Reality Bites... or Reality Can Bite Me

Reality is what you make it. It's all in your head. Isn't that what they say? Well, starting from Plato's cave I suppose it is true. We all perceive reality in some way, but never see the whole picture. Each time science, or philosophy for that matter, discovers something new our view on what constitutes reality changes. We now know that what we see is not all there is to it. And just because we cannot see something does not mean it is not there. I'm not talking about ghosts, although I would include them in this category. But just think of bacteria crawling on a table. Now that we have microscopes we can prove they are there, but without it we don't see them. 

And more, everybody sees things in their own way, on the basis of their physical and psychological situation: the table I see is not the same table that you see. We may see the colours differently, or maybe I grew up in a culture where I have only ever seen tiny little wicker tables and suddenly, when seeing a wooden dinner table seating 8 am astonished that this is possible. And even further, just the word table, assuming we both speak English and understand its meaning, will summon a different picture in our minds, and will never include everything a table in reality is or can be. It is only an approximation, Derrida sends his regards... But this is not really what I want to talk about.

So, back to reality. What is real? And who says it is? If I experience something, with my senses that lead the information into my brain, which in turn interprets that in some way, then I experience a reality. Say, if I touch that dinner table, and feel that it is cold, that the wood has this slightly grooved pattern, I can see it is brown, I might even still smell the wood if it's new, or the polish someone used to make it shiny, then my senses send this information to my brain, which tells me after interpreting all the facts that this is indeed a table. It is real, empirically. So how is this experience then any more real than if I had the same experience in a dream? An experience that I have experienced should mean just the same, if in a dream or when awake. How do I even know if I am awake, would Descartes ask, if my experiences in a dream feel the same? How do I know that this reality here, now, is not all a dream? It does not make much more sense than a dream, so what is the difference? Do I wait for a pink bunny to hop by to decide which is real and which isn't?  And if it did, how would I be sure that pink bunnies in fact do not exist after all? Maybe someone just went a little crazy with a can of spray paint?

No, don't worry, I don't think I have gone mad. I do like these thought experiments, though. Reality is what you make in your head, reality is what your brain summarises from all the information it gets from you, whether through the senses or even through memories, and sometimes through false memories or dreams, which is where it can get tricky. But it is not always something substantial in the 'real world' that let's me experience something. Why else do I get sad when thinking about breaking up with the last boyfriend almost 3 weeks ago, even though I saw the reasons for it to happen? Logically there is no reason to be sad, psychologically (ha, I love that this has logic in it too, the logic of the psyche, as in opposed to rational logic...), however, my body reacts to the experience with tears and that sagging feeling in my stomach. Experiences turn into physical manifestations. Your body makes them into something, it reacts. And strangely enough, sometimes the body reacts to something, in some way, even though you know that there is no real reason for it to do so. And strange situations ensue. 

The other day, when everything came crashing down on me all at once, from every imaginable corner of my life, and it was all too much suddenly, I had a panic attack. A mild one, if I go by accounts of it. But frightening nonetheless. And I knew it was a panic attack, I knew that the feeling of choking and my body fighting for breath was just my body reacting to too much stress, and that even though it felt like I might, I would not die. I even knew I had to reach out to someone to calm me down, and started texting whoever came to mind, which in my confused state was quite random, asking for someone to arrange to meet. Even if not right then, the prospect of a chance to just cry on someone's shoulder would have helped. Only my ex replied, which I am still grateful for, even if he was definitely not the best choice in the situation. But I was panicking. I still needed someone to calm me down though, and simply accosted my one flatmate who was at home, who looked very scared, but managed to calm me down, say the right things, and just let me breathe. Other than the other one who, when he got home, somehow managed to make everything worse, and every single sentence he said was like a kick in the guts while I was already down. Even though I know he just wanted to help, all I wanted was for him to shut up, but I couldn't say anything, not even get up and leave the room. Anyway, throughout all this I was aware that all my bodily reactions, the choking and the cramps in my stomach, were not actually based on anything other than my thoughts. 

So how real are thoughts then? I mean, I know that now I am broke, I have no job and trouble finding one, and am alone again without a man who is there to hold me and give me at least the illusion of a partnership. I also know that I need to focus on things I like, and things I need, to counterbalance the negatives. And I know that things will get better soon, because I have always found a job, and chances are much better in the next couple of months than they have been until now, purely statistically speaking. I know that I will survive for money, because there are ways to deal with my situation, like benefits and lovely flatmates who agreed to help by postponing the rent. And I know that I can live my life without that man, maybe even better, and that there are so many things I enjoy doing, and so many people to enjoy these things with. How do I know if any of that is real? How do I know that maybe not the negatives are the reality, and that my other flatmate was right when he said it was my fault I didn't get that last job because I posted a comment about me wanting the job on Facebook, and that I will never find a job if I don't get happy pills right now even though taking pills will make me feel so much worse because I will consider that like I'd have crossed that last line? I mean, all this sounds just so wrong to me, but how do I know that maybe this is what's right and I am the one who's wrong? Because my gut tells me?

Well, reality is what you make of it. So all I gotta do is decide what I consider to be real, right? Decide, and the body will follow, eventually. At the moment it just sometimes takes too much energy to decide, or even to notice that there is a choice. I mean, there is always a choice, even if I don't see it. It is all a matter of what my mind lets me see and what not. Or rather, what I let my mind allow me to see. After all, I am the one creating my reality, and my choices. I just wish I had finally figured out how to control all that a little more, so that I can decide on my experiences and my reality, and not let experiences create a reality for me. Tricky...             

Fighting the Zombie in Me

  I have my Japanese dad staying with me at the moment, and he will be sharing my room for two months. I know I will probably wish for some solitude at some point during this time, but right now I am so glad that he is here. And he has made me notice in just what state I have been in lately, something I had not realised, not to that extent at least...

