold em', know when to walk awaaaaaaaaay, know when to ruuuuun...well, maybe that's not really applicable considering we didn't play cards, and that I didn't, in fact, know when to walk away.
Also of note: I made a sweet potato dish (with the close guidance of my cooking sensei, Anne Kalos) that people actually, without prompting, said was DELICIOUS. Their words, not mine! It would seem things are looking up on the domestic front.
It was a fantastic night, and made me proud to be one of the 'Muricans in Dresden. Enjoy the pictures mom!
Getting ready to start the night's festivities with a
racing sort of game I don't know the name of.
Before you start, you place up to 3 euros on any of
the little characters. Then you want your little
character to stay on the table the longest. It's
far more exciting than it seems.
In the midst of it. I was still going strong with my
two bets, on the Cubs babushka doll and the Swedish
horse.
But alas, the Hawaiian Hula Bitch was the winner.
Roy getting ready to manhandle the enormous
bird.
Obviously the most attractive table in the room.
Dinner table 2.
Dinner table 3.
After dinner we played a few rounds of left, right,
center, the ultimate dice game for any low stakes
gambler.
The suspense continues as the dice roll, and euro
coins fly across the table.
An after dinner shot of....something we found in
the fridge.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Christmas is Coming, the Goose is Getting Fat....
The holiday season is in FULL swing here in Dresden, it's almost ridiculous how Christmas-y everything is. This is coming from a girl who has a deep love for all things Christmas (and Hannukah) related. I think the problem is that they start so damn early! In the US we have the Thanksgiving barrier to keep things from getting too merry too fast. Here there's obviously no Thanksgiving, so the DAY AFTER Halloween, all the Christmas stuff comes out in the stores. Then, about the second week of November, all the Christmas decorations go up around the city. THEN, last weekend the Christmas markets opened. All before Thanksgiving! Come on people, everything in moderation. Three months of Christmas is a bit much.
However now that Thanksgiving is over, and I celebrated it in style with my Dresden family, I've allowed myself to be sucked into the onslaught of joy and Yueltide cheer. I went downtown today and meandered through a mini Wheinachtsmarkt (I'm no genius when it comes to spelling German words, ok?) , and picked up a present to send to some of the relations back home. I also put out all my Christmas decorations, which total the whopping number of three. I need to do some decor shopping this week, and figure out where and how to procure a Christmas tree. Since I'm staying here for Christmas this year, I plan to celebrate in the style to which I've become accustomed. I'm also fully expecting my sister to contribute her baking skills once she's arrived.
All of this being said, I do feel a little sad and melancholy at the thought of not being in Oregon for the holidays. I enjoy the life I have here, and love my friends (who, as my friend Roy said in his Thanksgiving toast, do feel like more of an extended family). But I still miss my family and dear friends back in the US. The thought of being without them on Christmas makes me miss them a little more than usual.
So! A homage, through photos, to the people I'm missing, and wishing were here with me. Happy almost December!
Disclaimer: These are in NO particular order, as I seem to have no control whatsoever over the editing functions of this piece of junk.
My mom and dad! Seen here gettin' down with
their bad selves on New Year's Eve a couple of
years ago.
The littlest sister of them all, Bridgy.
Kristin Ourada, best friend from forever.
This is the first time I've ever
conceded to spelling her name like that.
Anna Walters, my partner in so many capers,
adventures, and inebriated McDonald's runs. We
manage to cause trouble no matter which continent
we're on.
My older brother, Trevor. He's certifiably
awesome and I love spending time with him...
it's hard to believe we used to physically abuse
each other on a regular basis.
Dear friend and fellow lover of all (ok, many) things
nerdy, Jeff Hammond. We've been friends for...FOUR
years now, and this is honestly the only picture I have
that has both of us in it.
THE BEST GRANDPA EVER. Otherwise
known as Papa. He really is the best. Do not dispute
me.
My everything but the DNA siblings: Dave and
Emily.
My one and only Court-dawg. We slept together in
EVERY bed in her old house, including the trundle
beds. I miss sleeping with her. Take that as you will...
Vanessa Hargett, OLDEST friend. We're talking
17 YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP people.
Ali, Mo and Sarah...oh, so many wonderful times
we've had together. They are lovers of my early
morning toy trumpet serenades, and I know they
really wish they could have me back just to perform
that service for them.
