la lumiere

there is no salvation like a little time alone. il faut reflechir, non? but at the same time, there is also something to be said for taking chances. i can't wait for my next chance to come along.

of course, there are some now that i may have been reserving, not knowing what is good and what is foolish. but ultimately, i'm almost positive my next chance will be in a new place. because here growth is very hard to come by. its too easy to slip into a child-like mentality, living at home, working menial jobs. its easy and comfortable and i like that i'm getting a bit more consistency. but of course, i don' t guess stagnancy is really what life is. its a stage, but not a lifestyle.

there is a time for everything and a season for all under heaven...

it makes me ill

to think of all the time i've wasted, it makes me ill.

i hate to be bitter, but why have i undergone surgery and yet i still am getting the sick feeling? what is wrong with my body? i don't know if i can take it much more. i'm tired of acting like someone i'm not because my body is in survival mode. is it a sign from God? am i not supposed to want to move into the next stage of my life, but remain here forever? i've embraced my current job and current lodgings and really begun to enjoy and partake of each day, but this illness is eating away at me and keeping me from planning for the future. i can't move away if i can't get well. i can't do much at all. maybe this is God breaking me.

its Monday, October 27th. i am 23. i am drinking beer again. i'm sorry to all of you who must deal with my inconsistencies. i want to be able to reach out to others and give. i don't want to be in a cage anymore. i don't want to get drunk to be numb.

if this is all the fault of a certain person, God, I pray that you would remove that problem from my life. if it is not, I pray that you would help me to find a cure. and to be patient again as we begin the search again.

Souvenirs

walking into the first art gallery in my self-guided tour of Bruxelles, discovering it to be a studio specializing in black and white nude female photography. feeling uncomfortable as i underwent a lengthy conversation dominated by the owner.

getting left out in the cold brussels night when the metro stopped 2 before my stop.... wheelin and deelin with the cabbie about picking me up and taking me home instead of his EU client...hoping he really did call a friend cabbie to come get me....raynaud's getting worse... wishing i had a cell and that this homeless man would go away

"stealing"/keeping rental dvds because its too f***ing far to get back and return them

half wishing Jan would ask me to go get a drink, but really just being creeped out by his extremely unhealthy lifestyle (coffee, smoke, repeat), yet still flattered by his poetic and clandestine emails that sometime include pink floyd dedications

addicted to hot baths

listening to ktcu traffic reports

where is Crystal?

what a freak that Mike Warner turned out to be

traveling alone would be better if i knew self-defense and didn't have to compensate with this mace

making rabbit dishes with Mme until she started to get irritable about her impending surgery and yelling at me in front of my friends

regretting that I ever pretended to like le plat "americain" (steak hache/raw ground beef mixed with mayo and onions)...having to eat it multiple times was my punishment

crying my heart out and screaming "have a good time (in french)" in provencal airport because we had to abandon like 4 bottles of wine and i knew what its fate would be

singing to the cabbie to get a 5E discount on our fare

serving pumpkin bread to trick-or-treaters; who knew kids went trick-or-treating in apartment buildings?

calling B&Bs all over Europe with sometimes-operable-Skype

dancing in Barcelona after scouring the city for somewhere decent, while still having the worst case of abdominal burning ever... who am i to give up salsa dancing in barcelona? even if i am incapable (or so i thought) of moving below the waist?

raiding the liquor cabinet when Mme went into the hospital

loving my 10th floor room with a view and my solitude

wild weekends tame a daydreamer's heart and increase productivity M-F

watching friends and the simpson's for the first time (subtitled)

enchanted forest

utmost of obsessions

you have everything to gain by losing

Bonheur

what is the requirement for happiness? or is there not one?

with so many physical problems lately (as compared to my past self) it seems happiness for me is just feeling good, feeling like i'm functioning properly. i hate for my mind to be consumed with problems of my flesh (seems like Jesus had similar reflections). like an old person with a young mind inside an aged body, which is fading and dying, we can't help but surrender to our mortal incapacities. and yet, mind over matter is how i've lived for so long. now, i'm hoping, post-surgery, that i can be completely redeemed of these worries and live life a bit more easily! i just can't help feeling guilty for wanting to be stress-free. i don't guess life really is supposed to be that way. maybe that's why the french translation for happiness is "Good Hour," because happiness isn't necessarily a permanent period. its a lucky or fortunate moment you come upon that must be savoured.

i'll relish in knowing i've been beer-free for over a week now! praise the Lord.