  Shortest way to describe it: I've been zombified. Spending days on end on job search and applications, being glued to the computer, sounds like I should be wanting to get out and run around every chance I get, right? I kind of do. Doesn't work that way though. 

  At the moment this situation drains every last bit of energy, to the extent that if I don't pay attention I don't manage to get out at all into the fresh air (well, this is London, so fresh air is a relative term, but you know what I mean, right?). Worse, I get so drawn into these applications that I have even on occasion forgotten to eat or things like that. And it is difficult to conjure up the energy to take initiative and meet friends unless they call, which is very isolating. I am a social person, I need human contact, an evening out with friends to catch up, sitting around and just having a laugh and a nice chat about something, anything, as long as it's not exclusively about finding a job gives me so much energy... 

  Unfortunately my mind won't come up with topics by itself these days, as all revolves around applications and the misery of existential fears creeping up on me. Which eats away on my energy. Which makes it harder to arrange to meet friends for a change of scenery. Which keeps me stuck with more applications and thoughts about fears. Which drains more energy... you see where I'm going with this? A bottomless downward spiral...

  Having my otousan here has forced me to wake up. He is one of those people who can hardly stop smiling, or talking for that matter, and even if it is all in Japanese and trying to dig out that vocabulary somewhere in the back of my mind to follow his stories or reply myself takes a lot of energy, it has a different effect on me. My brain seems to work again! Well, in the sense that it can bring up stories or anecdotes again that have nothing to do with throwing in key words such as flexible or multi-tasking. And I remember that there were actually things out there that I was interested in. Like books! Like history! Like art and museums, and just learning new things! And I love taking friends around and showing them London, finding things or places to interest them so that they can fall in love with this place the same way that I have.

  So, even if I'll have no moment of quiet in a while and no spare time between job hunt, my volunteer job, and taking otousan around London, at least that means I will also have no time to dwell on breaking up with the boyfriend or on worries about what will happen if the job hunt doesn't bear fruit anytime soon. And I can finally fight the zombie off and start to think again! Reclaim my brain, the slogan of the day...

  

     

Step by Step...

... and no, I don't mean the song by New Kids on the Block. I just realised that it's kind of strange, that I know exactly that I have to go through this step by step. Breakups tend to go through this pattern with me. First there's the hurt and the sense of failure when I realise that my feelings are not reciprocated and the relationship is not going to work. Then logic sets in and between bouts of illogical hurt and tears explains that this is the way it is. Mostly I get to anger about the same time, and betrayal because he was not honest about his feelings, pretended too long and had me believe it was something mutual. Anger is the easiest part for me to deal with, easy to talk about, easy to let out, easy to overcome. The sense of failure is the hardest, and I still don't know how to handle it. Then at some point the next step is almost unnoticeable, but suddenly it gets better, things that happened don't matter that much anymore, and the realisation that this is just another experience, and the next one will come, sets in. It still hurts on occasion, but not that much anymore. 

I know this is what is going to happen, I just wish I could already be out of this paralysing feeling of hurt, which blocks out logic and reason. Well, I guess it's gotta be one step at a time...  

The Weight of the World

Black clouds have surpassed themselves. But let's start with the bright side: I got an interview invite, and even if that is only one step, and who knows what happens next, it is certainly a booster. 

But the boyfriend issue has flared up, badly. Here I thought I had found someone who is grown up enough to have an honest relationship with, and then at the first sign of a problem, when I question his behaviour, he has suddenly decided that he doesn't like me enough to want to be with me anymore. Just great. And the night before he had apparently forgotten all about that, very conveniently. Even greater. So, either he is a total jerk who has knowingly lied to me for months with every word and bit of behaviour, or is he a colossal coward who wouldn't admit his feelings, either to himself if the bit of not liking enough is true, or to me if his behaviour is true.

So now, instead of preparing for my interview on Monday I can hardly concentrate on anything, let alone see through bursts of tears. Exactly what I needed. Job trouble, man trouble, money trouble... and I'm feeling sick, but that's probably because of being upset. It feels like all the weight of the world is crushing down on me. Black clouds concentrate... 

I know it will only take a bit of time and then all is getting better, I just really wish I was there already, cause this here is seriously no fun. At least my Japanese dad is coming to visit from Saturday, he is always happy and funny and will be a great distraction.  

It's all gonna be better soon, but just now the weight is feeling like it's unbearable. Apparently I still haven't learned how to deal with crisis... or November. Which is potentially the same thing...    

Chasing Away Black Clouds

Well, November is almost gone, and I haven't posted anything in a while. Mainly because I didn't know what to talk about. I still haven't found a job here, which is strange... I have never had a problem finding a job before, but this time? I don't even understand why. And despite it all, I am still convinced I will have a job very soon. But I've been convinced for a while now... 

Another surprising thing is how little it depresses me. This jobhunting is stressful, it is frustrating, all those applications I spend hours or days preparing and then I don't even get a reply, yes, it is very very frustrating. But I usually keep in good spirits, and focus on things to balance out the application stress, like yoga, or books, or my volunteering in the charity shop. And that in the face of me not being able to pay my rent anymore next month. I have applied for benefits, but it's been 2 months and they still haven't made a decision, which means I am still unsure how it will go on. But luckily my friends here in the flat are so lovely and let me pay whenever I do get money again. Another thing to be glad about.

But then the black clouds swoop in, rarely, but if they do they rain down on me with force. Which is why I am sitting here, at 2am, writing. Writing just to get it out. Get what out exactly? I am not even sure. 