What better way to end an already ridiculously sappy post, than with a photo of my entire family in MATCHING SHIRTS!? I enjoy the kitsch value of this picture, and also appreciate the fact that we were all in the same time at the same place. However, I do NOT understand why no one alerted me to the extremely masculine fashion in which I am sitting. Seriously, my brother and I are posed in the same exact way.
I guess you can't win em' all.
However now that Thanksgiving is over, and I celebrated it in style with my Dresden family, I've allowed myself to be sucked into the onslaught of joy and Yueltide cheer. I went downtown today and meandered through a mini Wheinachtsmarkt (I'm no genius when it comes to spelling German words, ok?) , and picked up a present to send to some of the relations back home. I also put out all my Christmas decorations, which total the whopping number of three. I need to do some decor shopping this week, and figure out where and how to procure a Christmas tree. Since I'm staying here for Christmas this year, I plan to celebrate in the style to which I've become accustomed. I'm also fully expecting my sister to contribute her baking skills once she's arrived.
All of this being said, I do feel a little sad and melancholy at the thought of not being in Oregon for the holidays. I enjoy the life I have here, and love my friends (who, as my friend Roy said in his Thanksgiving toast, do feel like more of an extended family). But I still miss my family and dear friends back in the US. The thought of being without them on Christmas makes me miss them a little more than usual.
So! A homage, through photos, to the people I'm missing, and wishing were here with me. Happy almost December!
Disclaimer: These are in NO particular order, as I seem to have no control whatsoever over the editing functions of this piece of junk.
My mom and dad! Seen here gettin' down with
their bad selves on New Year's Eve a couple of
years ago.
The littlest sister of them all, Bridgy.
Kristin Ourada, best friend from forever.
This is the first time I've ever
conceded to spelling her name like that.
Anna Walters, my partner in so many capers,
adventures, and inebriated McDonald's runs. We
manage to cause trouble no matter which continent
we're on.
My older brother, Trevor. He's certifiably
awesome and I love spending time with him...
it's hard to believe we used to physically abuse
each other on a regular basis.
Dear friend and fellow lover of all (ok, many) things
nerdy, Jeff Hammond. We've been friends for...FOUR
years now, and this is honestly the only picture I have
that has both of us in it.
THE BEST GRANDPA EVER. Otherwise
known as Papa. He really is the best. Do not dispute
me.
My everything but the DNA siblings: Dave and
Emily.
My one and only Court-dawg. We slept together in
EVERY bed in her old house, including the trundle
beds. I miss sleeping with her. Take that as you will...
Vanessa Hargett, OLDEST friend. We're talking
17 YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP people.
Ali, Mo and Sarah...oh, so many wonderful times
we've had together. They are lovers of my early
morning toy trumpet serenades, and I know they
really wish they could have me back just to perform
that service for them.
What better way to end an already ridiculously sappy post, than with a photo of my entire family in MATCHING SHIRTS!? I enjoy the kitsch value of this picture, and also appreciate the fact that we were all in the same time at the same place. However, I do NOT understand why no one alerted me to the extremely masculine fashion in which I am sitting. Seriously, my brother and I are posed in the same exact way.
I guess you can't win em' all.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Fight the Squirrel
I am most definitely updating my blog that nobody reads as a means of avoiding writing my report cards. Someone just TRY to stop me! Buaaaahahahaha!!
I can also neither confirm nor deny that I had an el gigantico (you didn't know this, but I'm fluent in Spanish) STARBUCKS latte around lunch time, and that it has done two things. Thing the first: vastly improved my mood. Thing the second: hyped me up to a near record level of Sunday evening energy. It's like I snorted a line of coke and then drank seven red bulls. Now, I've never actually done either of those things, but I have an excellent (some might say highly overactive) imagination, so I can imagine how one might feel if one HAD snorted a line of coke and washed it down with seven red bulls. And that's how I feel! Am I channeling this amazing energy to get lots of great report card writing done?! HAH. I laugh in that idea's general direction.