POV

life is a matter of perspective (duh). but i feel i've misrepresented myself on my blog lately, which is a shame. not because a blog is a witness to my soul, or the innermost dealings of my mind, but because in case i die, i would hate this to be all there is left.

so, suffice it to say i have so many thoughts and so little time. if i had kept a record of all of my thoughts, and kept this on a regular basis, i think i would be more pleased with myself. years from now, when many of these mercurial opinions of mine have gone and all that is left is to help someone else discover their own, i will be glad knowing i have at least the little i have written. there was possibly a less arcane way to say that.

i also don't think i've done a great job recording my favorite memories from my travels, so that may be where i start.

if i were a musician, i would write a song. if an artist, i would create a masterpiece. but since God did at least give me the ability to use a pen (which has become a keyboard since it really is faster), i guess i better use it.

Tell Me Why Are We So Blind To See

"Never forget the battles you've fought and won." -Leo McGary, West Wing

"Qui est garde par une etoile ne regarde jamais en arriere." - Leo da Vinci

I am undoubtedly a libra. I've never really put too much stock in the zodiac, but over the past few years, I've come into contact with plenty of people that do. And its starting to make sense in my case. I have definite extremes in my personality and yet I strive for a balance. While you may say that this is common to most people, I don't really think that it is. I consistently am attempting to calm my inner humours by reason and logic. My romantic by the classic. I feel outwardly repressed by conscious decisions, not innate ones. I think, therefore I am. Its a concerted attempt, in other words, to hold myself together. To manage in society. To behave.

Alas. I sometimes think I was more an adult when I was 17 than now. Because now I feel almost like a caged bird. Knowledge is power, or is it torture?

Do I want responsibility or do I want slow and easy? I'm supposed to be living in the moment. Live for now, appreciate this day, don't wish it away (a time for everything under heaven). That is my mantra....la vie en rose. La vie en rose. La vie en rose. But whenever I try, I get feedback from someone who makes me feel ashamed of myself, of my job. Its hard to relax when you're constantly pressed to move forward.
This 24th year will be for me. For making decisions according to my personal agenda. Out of debt, and bien dans ma peau. Then, I will be able to care better for others around me.

Optimist, Pessimist....Realist

a realist. atleast i used to be. with slight tendencies to the optimist.

so if i am one, here is my entry:

straighten clothes, fold clothes, repeat, repeat, repeat, feign interest, joke around, whistle while i work, straighten some more, look at the clock, straighten straighten straighten, talk to people hoping they'll be interesting, put up hangers, think about that one time i had fun once, calculate forty percent off, try to think positively...

human beings are amazing creatures. and i'm convinced i can endure anything temporarily (except being shot in the head (as Gabe pointed out) or other such life-threatening circumstances). besides, you can be in pain, but its your decision whether you suffer or not.


the end.

Stages

This stage of my life is called Arrested Development.

I'm Tired Of Thinkin'
Of What My Life's Supposed To Be (Well)
Soon Enough Darlin'
This Love Will Be Reality

in your element

have you ever noticed how someone can be so alive and excellent at something? when you seem to fail and lack motivation for whatever it is, there is someone who will out-do you with perhaps no extra energy output. with this seemingly effortless performance, they also will light up the room, drawing the attention and respect of those who witness them. they are, simply, in their element. but, how many people do you notice like this on a daily basis?