It's the frustration about the jobhunt that hardly even brings a response, after something like 140 applications; it's insecurity about what might be if the benefits still haven't come through when the last money runs out; it's a sudden feeling of loneliness, which is kind of normal when you sit cooped up with your laptop working hours on end, day and night, on ways to convince some unknown entity at the end of an email address or website, who you hope is actually real, or even human, that you are the right person for the job, but at the cost of human contact. It's the disappointment that my boyfriend, who really has been a rock for me in all of this, even if he doesn't realise it because he doesn't understand all this feelings stuff, needs time to do things on his own, alone or with his friends, and it's my paranoia reading things into this which I will probably laugh about in a couple of days. It's the frustration about having agreed to let a friend of my flatmates stay in my room with me the last nights that I will have it to myself, out of some misplaced sense of guilt towards them because I can't pay the rent next month, even though I don't even particularly like their friend... 

Tonight will be my last night alone in here for quite a while, since I have my Japanese dad come and visit, for at least a month and a bit, but that is something I am very much looking forward to. Yes, it may be that I will wish for a room to myself at some point during his stay, but I am looking forward to having someone around whose company I enjoy, and who will make sure, just by being here, that I won't have time to worry about black clouds in a while. And my Japanese sister and her nephew will follow at Christmas, so it will be a bit like camping in here I suppose, but I like camping with people I love.

So here they are, the clouds, and keep me awake. Tomorrow is a new day, I have an appointment again at the jobcentre, not that they help with getting a job, after all, what can they do that I am not already doing anyway? No, they need to check that I am still looking, even if I don't know what has become of my benefit claim yet that requires me to check in with them. I fail to see the logic in that, but there you go... 

Maybe tomorrow somebody will know what has happened to my claim. Maybe tomorrow I will receive a reply that at least invites me to an interview, I've had far to few of those. Maybe tomorrow the clouds will have rained all they had and vanished to let me see the blue sky again. I will do all I can to chase them away. Tomorrow.    

 

Autumn Smells

And then sometimes when your body doesn't function properly, or rather has to fight off the alcohol you just drank and thus neglects your sense of balance, it sometimes heightens other senses. So there I was, I had had 3 pints, which is under normal circumstances not terribly much for me, but that day it hit me so that I couldn't even finish the last pint. On the bus back home I started getting really dizzy, very uncomfortably dizzy indeed, so that I decided to get out at Newington Green and walk the alcohol off. And even though I was tired and just wanted my bed, the hour it took me to get home from there was a really nice experience. Strangely enough.

See, either it was the lateness of the evening and fewer cars around that could dilute the smell, or just my body focussing more on smell since other functions were a little impaired, I am not sure. But on the way, on this slightly damp autumn night, I had to pass three parks, and I vividly remember the beautiful smell. 

This is autumn, this is how autumn smells. Like damp brown leaves, like wet earth, like the coming of rain and storm on a green lawn... There is still some life in this smell, other than the somewhat dry winter smell where you can smell nothing green, nothing alive. And it is yet warm enough to carry well through the air, together with the drizzle that seems to be settling in for the season. This is the smell that brings back images of red and yellow leaves on a tree being shaken about by the wind; of fighting against the blow of the wind while walking in the storm, huddled up in a big warm jacket and a scarf that is whipping the air behind you; of the hot tea waiting at home and the amazing feeling when you settle back down into the warmth...

So, I guess it is not always bad to feel drunk and dizzy, if it helps to notice some of the beauty around us. To an extent...

       

Just one of those days...

Have you had one of those days where everything just seems to go wrong? You know, when even getting out of bed just didn't sit right, and whatever you do that day, it just doesn't stop coming down on you? Well, this just seemed to be mine today.

It actually started the day before, when my laptop began to make this breathtaking noise, as in I could hardly take a breath because I was so worried that she might die on me any second. So I decided to just switch her off and see what would happen after she had had some rest (my laptops are usually male and named after Jane Austen characters, however this one, as was, incidentally, one of my gerbils who passed away about a decade ago, is called Mrs. Selwyn, from the novel Evelina... and seems to be equally stubborn). After a few hours she was still making sounds as if she was choking to death, and I panicked. I live on this computer, my entire life depends on it. Or so it seems. My, if I had heard myself say this even 10 years ago, I would have slapped myself real hard and told me to get back to real life... You know, where you spend face to face time with friends, not write emails or chat on Facebook. But these days, the days of The Great Jobhunt, I spend hours searching for vacancies, applying and polishing up my CV and cover letters. Not to speak of my only source of income these days, translating and proofreading gay novels. So, the prospect of losing this laptop, and not having the funds to buy a new one or pay for a costly repair, was sheer blinding terror that threatened my entire future, as far as I was concerned. 
So, first thing: Got an appointment at the Apple store for a check up, though the next available was only 5 days later. 5 days! What if it dies tomorrow? And with all my documents on the harddrive? Thus, next step, send all the important things from one to another email account, to be sure they are somewhere out there on the internet when I need them. 

Sounds almost calm and composed, doesn't it? Well, it might sound that way, but I certainly wasn't. I was panicking. The kind with tears in my eyes and not being able to see clearly how to deal with the problem. I don't know what it is about technology, but it has a way of stressing me out to unimaginable levels. Maybe because I don't understand it beyond certain limits, and am left helpless. And I hate being helpless. 

Which brings me to the general feeling these days, that only added to my exciting laptop experience: I am still looking for a job, and a hundred applications down the line I simply don't understand what I am doing wrong. I am qualified, I am more than motivated to work, I have unique experience to bring to the job AND am happy and willing to learn whatever it takes to do good work, and STILL I get only rejection emails, if anything at all. What other keywords do you guys want to hear, I wonder? What am I doing wrong? And that at a stage where my savings are running dangerously low, too... Not really what you would call a balanced state of mind, I gather. 