I do my best work under pressure- this has been proven time and again throughout my life. Most notably, in my junior and senior years of college, when the baristas at both Coffee Time and the 24 hour Starbucks in Portland and I were on a first name basis. I pulled so many all nighters my junior year, it ceased to be any sort of abnormal event- my housemates were amazed when I DIDN'T have to spend Thursday night holed up in the corner of some coffee shop, frantically typing out papers and journal entries until 5 AM. And guess what suckers? I got straight A's that year, WHILE taking 22 credits a semester! I feel this is empirical evidence of my ability to get shit done in a limited amount of time.
Did I also mention that I'm a master of rationalization?
Some notable events have taken (I first wrote "have been taking place" and then I had a flashback to Ms. Mclean attacking my DRAG paper's to be verbs with a bright yellow highlighter my sophomore year of high school. So then I changed it. This was an incredibly long parenthetical aside.) place in my life recently, as well as in the Caldwell Family in general. I'll give first billing to the most exciting and shout it from the rooftops-esque of said events:
My brother, Trevor Ryan Caldwell (known aliases include Douche Puppet, Hamster Man, and Dr. Bones) IS GETTING MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!
Folks who know my broski will understand my excitment. His fiancee Maureen is AWESOME, and an excellent addition to my already unique family. I hope she knows what she's getting herself into......
Compared to this piece of news, nothing else I've been up to lately is really worth getting too jazzed up about. I decided to go with "jazzed" there, rather than "excited" because I'm currently listening to the new Michael Buble CD, and if I had to choose one word to describe it, jazzy would be the one. I'm also listening at top volume, so I hope my neighbors have as deep an affection for Buble as I do.
This post is full of really strange comments. Like that one.
But really, where was I? Oh yes, interesting-ish events.
I just finished planning a six day trip to the city of all cities- LONDON. I'm heading there with my extremely likable and fun to spend time with sister Katy over Christmas break. Got the plane tickets, the lodging, even the bus tickets to and from Berlin! We're flying out from there, because it costs about twice as much to go anywhere from Dresden as it does from Berlin. Lame Dresden, lame. I'm ridiculously excited for this trip, mostly because I'm going with Katy, and we have very similar interests, so there won't be any (well, perhaps I should say minimal amounts of) arguing about where we're going or what we're doing. I've also been to London three times already, but two on two of those occasions I was by myself, so I feel there are many pubs I have yet to explore. I don't really go out pubbing (it's like clubbing, only nerdier and way BETTER) on my own very often.
Also coming up is Christmas itself, which should be enjoyable, even if I won't be at home. Katy will be here, we'll have a little tree, watch some Christmas classics (Home Alone is first on the list), and then go to some friends' for dinner on Christmas day. As long as the musical phenomenon Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer is played at some point throughout the festivities, I think we'll both be filled with Yueltide cheer.
My class loves Dave Matthews! I knew there was a reason I went into this education business. It's difficult to describe how joyous I felt when I put the CD on in class on Friday afternoon, and five minutes later kids were jamming in their seats, and telling me how "awesome" the music was. I also taught them that word. I'm sure their strict German parents are really appreciative of me teaching them proper and polite English. I've only ever played quiet music in class before- things like Pink Martini (their calmer stuff), lots of Brahms and Beethoven, acoustic guitar, etc. But boy, DMB was a hit. They've already elicited a promise from me that I would play it again on Monday. Those kids are so tricky.
This next item is more interesting in a "well shit, what can you do" sort of way. I think there's a family that has decided I'm the devil incarnate, and that I'm slowly turning their daughter into one of my minions of darkness. The dad, and now I think the mom as well, of one of my students seem to just have it out for me. I can't really tell you why. I work REALLY HARD. I try to be the best teacher possible. I treat their daughter with respect and differentiate instruction as much as I can to make sure she's being challenged. But the dad likes to come to parent/teacher meetings and do things like yell, scream, lean across the table in a very threatening manner. When he's not doing any of these things, he manages to be insanely patronizing, never failing to mention my age, my sex, and my "lack of experience." I've imagined about twelve BILLION ways to TAKE HIM DOWN, all of them completely outrageous, intensely satisfying, and probably not things I should be thinking about a parent. However, I feel he has brought my negative feelings upon himself. AND NOW the mom is against me. I was out sick for three days last week (and I was really sick, there was no getting around it), and while I was gone the substitute collected the kids' permission slips for a field trip we are going on tomorrow. She put what I thought was all of them on my desk, carefully and thoughtfully labeled with a sticky note. Well, this particular child's permission slip was missing from the pile she collected, so I sent another one home with her and wrote a little note on it saying that there had been a substitute, and she hadn't received said student's slip. I then very politely requested that a parent sign it and return it the next day. Well. It came back the next day, accompanied by an EXTREMELY rude note. It was written all in German (which I feel is another underhanded way for them to try and slight me, because they don't know that I speak a passable amount of German.) and basically said "I ALREADY SENT THIS TO SCHOOL!!!!!" Yes, it actually included the five exclamation marks.