after accepting a job in retail over six months ago, i'm starting to finally make some decisions. of course they were decisions and angsts i had when first complying, but after all this time i feel like i've used up all my excuses for getting out. the time seems right, now, in a way. or maybe its just that there are reasons to stay (aka getting healthy after surgery), but i'm just afraid of how my self-confidence will fall if i make it to that one year anniversary, heaven forbid.

honestly i don't want to say that i've hated every day. that would be a lie. and of course the job has been extremely convenient and useful for a number of reasons. so maybe this is more just an expression of my pent-up exasperation. i can do anything temporarily, and i'm prepared to (i even want to in order to satisfy all my interests). i've done many things and love that i have for i know i've learned more about myself from each experience (which is essential to growth). i think sometimes i crave to let myself sink in that new circumstance just to see what will happen to me, to my mind, even if i know i'll struggle and even hate it. i think thats especially what this experience was about. for as much as it was convenient, its not for me. and not for the long run. how do people suffer for 9 hours a day on a permanent basis? thats my exasperation. especially when they know they are not in their element? how do they do it?

if you've ever seen billy joel at his piano, or been swept away by some salesman without realizing how quickly he captivated you, you know what this means. we all need to 'get on with what we're good at'. if we did, perhaps we'd witness more superhuman-like feats on a regular basis. people so enthralled with their natural ability to do work they enjoy that most bodily needs and scheming agendas are completely disregarded in lieu of the joy they find in their work. i sure hope all the doctors who've ever worked on me were in their element. every pilot. every underpaid cook.

wouldn't it be nice?

crystal severson

i love her. you should know without further ado.

Decoys

am i being distracted by decoys? people who are tempting me from my true calling?

i definitely think its possible, but sometimes its very hard to tell. the road is recondite and i struggle to remain fixed or waver and relax.

31 Today

That is the name of Aimee Mann's latest song. When I'm 31, in about 8 years, I'm supposed to be giving birth to my youngest child, and a girl at that. Its a tradition with the women in my family. If I don't continue the honestly accidental tradition, I will feel slightly unmagical. For it really is completely unplanned. My great-grandmother had my grandmother (the youngest and a girl), she my mother, and my mother me.
But that's not what this was going to be about.
When I'm 31, I don't want to be singing the lyrics to this song. Because if I am, it would mean I would be still stuck in the quagmire of retail, a new glaze of sorrow and giving-up applique applied to my gifted mind, potential deteriorating.
While I strive to become more laid-back, I never want to lose the passion of a driven girl. A girl bent on dreaming and pursuing. But, working retail will kill you. It will kill your soul.
This last sip of $3.76 Target Clearance Zinfandel is for you, you who are stuck in crappy wage jobs that mean nothing. May you find something that you enjoy and that fulfill you. If you aren't being challenged, you're probably not growing and your brain is dying. And that can' t be good. I hope you have the courage to pull up and out. Rip off your comfort cloak like a band-aid and go! I hate suburbia.

If I'm in the same spot I am now in 8 years, may I look back and know that I lost a lot of my minutes of my life. And I deprived you of my gifts. Dommage.

One element of retail that I hate the most is the incessant focus on body image. Isn't that what I'm supposed to be curing myself of? My epitaph will read, Miss Laura, who loved many, whose mood often depended on her perception of her appearance, and who wasted the time given to her and took not advantage of the blessings of family and upbringing for which she should have worked to repay. All of the hopes of her ancestors and close family rested on her, but she chose the easy way and was contented in a dressing room, cringing at fake nails and cell phones. She was contented because it was easy and she was tired of hard and more than happy to accept easy.

"You're thinking of me, the same old way
You were above me, but not today
The only difference is you're down there
I'm looking through you, and you're nowhere"
- the Beautiful Beatles

Lord, lead me from this monotony.