But, I am not finished. Then add a spot of bother with the boyfriend, well, not bother as such, just a phase of a bit distanced behaviour where he doesn't react in that happy way to me that he used to and instead seems to need his space... at any other time I would probably be the one needing a bit of space, and I certainly understand the concept and have no problem accepting it. Today, paranoia sets in, and a shoulder shrug grows into a deeply meaningful rejection, even while he is hugging me. Ah, the sheer endless power of the mind... On the bright side, I certainly haven't lost my very vivid imagination. How much my paranoid interpretations contain a grain of truth will yet need to be seen... What was the saying again? Just because you are paranoid doesn't mean they are NOT out to get you...

So, jobless, running out of means of living, rejected in so many instances and on various levels, even by my computer, and waking up this morning with a horrible start as soon as I remembered this trouble... and THEN I find out the guarantee for the laptop has just run out 2 weeks ago... I can only say, it is a miracle I only drank one pint. Oh, and also, it is raining and friggin' cold... Just to make that clear.

So, what do you do when it all just seems to be out to get you? Sit down and cry? Doesn't help much. I know, I've tried. Well, it does help to just get it all out for a while, until you are so tired that you have no choice but to stop. But then? 

I guess everyone has their own recipe for such a situation. I don't actually have a recipe, though, I always end up with something different after a day has attempted to crush me with all its weight. Today I ended up applying for a job at the St. Pancras hotel, for no logical reason other than I simply love the building so much. I watched its progress when I was living in the area and walked by almost every day, and have desperately tried getting an Open House ticket for a tour, with all my email addresses and all those of my flatmates, too, but in vain. So I figured, well, I speak languages, they should like that, and I really really REALLY want to get into that building and see what they've done to the place, and not just the lobby. So, be it for an interview, or even better, get a job there, but this way I at least have a possible chance to see it. Now it just remains to see what comes of it... 

What already HAS become of it is that I am currently sitting here, calm and composed, and waiting for the backup of all my files onto my flatmate's harddisk to finish, while I type up this little story and dream of all the possibilities a job application provides. I must say, the possibility of perhaps spending the Christmas season in one of the most impressively restored lobbies I have seen does, as far as job fantasies go, rank quite up there among the top numbers, even if it includes a few grumpy posh guests having a go at me here and there.       

More Music for Life!

Music was my first love and it will be my last... or how did that song go again? Anyway, I love music. I have been ecstatic about music. I miss those teenage days where music was all important and so powerful that a song could completely overwhelm me. I miss the emotion behind it...

But even now, I live with music, I have a life soundtrack that hums in my mind, if not otherwise, as just now, on I Tunes while I type... It is quite interesting to see what songs suddenly pop into my mind in certain situations, mostly triggered by a word I heard or read, or a fragment of melody I came across. 

Despite all this, there is still another level to music when you sit down and play it yourself. I have my flute with me, and have started again to play quite regularly. Not seriously as I used to, back when I took lessons and was supposed to practice at least an hour each day. Which basically meant that I was VERY good at reading from the sheet without ever having practiced that piece before. But I did play quite often, with the school orchestras and with friends, and it is just such a wonderful feeling when you feel the music coming together and forming one whole piece of art. 

For myself I play quite often just to relax, take my mind of things, and just flow with the melody. A kind of meditation, if you will. Especially with the flute that works very well, since you have to breathe with the music, and breathe deeply at that. It relaxes. It calms me down. It puts things in perspective. And it may annoy my neighbours, but since nobody has ever said anything, well, tough luck! 

But playing just by myself is just not enough sometimes. So I am really glad to have found a friend who plays the piano. About the same level that I play the flute, luckily, so we can take it just as it is supposed to be: Make some music and have fun! We just checked a little what we have last night, as in sheet music that is, but mainly came to the conclusion that we will need to find some more things. Easy things. Things that have a piano and a flute (or another solo instrument). Because I have a bit of flute music, without the piano part, and she has her piano music, but no solo part for flute. So we have agreed that I will just write out the solo part of The Entertainer for now, that should work, and else we are now officially on the hunt for nice little things on the internet. Coming up to Christmas I am quite sure that there is quite a bit to be found in that line of music. Oh, and I am sure there is a music library in this city, I mean, this is London after all, so I hope to go there and browse their catalogue a bit, see what treasures I come across.  But I am more than happy about any hints and suggestions!

Ah, so glad to be finally making some music again! There is just nothing like it...

The 10 Things to Do before You Die Question

I don't know how, but somehow we got talking about these "Things  you have to do before you die" lists yesterday. And that got me thinking. I mean really thinking. I know, when I was eight or nine I made a list of things I wanted to do in my lifetime. I just can't remember much of what was on there. One thing I do remember, and that's still outstanding: Go see a real live baseball game, I mean a serious one, so it's gotta be in the States or at least involve two evenly matched teams, and not the Dragons versus the Baystars, where Nagoya kept hitting homeruns while the Baystars had no clue what to do. That didn't count, cause it was just plain boring. But then, maybe I find that watching the Red Sox or so would be just as boring, who knows? I still intend to find out some day...

But what else was on that list? I think I basically have done the rest already. Go to Japan. Live abroad. See Tokyo (only to discover that I love Osaka so much more). Travel around Ireland (ok, I could argue there's still plenty more ground to cover there if I wanted to). 

I still have a few things left that I want to see or do. Like travel in India. See Angkor Wat. See those heads on Easter Island. But mainly, well, it almost seems I am running out of dreams, cause most of the time I just go and do it. Some things didn't turn out the way I thought they would, but I also have no problem just changing plans, or my mind, or whatever needs changing at the moment. 