I've decided these people can go....fly a kite. Nothing I do is good enough for them, and they seem to think I'm the escaped village idiot who somehow faked a university diploma and teaching credentials. Well, joke's on them, because them shit's is REAL!
Sorry for the crassness. It felt appropriate given the subject matter.
I'm trying to be more positive about my job, as well as life in general. Thus my attempt to deal with the biggest thorn in my side these days with a little bit of humor. I've been in a bit of a funk the past couple of weeks, for a lot of reasons, most of them work related. I've also been feeling kind of homesick, possibly due to the fact that I'll be missing out on a gen-u-ine Caldwell 'Muricahn Christmas this year. But life is only as good as you make it, right? I think the key to happiness is just not letting the jerks get you down.
Another reason I'm feeling positive about life: my box of Fitness Clusters breakfast cereal has a picture of a bad ass looking squirrel on it, and his eyes are narrowed in a very threatening manner....oh, and he's wearing giant boxing gloves . Below the picture it says: "DU VS. HORNCHEN- Fight for your Fruhstuck!" German food packaging often includes a bizarre mix of German and English words, this box of cereal being no exception. It means "You vs. Squirrel: fight for your breakfast!" I've been eating this cereal every morning for a week straight, just so I can chortle at that picture when I stumble into the dark kitchen at an ungodly hour of the day. I've eaten all the cereal now, but I saved the box so that once I get around to charging my camera battery, I can take a picture of the fightin' Sciuridae. (According to Websters Dictionary, this is the particular branch of the rodent family that squirrels belong to.)
I think I may have exhausted all topics of any sort of interest. Oh no, one more.
I watched a FANTASTIC movie on Friday night- Inglourious Basterds. I have to admit, I'm not a huge Tarantino fan. I generally dislike gratuitous violence, and his films tend to contain a lot of it. I found that this one only had minimal amounts though, which made it much more enjoyable, in my humble opinion. I loved the way all the different elements of the plot came together in the end, and I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. I also really got a kick out of being able to understand a lot of the German WITHOUT the assitance of subtitles. Ok, I might have peeked at a few of them, but I understood a lot of it- not too bad for the ol' ego. The icing on the cake was definitely Brad Pitt's accent, as well as the incredibly short appearance by Mike Meyers as a British officer. I've never understood people's obsession with Tarantino, but if all his movies were as fantastic as this one, I think I'd jump on that bandwagon pretty quickly.
I'll post a few pictures below, of recent happenings- just in case anyone reads this and doesn't have Facebook. Haha, look at me, acting as if I have a devoted readership. I do know how to make a joke. And with that, I'm out like an irish stout. Report cards, here I come! (Maybe.)
Katy came to visit! We had a great time, and I introduced her to Dresden's finest Weissbier.
My friend Chris had a slammin' Halloween party. Anne was a vampire (they're so hot right now), and I was Pippi Longstocking....I have trouble coming up with costumes.
I t think Pippi drank one too many G&T's.
My friend Lyn didn't want her fetus to miss out on the fun.
Ok, so this photograph is not recent at all, but I just found it and think it's hilarious. My sister Bridget and I are CLASSY brauds.
I can also neither confirm nor deny that I had an el gigantico (you didn't know this, but I'm fluent in Spanish) STARBUCKS latte around lunch time, and that it has done two things. Thing the first: vastly improved my mood. Thing the second: hyped me up to a near record level of Sunday evening energy. It's like I snorted a line of coke and then drank seven red bulls. Now, I've never actually done either of those things, but I have an excellent (some might say highly overactive) imagination, so I can imagine how one might feel if one HAD snorted a line of coke and washed it down with seven red bulls. And that's how I feel! Am I channeling this amazing energy to get lots of great report card writing done?! HAH. I laugh in that idea's general direction.