Henry Rollins and Stephen Colbert

Ciao No Mas

while goodbye doesn't mean forever, it definitely seems like it. have you ever lived vicariously through your past? every two seconds, when i try to type a y or a z, and end up typing the wrong one because ive already trained my muscle memory to do the opposite, i find myself remembering germany and its sweet way of life. its not the beer (only). its the laid-back, environmentalist, speed if you want but never litter, eat/drink as you like and forget about class unless you're a woman upwards of fifty, lifestyle that is so refreshing. compare it to france. or the USA. where else in the world can you legally enjoy yourself as in germany? im not into drugs, but in germany, if you want to roll your own weed in a public restaurant, its fine. if you want to fire your own fireworks from your backyard, people will gather to watch and cheer. there is little to no basis for discrimination (WWII took pride away from a lot of traditional venues) and so people are so generally humble and accepting.

i miss it greatly. this time last week i was sleeping off at least a liter of combined local castle-brew beer (thurnundtaxis.de) and cold/warm guiness from the irish pub i went clubbing in with my aunt and uncle. i have now shared oktoberfest and clubbing with adults my parents age who also are related to me. great memories.

Je ne regrette rien

That title is a blasted lie. while it may be a beautiful song, i just dont think i can ever say 'i have no regrets'. I think to regret is to admit that you hoped for more, or better, to have made wiser choices and to have squeezed every last drop of goodness from some experience, and i dont think thats a bad thing. To regret isn't to not feel happy or satisfied, in fact, it is to wish that something you did or did not do may have made those feelings more intense, could have rendered you (or someone else) feelings of a much stronger nature. It is only that you wanted more life in it.

Regret is unhealthy if you let it obsess you and you take no lesson in it.

With little desire for a good segue, Ill proceed to my next subject, which is that of Thoreau. It seems he always come back to me in one sense or another, and I am so blessed to have picked up a great copy called Reflections at Walden, which comes illustrated with photographs! A picture philosophy book! What could be better? Especially if you don't like philosophy, the pictures act as a spoonful of sugar. But of course I do like philosophy and so I pretty much scored on both accounts. Anyway, what I learn from Thoreau every time is the lesson on simplicity. He is what motivated me long ago, during my summer in NYC, about being content with little. I often like to control my circumstances, more than most people (I think), and as that is an unhealthy and immature way to live, his morals are so helpful to remember. And at this moment it is just what the doctor ordered. Lately Ive forgotten the lesson in simple, but Im reminded of my lifestyle habits starting a year ago, up until this Christmas. I taught myself to live with basically nothing, alone and without pleasures of the trivial kind. Its true that at these times I was my happiest.

If you've ever seen the movie Hurricane (Denzel Washington) or read anything on Rubin Hurricane Carter, he teaches the same lesson.

notes from the couch

i am in love with a German man who makes yeast cakes, rips them apart with his bare hands, and smothers them in vanilla sauce. theres something so erotic about it.

ok. i don't know where that came from; i think ive been watching too much woody allen lately. but its true that dampfnudel uli is my heart's delight. hes what everyone should be: content with their job, their skill in life, and the service they rend to other people. he will forever be in my book of people to admire, simply because everyday he is a gift to those who know him, and only because he chooses to acknowledge they exist and they matter. and he also chooses to orally please them with scrumptious cakes, as i described ein minuten ago.
if every German is like him, then i could blindly point to one and be happy matrimonially for the rest of time. unlike French guys. speaking of which, if you haven't read A Year in the Merde, i def suggest it as a remarkably accurate depiction of French culture, if not somewhat uncomfortably sexual (but still accurate).

given that the last few blogs ive written have all been kinda silly, im gonna have to lay off for awhile. i don't mean to self-deprecate. i just mean to say that i should consider what it is that im writing before i do it.

i know i wanted to mention something about the meaning of life. or the reason i think i should never have to work a real job. or how everything i learn, no matter how painful the experience, i always forget and have to learn it again, like a sunburn.
im becoming more like my brother everyday. one time i complained to him about my 9-5 job and he told me, yes, its terrible, and if given the choice he'd rather live in poverty. im beginning to realize why.

thats about it from this end. i need to sleep and not continue to spout.