That should make me feel proud, right? I do what I want, live my dream... but somehow, the idea of running out of dreams is scaring me. I mean, I will never really run out of dreams, there will always be something left, something I will want to see or do or experience. And one of my dreams at least involves a very long time, i.e. find a partner to build a life with, and that is not done in a trip or two.  But they are getting less and less, and I find it increasingly difficult to come up with even a handful of things I still really want to do before I die, you know, with all that emotional vigour behind the dream.

However, I actually miss all those dreams that I used to have, all the hopefulness and the images that I had of places or things, before reality came rushing in when I actually went and did it. Suddenly I had no more options to embellish it with whatever I wanted, since now I knew what it was like.  And had no more room for imagination left.

I like imagining things, I like creating pictures in my head of what a place could be like, or how a situation could enfold. Which is maybe why I love reading, because I am free, or at least freer than with watching a film, to picture the scene in my way, with my colours, my faces, my decoration...

I feel sad when I think of people that don't have dreams. That just do what they are told, not because they want it but because they can't come up with things for themselves. And even worse: People who don't read and can't enjoy the imaginary world of a book. I don't care what you read, for Heaven's sake, read friggin' Dan Brown if that tickles your fancy, but not to be able to build these worlds in your head, create faces and scenes and pictures in your mind without TV having to dot every last bit down for you, that is just the saddest thing I can think of in life.

So, as for me, I find it difficult to still come up with 10 things to do. That could be either a good thing or a bad thing, and I guess for me it depends on my mood that day to decide which way I want to see it... I just hope that everyone will someday manage to have their own dreams. What else is there to drive you on in life if not a dream? So, it really doesn't matter what you put on that list, and even if it's only one thing. As long as you have something to dream about!        

The Eternal Roller Coaster

And here I thought in my 30s I would've learned how to deal with my emotions. And then I end up having days that start out fine, but suddenly take this deep dip down into the abyss, where all I want is a reason to sit down and cry. Granted, mostly this is related to PMS, or rather DMS (as in during), since my moodiness usually occurs at the same time as my period, you know, where you want everyone else to suffer just as much as you do, make them bleed, too, if only you could. And then sit down the next minute and cry about it. 
But the occasional bad day creeps in at other times as well, where everything just seems to be too much, eats away all my energy, and I just want to cry it all out. Those days I end up watching some chick flick with a sad story, or read an emotional book, and even if it's not terribly well written I will cry anyway, as I can suddenly empathise with the characters, where otherwise I'd be annoyed by the mediocre depictions. Funnily enough, many books I can only read in that particular mood, under normal circumstances chances are the book would go flying.

So let's say this roller coaster is hormonal, which I sort of understand. What happens then on these other days, which are apparently unrelated to the cycle? Why do I still have those, when I was supposed to be over these mood swings with my teenage years? 
Well, whatever the reason may be, what I do know for sure is that I am not the only one. I know some other women who have the occasional cry-in. Some even do the bitch attack without prior warning, and without PMS. I only do that when someone tries to talk to me in the morning, and expects an answer. 
So yes, even in my 30s I am still on the roller coaster. And I suspect that, despite what society tells you about growing up and acting like an adult, I will continue to be like this until I'm an old lady. You know, one of those grumpy old women that are allowed to say anything, preferably some nice backhanded comment like Maggie Smith's character in Downton Abbey. Now THAT's something to aspire to! But I really could do without these down-and-out days with the sad hormones and go right on to the bitch-slapping. So much more fun! 
I just wonder, is there a reason that they never told us that we won't get rid of these emotional ups and downs? Had they told us as kids, would we not have had enough respect for adults, perhaps, since they are just as irrational as a teenager, even if they are better at pretending they are not? Come to think of it, are we as adults really better at pretending? Or just forced to at least try and pretend? If so, I guess I am just not really good at being an adult. And I'm not sure if that is actually a bad thing...

Thoughts on Job Hunting...

So, it's been a while since I thought of writing something for the blog. But job hunting has pretty much taken over my life these days. Well, not completely, I do manage to escape on occasion, and mostly that occasion is my man. But otherwise, well, wake up, switch on the computer, snuggle up with a cuppa tea and search for jobs online. I am still convinced that I will find a job soon, after all, I am sure I would be an asset with my experience, and I am certainly extremely adaptable, plus I love learning, so whatever comes along, I can learn to do it. Unfortunately, how do you get those HR people to realise that from the bit of information you send their way? I was sure it's all there, and they should see it. But apparently my way of self-advertising is not yet using the right keywords. I find myself at a loss there, though, cause what is it they want to hear? I've been applying for jobs that I am more than qualified and experienced to do, granted, some of them were quite a bit down the ladder again, so I can see how they might think I'd be jumping ship first opportunity I got. Maybe I should just say that all I want is a job that pays the bills and leaves me enough time to get home and write? But then I am not showing enough enthusiasm for the role again, aren't I? However you turn it, something always is wrong...

Well, what can I do? I will go on looking, and so far I am still convinced that my next job is just around the corner! Starting job-hunting in summer, and the Olympic summer at that, was certainly not the brightest idea. So, employers, here I am! Take me! Because, despite my sometimes a bit stubborn views of what is best I really want to work, and I really want to work as well as I possibly can, and learn and expand my knowledge. Take me!!   

Ex News...

 

Well, this got me thinking... I just heard that one of my exes got married. It doesn't surprise me, I kind of figured he might sell out. See, it was an arranged marriage, and since he was clearly unable to form and maintain a relationship on his own I sort of guessed that this would be an easy way out for him, even when we were together, and sooner or later he would just let it happen. His family put pressure on him all the time to find a nice Indian girl, and it was just a matter of time until he would give in, after all he was not the type who would stand up for me and make it happen that we would stay together. So, it's not actually a real surprise. 