I do my best work under pressure- this has been proven time and again throughout my life. Most notably, in my junior and senior years of college, when the baristas at both Coffee Time and the 24 hour Starbucks in Portland and I were on a first name basis. I pulled so many all nighters my junior year, it ceased to be any sort of abnormal event- my housemates were amazed when I DIDN'T have to spend Thursday night holed up in the corner of some coffee shop, frantically typing out papers and journal entries until 5 AM. And guess what suckers? I got straight A's that year, WHILE taking 22 credits a semester! I feel this is empirical evidence of my ability to get shit done in a limited amount of time.
Did I also mention that I'm a master of rationalization?
Some notable events have taken (I first wrote "have been taking place" and then I had a flashback to Ms. Mclean attacking my DRAG paper's to be verbs with a bright yellow highlighter my sophomore year of high school. So then I changed it. This was an incredibly long parenthetical aside.) place in my life recently, as well as in the Caldwell Family in general. I'll give first billing to the most exciting and shout it from the rooftops-esque of said events:
My brother, Trevor Ryan Caldwell (known aliases include Douche Puppet, Hamster Man, and Dr. Bones) IS GETTING MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!
Folks who know my broski will understand my excitment. His fiancee Maureen is AWESOME, and an excellent addition to my already unique family. I hope she knows what she's getting herself into......
Compared to this piece of news, nothing else I've been up to lately is really worth getting too jazzed up about. I decided to go with "jazzed" there, rather than "excited" because I'm currently listening to the new Michael Buble CD, and if I had to choose one word to describe it, jazzy would be the one. I'm also listening at top volume, so I hope my neighbors have as deep an affection for Buble as I do.
This post is full of really strange comments. Like that one.
But really, where was I? Oh yes, interesting-ish events.
I just finished planning a six day trip to the city of all cities- LONDON. I'm heading there with my extremely likable and fun to spend time with sister Katy over Christmas break. Got the plane tickets, the lodging, even the bus tickets to and from Berlin! We're flying out from there, because it costs about twice as much to go anywhere from Dresden as it does from Berlin. Lame Dresden, lame. I'm ridiculously excited for this trip, mostly because I'm going with Katy, and we have very similar interests, so there won't be any (well, perhaps I should say minimal amounts of) arguing about where we're going or what we're doing. I've also been to London three times already, but two on two of those occasions I was by myself, so I feel there are many pubs I have yet to explore. I don't really go out pubbing (it's like clubbing, only nerdier and way BETTER) on my own very often.
Also coming up is Christmas itself, which should be enjoyable, even if I won't be at home. Katy will be here, we'll have a little tree, watch some Christmas classics (Home Alone is first on the list), and then go to some friends' for dinner on Christmas day. As long as the musical phenomenon Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer is played at some point throughout the festivities, I think we'll both be filled with Yueltide cheer.
My class loves Dave Matthews! I knew there was a reason I went into this education business. It's difficult to describe how joyous I felt when I put the CD on in class on Friday afternoon, and five minutes later kids were jamming in their seats, and telling me how "awesome" the music was. I also taught them that word. I'm sure their strict German parents are really appreciative of me teaching them proper and polite English. I've only ever played quiet music in class before- things like Pink Martini (their calmer stuff), lots of Brahms and Beethoven, acoustic guitar, etc. But boy, DMB was a hit. They've already elicited a promise from me that I would play it again on Monday. Those kids are so tricky.