in a nutshell: i wish i had more time over here. i wish i were in control of myself. i wish i could forever learn that freedom is only in doing without and in terminating your desire. like rubin hurricane carter. i also wish i could meet and marry albert, prince thurn und taxis (of the family that created the TAXI). the family is from regensburg and when asked how many castles they own, said, is it 25 or 26? (NYTimes interview)

favorite German beer: still munchen hofbrauhaus, dunkel.
favorite German artist: till bronner
favorite regensburg bathroom: the one in the hotel orphee, because it has a clear glass wall that looks down into a medieval turret and makes you scared youll see rodents running up and down while you're trying to go.
favorite vegetarian dish ive cooked since being here: eggplant parm. its bank.


i hope you've enjoyed my candid nonsense. substance is for over-achievers.

Heisse Pursuit

Thats right. I am now in hot pursuit. After too much time at home (in Regensburg) doing schoolwork and applying for jobs, and not nearly enough time in town mingling with the burgers, I have come to the conclusion that my mission is not complete. What happened to my incessant need to fraternize? Have I become too withdrawn? Or am I just a lazy freak, exhausted after six months of fighting public transport, a circulation disease, and the unknown? All of these things, when taken in moderation, are wonderful. Don't misunderstand; I would rather be on a bus over here than in a Dodge Ram killing the environment. I think my laziness just results from the fact that I really am overwhelmed by the luxury of my aunt and uncle's house, their amazing view of the countryside and local monastery, and literally mental and physical exhaustion from the past semester. Nothing wrong with that; I've watched a heck of a lot of movies that I've needed to: lots of WWII films- check, lots of political films and Native American films- check, lots of German porn- check... (seriously(ok not seriously(well, believe whatever you want))). But sadly, I have not yet gotten intimate with a local. And when I say intimate I mean chatting about European litterature over ein kaffee. I haven't even danced in the street with an old man, which is usually inevitable.
Well, all this is just to say that for the next 5 days, I'm gonna be shopping for Germans. The last few Ive been shopping for sweet souvenirs, but after finding the most kick-ass boots for 290€ (but which were of course the only decent choice), and deciding against them, I have decided to quit the quest for great German stuff and have reinstated my original goal- hanging out with the people. Its what I should have been doing all along; I blame it on my apparent vulnerability of being a material girl. How shallow! I disgust myself.
This probably is the strangest blog Ive written in awhile, but je m'en fiche because I have a new lease on life and it stems from the freedom of someone who has been redeemed from their chains of wanting things instead of experiences. I guess its what happens when you live with adults who go to work 8-5 everyday and bed at 11. I pray that fate never becomes me. Theres actually a great quote on Thoreau perfect for this situation....hold on while i find it...
Emerson, on Thoreau: ''He declined to give up his large ambition of knowledge and action for any narrow craft or profession, aiming at a much more comprehensive calling, the art of living well.''