But it is, though. It's one of those things, where marriage suddenly takes on a whole different meaning. Where marriage is the goal, and he has achieved it. I don't even believe in marriage, but hearing this rings this tiny little bell somewhere in my unconscious mind that says this is what you have to do in life, "'cause we say so". It's not even that kind of marriage, you know, marriage for love, this whole thing was just arranged. Plus, it's probably not even going to be a very happy one, which kind of makes me sad to think, particularly for her... He was so caught up in his own personal problems, that he indulged a lot in his little fantasies, to the extent that he seemed to live for them, but then when it came to performance, well, let's just say, his fantasy world did not have much to do with the real world. It was a sexually frustrating relationship for me, and I assume that she is not going to fare that much better. I kind of hope, for her sake, that he has changed, but I seriously doubt that. 

So all in all, it's not like he has won... you know, how you sometimes have the feeling you need to be the first after you break up to get another partner, just to win over the other person, to prove that you are over them. I met him again after we broke up, and had nothing to say to him, it was all over, and I had no interest in pursuing any sort of relationship with him. It IS over. And I really don't want him back. I am actually the one who has a lovely man in my life right now, the beginning phase where everything is exciting and new, and everything is still open to possibility. I am happy with him, and curious to see what will become of us in the future. I am not looking for anyone else, I am happy right where I am. But still, hearing this news, it somehow brought me down. A bit. Not enough to depress me, but it does leave a strange taste in my mouth, the taste of failure, even if I know that I haven't failed. I just don't understand why... Maybe tomorrow will give me an answer?

 

A Night Person in the Morning

I am not a morning person. Never have been, never will. It's genetic, my whole family is a grumpy lot before their first coffee. I mean, I am seriously dangerous in the morning, when I am not really awake yet, and someone tries and asks me a question, and then even worse, expects an answer. I have been known to scare my boss into leaving the subject and gently approaching me again two hours later on the topic with just one mean look. It's the I breathe fire and have no qualms about burning you into a smoking little pile of ash if you don't leave me alone kind of look. And I mean it! 

So, not a morning person. My brain doesn't really work, and all I want is to sleep, and having to force myself into reading something, listening to someone and following their line of argument, and worse, having to decide what I want to do or eat later when I can't even manage to think about the next minute, that is hell for me. I just wasn't built for this time of the day. I am rather the kind of person who can stay up late into the night, watch the sun come up again, and get a lot of things done until then. Morning is when you sleep!

And then I go out and start dating a morning person. Which as such is not a first, I have dated other guys that woke and got up at 6 in the morning just for the fun of it, which I just cannot understand in the least. That kind of behaviour is simply so alien to me, they might have come from a different planet. For all I know they did...

Usually that just means they learn to do their own thing in the morning, and when we get to a more decent time, you know, one that has two digits in the front, I'd crawl out of bed, get a coffee, and join them. This guy, however, actually got me to wake up with him, and not even notice that it was so early. I'm still not a great talker before I get a few teas down, since at the moment I seem to be neglecting my coffee addiction for a serious tea drinking habit. But for example during 4 days that my boyfriend took me out camping he somehow managed to have me up in functioning mode and out on the road by 9am. Which in itself is a miracle. But it gets worse. I now sit here, at 7am, as in early in the morning, having woken up way earlier and already on the second cup of tea, and am writing! I mean, what is this? He isn't even here, I was at home all by myself. So it's not like he was here slowly waking me up by getting fidgety or something. It was all my own doing! 

This is just so wrong. I feel like someone has stolen my personality and replaced it with one from the breakfast show. I might still not be chirpy, but this waking up and having a working brain frightens me. I'm not used to this! I want my lazy mornings back, where I could enjoy the heavy feeling of sleep in my warm bed, slowly letting some thoughts sift through the fog until I am ready for the day. This waking up and suddenly having the urge to get tea and write is just unnatural. I am not equipped for dealing with coherent thought at this hour! Well, let's see, with a bit of training I might actually get my own personality back... 

TV Made in Britain

So, I don't like TV. Most of the programmes are boring at best, and plainly annoying otherwise. So I gave up looking for the few gems in the big heap of crap, and just don't watch TV. Which is fine, since I can watch whatever I am interested in on DVD or on the internet. However, in order to find it I need to know what I'm looking for. 

Growing up in Germany, most of what you come across is US comedy shows like Friends and dramas like CSI and such stuff. A few Japanese cartoons were there to mark my early years, such as Heidi or Captain Future, or productions like Vicky the Viking or Czech children's programmes like Pan Tau or Lucy the Menace of Street. I found English titles for these programmes, so I suppose they were aired over here in Britain, too. 

The point is, these were things I grew up with, and which formed me and my life. Give me the title song (well, the one they played in Germany) of Captain Future, or anyone else about my age, and we all sit right back there on the sofa or on the floor in front of the TV set, possibly still black and white, definitely one with an antenna sticking out, eagerly awaiting the adventures the crew would meet with that day. We can still sing the theme song to Maya the Bee. In fact, my Japanese friends can sing that too, just that we grew up with different versions... We spent hours enjoying Colt Seavers beat up the bad guys or speculating over who killed Laura Palmer a bit later. We bonded over these shows, and still refer to them now and then, or use them in jokes. 

Among the shows I grew up with there were hardly any British ones. One that was popular in Germany, as apparently the dubbed version improved the show quite a bit, was The Persuaders, simply translated to Die Zwei, i.e. the two. Rumour has it that Dr. Who was aired as well, although I never came across it until I went to university. So really, the only British programmes I watched while growing up were The Professionals, Faulty Towers and reruns of The Avengers.  And I caught up later at uni with Red Dwarf, love it, adore it, no other spaceship will ever even come near it. And yes, I did watch a few Mr. Bean and Black Adder shows, but no, I just can't get into it, not my sense of humour, too far over the line to slapstick.