This next item is more interesting in a "well shit, what can you do" sort of way. I think there's a family that has decided I'm the devil incarnate, and that I'm slowly turning their daughter into one of my minions of darkness. The dad, and now I think the mom as well, of one of my students seem to just have it out for me. I can't really tell you why. I work REALLY HARD. I try to be the best teacher possible. I treat their daughter with respect and differentiate instruction as much as I can to make sure she's being challenged. But the dad likes to come to parent/teacher meetings and do things like yell, scream, lean across the table in a very threatening manner. When he's not doing any of these things, he manages to be insanely patronizing, never failing to mention my age, my sex, and my "lack of experience." I've imagined about twelve BILLION ways to TAKE HIM DOWN, all of them completely outrageous, intensely satisfying, and probably not things I should be thinking about a parent. However, I feel he has brought my negative feelings upon himself. AND NOW the mom is against me. I was out sick for three days last week (and I was really sick, there was no getting around it), and while I was gone the substitute collected the kids' permission slips for a field trip we are going on tomorrow. She put what I thought was all of them on my desk, carefully and thoughtfully labeled with a sticky note. Well, this particular child's permission slip was missing from the pile she collected, so I sent another one home with her and wrote a little note on it saying that there had been a substitute, and she hadn't received said student's slip. I then very politely requested that a parent sign it and return it the next day. Well. It came back the next day, accompanied by an EXTREMELY rude note. It was written all in German (which I feel is another underhanded way for them to try and slight me, because they don't know that I speak a passable amount of German.) and basically said "I ALREADY SENT THIS TO SCHOOL!!!!!" Yes, it actually included the five exclamation marks.
I've decided these people can go....fly a kite. Nothing I do is good enough for them, and they seem to think I'm the escaped village idiot who somehow faked a university diploma and teaching credentials. Well, joke's on them, because them shit's is REAL!
Sorry for the crassness. It felt appropriate given the subject matter.
I'm trying to be more positive about my job, as well as life in general. Thus my attempt to deal with the biggest thorn in my side these days with a little bit of humor. I've been in a bit of a funk the past couple of weeks, for a lot of reasons, most of them work related. I've also been feeling kind of homesick, possibly due to the fact that I'll be missing out on a gen-u-ine Caldwell 'Muricahn Christmas this year. But life is only as good as you make it, right? I think the key to happiness is just not letting the jerks get you down.
Another reason I'm feeling positive about life: my box of Fitness Clusters breakfast cereal has a picture of a bad ass looking squirrel on it, and his eyes are narrowed in a very threatening manner....oh, and he's wearing giant boxing gloves . Below the picture it says: "DU VS. HORNCHEN- Fight for your Fruhstuck!" German food packaging often includes a bizarre mix of German and English words, this box of cereal being no exception. It means "You vs. Squirrel: fight for your breakfast!" I've been eating this cereal every morning for a week straight, just so I can chortle at that picture when I stumble into the dark kitchen at an ungodly hour of the day. I've eaten all the cereal now, but I saved the box so that once I get around to charging my camera battery, I can take a picture of the fightin' Sciuridae. (According to Websters Dictionary, this is the particular branch of the rodent family that squirrels belong to.)
I think I may have exhausted all topics of any sort of interest. Oh no, one more.
I watched a FANTASTIC movie on Friday night- Inglourious Basterds. I have to admit, I'm not a huge Tarantino fan. I generally dislike gratuitous violence, and his films tend to contain a lot of it. I found that this one only had minimal amounts though, which made it much more enjoyable, in my humble opinion. I loved the way all the different elements of the plot came together in the end, and I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. I also really got a kick out of being able to understand a lot of the German WITHOUT the assitance of subtitles. Ok, I might have peeked at a few of them, but I understood a lot of it- not too bad for the ol' ego. The icing on the cake was definitely Brad Pitt's accent, as well as the incredibly short appearance by Mike Meyers as a British officer. I've never understood people's obsession with Tarantino, but if all his movies were as fantastic as this one, I think I'd jump on that bandwagon pretty quickly.
I'll post a few pictures below, of recent happenings- just in case anyone reads this and doesn't have Facebook. Haha, look at me, acting as if I have a devoted readership. I do know how to make a joke. And with that, I'm out like an irish stout. Report cards, here I come! (Maybe.)
Katy came to visit! We had a great time, and I introduced her to Dresden's finest Weissbier.
My friend Chris had a slammin' Halloween party. Anne was a vampire (they're so hot right now), and I was Pippi Longstocking....I have trouble coming up with costumes.
I t think Pippi drank one too many G&T's.
My friend Lyn didn't want her fetus to miss out on the fun.
Ok, so this photograph is not recent at all, but I just found it and think it's hilarious. My sister Bridget and I are CLASSY brauds.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)