Reflections

I wish I could go back six months. Back to July. I would love to relive the last six months because I was on my own in Europe and now I'm beginning to not be. I'm over here, but I'm making plans for the future, rather than out and mingling with its people (ok- i'm doing some of that) and its mostly-interesting museums. My parents and aunt and uncle are putting a lot of pressure on me to find a professional job, which, by all means, is the smartest thing to do. While I'd rather be waitressing and learning Spanish in some little Fort Worth restaurant, thats really not going to pay me anything. But who cares, you say? Why is money an issue? I have so many things already. Yes, you're absolutely right. I have so much debt. And I don't plan on living in mediocrity. A friend of mine and I once had a great misunderstanding about the term 'living simply'. What the hell is that anyway? Can you live simply and live with things? I'm still not totally sure I understand what she was trying to tell me, but from my POV living simply means living with limited desire. Or at least, limited desire for the things that are trivial. Unfortunately, the desires which I have for things that I believe to be for me are indispensable, also happen to be expensive. We have so much desire, but little need, is the truth. But my little need is expensive! I've curbed all the desires I could care less about- possessions, fashion (ok i didnt curb that one, i found a thrift store and a needle and thread) indulgences - but its that what I want for myself in the next few years that are the most expensive. I need an apartment in New York, grad school, loans paid off, and the most important of all...money for dance classes. It would be ideal if you, reader, would like to be my sugar daddy and give me a nice little savings account so I can cross off the method with which I'm supposed to be amassing all this money (a job), which in turn will also give me back all my freedom I will be sacrificing to do it. After another lengthy conversation with the aunt and uncle, one thing I'd been closeting has come to light: I can't make any more ties until I get dance in my life again. I can't marry (I can't even date), can't live in Fort Worth, can't put down roots, really, because these would all be contrary to my pursuit of happiness. Do you see? I may sound crazy, but ultimately, I will be happy. These things are sacrifices for me, too. Don't you think I want to move home, 'be' with somebody, eat regularly? But after so much struggle (the past two years I mean) I can't give up now. These things are dangerous to the lifestyle I want for the next few years. My dance clock is ticking, see. I hope you don't read this and judge me as some neurotic control freak. But if thats what I am, ok. Its just a dream I have. And I think I'm the one who has to make it a priority, or no one else will. I can't expect them to, and can't blame them. I can only blame me. So, please, keep your cake, I don't want any wine, I don't wanna hang out and see if we'll go somewhere, unless you mean literally, as in where you'll follow me. My struggle is that I want to be simple, content, and 'easy-going', and for the most part, on a daily basis I am. But when I catch myself wanting these things on a permanent basis, its then I realize my ambition has somehow seeped away, been absorbed by the lazy freedom of being out of college and away from former authorities, been smothered by the comforting vision of a stable home and family... and I realize I'd much rather continue to be ambitious and determined. Forgive me if I ever have that scary look in my eye, if it flits by when we're hanging out. But the reason my resume looks so good now, which you applaud me for, is cause its always been there, and no matter what I do, will never go away. I just can't be one of those people with little ambition. My Plato's Cave is where the sun is shining and I can almost touch it.

A Vision, Bruised and Dented

Yep, its decided. I wasn't cut out for love. While I know this sounds naive, temporary, maybe even ridiculous, its true. I came close to getting near the fire and it hurt. And now that I look at the whole situation, I realize how happy I am that I didn't. Its just way too much pressure and I am still too independent for that. Its kindof sad, but looking on the bright side, I never wanted it anyway. I think Im just one of those people who loves family, but loves them only part-time. So unless you can handle me, a floozy, a Carmen, a butterfly...

I love people and I hate being alone. But sometimes you have to remember how nice it is to be alone, because it gives you the chance to meet other people. It makes total sense. But its often scary. But always surprising!

If you are my friend, and you feel I've reneged on my responsibilities thereupon, I would appreciate a little confrontation, for its never my intention to neglect. I love my friends, but at the moment theres too much to do to think about commitments. Hmmm...

Urges

Ok. So this title may be a bit, well, bizarre, uncomfortable, questionable, irresistible (for some of you), but I happen to think its appropriate and hell, im gonna use it.

I have the urge to write a book. I love to read, and so why not do what the sketchy guy I met in New York did and act so engrossed by my work that I publish it and then use it to get girls (in my case boys)? Since this is probably confusing, let me explain. One night while reading in my favorite cafe just north of Gramercy Park, I suddenly felt the eyes of a man upon me. Resisting the urge to turn and look, as I was not in the mood for conversation, I finally gave in and glanced. The millisecond he had of my gaze he did not waste. ''So you're interested in art!'' he exclaimed, eying my The Book of Art, ten pound volume. ''Me too!''...and so commenced the conversation, of which the dialogue is not important, but which allowed for a most hilarious revelation. The man finally explained the book and then, as if by accident, when I said, ''oh wow! who's the artist?'' he said, ''ah well, its mine!'' So much for suave, or subtle. Anyway, it wasn't the worst example of bragadociousness I've ever witnessed, and probably more tolerable than someone perhaps unrestrainedly obsessed with themselves who use it not just to impress you, but dominate you. So, I think I'll do what he did and write a book, originally begun from a personal urge to understand this whirlwind of a life I've been living, and eventually use it as a piece of work that will mesmerize thousands.