So, now I live here, and I notice every now and then what I have missed. It's mostly about cultural references, like when my ex-boss-boss referred to some colleagues as Thunderbird one and two... Something I intend to work on, even if I will never completely catch up.

I just wonder, why is it that it was almost exclusively American programmes that became so popular? Now that I live here I have had a chance to get a few interesting recommendations on what to watch, plus I had already fallen in love with British films quite some time ago, the dark humour in things like Shallow Grave just top anything Hollywood could ever produce. And is there any need to mention Monty Python? So why were British series hardly ever on the menu? Just because they don't have all those fancy special effects? I mean, I agree, they don't look as flashy and glitzy, but absolutely make up for it with wit and brains. Or failing the latter at least beautiful black humour. 

Well, now the problem is, what have I missed? Which shows are essential? I have watched a few Only Fools and Horses, bought the complete Vicar of Dibley, worked my way through Being Human before the Americans made this terrible remake of it, and adore the Mighty Boosh with their weirdo stories and songs... And right now I sit here snickering over the bad cop attitude of DCI Gene Hunt in Life on Mars and admire the wonderful wallpaper and brown-beige themed wardrobe of the 70s flashback. So I'm working on it! And am grateful for any further recommendation, darlings!  

        

Of Books and Covers and Other Things That Annoy Me

How we all love our categories... he is gay, she is black, they are American. And at once we have an image and the expectation for all of them to behave in a certain way. I guess to some extend this is just human, the way we make sense of the world is to order what we experience according to what we have learned before about similar things. Four legs, a tail, and it barks, must be a dog, even if it looks like a little bat, most people would say when coming across a Chihuahua for the first time. 

So yes, categories are our daily bread. But I still try to avoid categorising everything around me, especially when it comes to people and their behaviour. I mean, there are all colours under the rainbow, with so many different tastes and preferences. So I have come across a black girl who didn't like Beyonce, and a Japanese woman who hated shopping, and a gay guy who is messy as messy can be. One label doesn't mean the stereotype fits them all.

Since I try to look at each person as an individual and make as few assumptions as I possibly can, and failing on occasion, I expect the same in return. So I do get annoyed when I have people putting me in certain categories because of my nationality or job or sexuality. And have started avoiding answering these questions with a straight answer.

Just the other day I ended up with a few friends in the aftermath of Pride in a pub off Old Compton Street. We got talking to this Irish guy who immediately started asking where we were from. One girl being American he wanted her to say something, expecting to hear something like a Texan drawl, and was so disappointed when she, being from San Francisco, sounded almost like he himself. 

Me being German triggered his praise on how I must be so focussed and strong-willed, since that's how we are, we Germans, right? And he had a hard time dealing with my answer to his question whether I was gay, when I said that right now I didn't have any love interest, so I simply was nothing right now, and what comes next, well, let's see. He needed a clear answer, or at least a bi. Which I wouldn't give him. Granted, so far I have been attracted to men, but who is to say that I don't meet a wonderful woman one day and fall in love with her? I mean, among the guys I have been with up until now only one was actually my type in looks, the others I fell in love with for their personality, despite the outward package differing from my idea of what is beautiful.

Never judge a book by its cover, isn't that what they say? At least give the blurb a quick look-over before you put it back on the shelve. I know, there is not always time for this, so we have to go for the quick decision sometimes. All I'm saying is that some of my best friends who have been with me for decades were those who I didn't like at first. Or who  pigeonholed me into a certain image when we first met and were surprised to find out how much more there was besides and beyond their quick judgement. 

Well, all any of us really can do is just be ourselves, I suppose, and not pretend to be something we are not, it will all just come back to bite you where it's uncomfortable. And to keep an open mind. So here's hoping I meet those people who look beyond their set of ideas and leave room for the concept of a German who has no interest in returning to that country, who hates sausages but loves beer, and who has some other quirks that will not fit the category. I promise I will continue looking out for whatever is behind their exterior as well...      

Somewhere to Belong...

Moving around between continents to explore, being restless, feeling caged in when too much routine sets in, feeling too young to get stuck in a place yet, well, those are just a few things I could say about the reasons why I find it so difficult to settle on one location to live and, well, settle down. Another is that I have always been looking for somewhere to belong. Even back when I was little. I have always felt like an outsider, like I was that little green alien coming for a visit. 

In first grade I had figured out how to read within two weeks and allegedly had decided I was done with school, since that was what I had come here for. Pity there were another 13 years to go through with... 

In second grade we moved to another city, and I was the only one listening to pop music in my class, while everyone else was still talking about kid's audio plays. So I found a few friends, but I was always a step away, be it too far or behind, the mainstream. And proud of it, I might add, since it made me feel unique.

But I suppose, uniqueness comes at a price. One I was more than willing to pay, since mainstream was annoying me like hell, in the way where I would actually feel nauseous when I saw the other girls prancing around with their pink heart accessories, or giggle about stuff that makes any sane person's head hurt. Ok, call me snobbish, so what? I have taste! Even if it's not shared by everyone else... Which means, yes, I can hold my head up high and stand by my taste in music or literature etc, but makes not much for popularity, especially when the hits of the moment are prominent on my worst-music-ever list... 

Well, but the choice to stand apart kind of developed the compulsion to first question anything that was popular before looking at it for its own merit. By now I have learned to accept some things, even if popular, and even if they are possibly not the highest rating artistic works on earth. Thus, yes, I admit, I read all the Harry Potter Books, and though nothing outstandingly original from a literary point of view was to be found, I really did enjoy reading them. To give just one example...