To be totally honest, I really just want to write because I feel that conversation is too insufficient a medium for explaining to friends and family just all I feel I've been through this past semester. By nature, people engage in conversation because they truly are interested, but time and energy are too brief for them to get very deep. And there are too many distractions. So as I want to relate to you just how incredible a semester I've had, to better inspire your travels, or your interest in the wider world, in taking chances and giving safety a back seat to living, I need to write it down. At the very least I need to commit to this blog.

At this point, I feel overwhelmed with all I have seen and done and dont really want to begin. Its veritably the disadvantage of being here so long- the things that would stand out to a normal traveler become blurred and a bit commonplace. Its a struggle just to remember to make note of things. i have this foreboding feeling that I'm going to forget everything I've done, but especially everything I've learned about myself. Its such a haunting feeling. To know we will forget what we learned to never forget, yikes. There must be some way to keep perspective. Sometimes I feel I have wanted to forget. Like when I saw my parents for the first time, who happen to be the symbol of safety and reassurance to me, I instantly felt cured. Cured of all my inapts that I convince myself of. Safe from all the dangers of traveling alone. And for two weeks while they were here, I slept perfectly, lost my appetite, was totally at peace. But of course I wasn't introspective at all or confronted with anything that I had to personally deal with. There is a quote by Helen Keller which I think applies perfectly to this situation. It comes from a book my brother and I are reading called, Lies My Teacher Told Me that belongs to my uncle. ''People do not like to think. If one thinks, one must reach conclusions. Conclusions are not always pleasant,'' she is quoted. Anyway, I guess this is why I think I must be growing up. Because I know the safety provided by my parents is false.

But needless to say, the past five months have been a whirlwind of thought and excitement. I'm just beginning to figure out what's going on with me. At the moment I'm a bit drunk on the idea of staying in Europe forever because I'm young, I love the nightlife, and I'm afraid to go home, get a real job, and get stuck. Give me the arsenic now. I'd rather suffer circulation-wise forever than succumb to that. If you've ever met someone with Reynauds, you know what I mean, and therefore how dramatic that last statement is. Its just that I love it over here and love going out! I love the United States too (I've read A Walk Across America and I listen to Springsteen), but so many things about it just DO NOT COMPARE!

So gimme courage, gimme perspective, and help me to decide whether/not leaving my family for another few years is worth staying here. Cause I certainly don't know. I love them and miss them tremendously. But the goal now is: make money, pay debts, become a dancer. I know its my destiny, and it would be a crime against God and myself if I were to ignore it. So please hold me accountable! However it fits into the formula, it must be there or I'm afraid I'll go mad. I'll give into some other desire which is equally obsessive but also self-destructive.

So there's one self-disclosure: I've an extremely addictive personality. I once got addicted to hot baths. Then it was herbal tea. Then working out. And then Baileys. Then, fun! But at the moment I seem to have them all curbed. I want to avoid being a neurotic freak if its not obvious. Addictions are bad news and I'm only grateful to be this way so I can sympathize with others who have become victims unwillingly.

A real entry is coming soon. But for the mean time, I'll share a bit whats been going down here in Germany since the holidays were over: movies, starting West Wing, cooking vegetarian with my aunt, gazing out wistfully at the snow (as a forced hermit) but sad that my blood can't handle it except for on limited occasions, an exciting New Years Eve party with real Bavarians, job-hunting in Paris...

good movies:
Bridge Over Madison County
High Fidelity
The Color Purple
Somethings Gotta Give (never thought Id relate to that one...but sadly)
The Hours
Joni Mitchell Documentary
One Night on Earth
The Graduate
Patton
Annie Hall
Silkwood

Ciao no mas-

True Happiness

family and connection

czech republic

life in the jewish quarters

holiday in deutschland

future plans

good movies

relief!

saying goodbye to brussels