But other things remain. So I find myself quite often trying hard to appear as a local, even if on holiday, because I don't want to be mistaken for one of those brainless tourists running off the list of must-sees in their Lonely Planet rather than having a real look around, deciding what they themselves might be interested in and God forbid learn something about another culture. And for the longest time I did not want to be obviously taken for a German, even if I don't want to give up that passport ever, since it's too comfy to travel on this one. But being taken for a German would usually come with all those stereotypes which I try my best to defy. And then I find myself being annoyed myself when someone promises to come out for a drink with me and then cancels last minute... 

Nonetheless, the concept of being different has always and still does appeal to me. Different, other, special... And even though I don't feel special, I suppose I have managed to achieve that, in a way, since people tend to tell me more often than not that they wouldn't be able to lead my life while admiring my life choices. That's what they say at least. But this is not a discussion about how honest other people express their  opinions. It's about having chosen to stand by my own ideals, by opposing conformity, and the consequences. Because, as much as I appreciate how people admire that I am able to just pack up and leave and go somewhere completely different, it comes at a price. 

Having moved between places, between lifestyles, between societies, I find it difficult to deal with routine. I have never had to settle, since I always knew that if I got annoyed I could just pack up and leave. Which is what I did. But keeping your head down and just going through with it is something I have not yet learned. Well, other than the various exams that I had to study for and things like that where the end was in sight. But on a larger scale, where you have no clue how long it may last and where it may lead, how do you deal with that? Especially since I am so bad with dealing with uncertainty? I know, I know, that sounds kind of absurd when at the same time I have no problem with just packing my things and going off to live in Japan or something like that. But the thing is, that by packing up I took the decision myself, I knew where I was going even if I had to start again, and what basics I had to settle first. But not knowing if there will ever be a change in the job you do and still go through with it day by day, when every step closer to the office makes your stomach clench that much further, that is something I am not prepared for.  And even though I still believe that if you hate your job that much you simply have to quit, come what may, there is an element of settling down and just accepting good and bad with that decision that I am as yet unsure about. 

Settling down... essentially I AM planning on settling down, but I have been looking for a place where I feel like I belong. A feeling which is largely defined, in my opinion, by the people that surround me. So I am looking for the place where I feel at home with the people around me, where I have good friends, where I will find love, where I want to stay. Well, the problem with that is that I have made a few good friends, just that they are spread out all across the world. Each of them I love for their own personality, each of them I miss, each of them has enriched my life in their own special way. But how do I decide which ones I want to live close to?

But that is the thing, right? It's a decision. And I have to take this decision, at some point. Somehow, it turns out, I had always assumed that these things just fall into place and settle themselves without my doing much about it. But these days I realise that belonging is not just a matter of coincidence, a matter of your surroundings coming to you take you in, but that it's largely a matter of deciding that this is where I belong, and building my world on that basis. Of making a choice and sticking with it. Once I have decided that, everything else will follow. 

Well, sounds good, doesn't it? Just decide and there you go. And knowing that it is simply a matter of myself deciding does help, now at least it is in my own control. A place to belong... If only I knew what that means! How does it feel to belong? How do I know that I have achieved it? And even more importantly, how do I, who hates limiting my possibilities, rule out all other places for the sake of just one single spot on earth where I want to settle? Live and learn, I say, live and learn... and see what the next turn in life has to say about that!     

     

The Sea of Shiny Trees

A sunny spell among the English summer weather (in case you didn't know, that is the nice way of saying it's pissing down each and every day in London) brought me out to do a bit of grocery shopping. Passing a bits and bobs shop in the shopping center at the end of my street a tree gleamed at me. Literally. At about a meter and a half its leaves and flowers were made of electric lights, all transparent white, and if I knew anything about such things I could probably say something about it being LED technology and stuff, but since I have no clue what that means I just leave it at that. And immediately it sends me back to warmer parts of the world.

This is the first time I've seen this kind of tree out here in London. The first time ever that I did see such a tree was in Kuala Lumpur. Near where I was staying some furniture shop had a few out in the front, and they immediately fascinated me with their pink and orange lights. Seriously, what is there not to love? Shiny things! Really really shiny things, glowing in the dark, in a variety of colours. But the best thing was when my friend introduced me to I-City out in Shah Alam. What did they call it? A "lightscape tourism destination". Love this fancy speak... which is to say it's a forest made of these LED trees. And LED flamingos. And LED geese. And deer. And peacocks. But most of all trees. Cherry trees, orange trees, pine trees, and all sorts of indescribable colourful flowers and what-not trees. It looks amazing. You (which means I) walk around at a foot a minute because you take pictures of each and every flower you see, that's how amazing the whole place looks, at first sight, well, and at second and third. I have not yet gotten to the point where I don't find these trees incredibly fascinating and beautiful, in the strange way that artificial things sometimes are. And where I don't pull out the camera on a reflex and start taking pictures like mad. Especially when you are standing in front of hundreds of them...

This one tree today in the shop was safe though. Mainly because I had forgotten my camera at home. But it was interesting to see how an item such as this triggers all those memories of Malaysia, of sitting in the car with my friend and driving past those three or four trees in front of that furniture shop on the way to some nightmarket where wonderful food was waiting for us. Or when we went out to Shah Alam to that shiny tree park, and how we spent hours walking among those trees with hundreds of other people, amazed at the sight, incredulous at the cheap crappy light-up toys they tried to sell on top of that, shooting picture after picture and falling in love with whoever it was who came up with the idea of building this park. 

If I win the lottery I want to have a whole garden like this. Well, next to the one with real plants that is. But first, I suppose, I will have to start buying lottery tickets, right? Electric garden, wait for me!     

Why do birds sing?

Well, I can't speak for birds, but there are certain moments where I feel like singing. I mean, yes, I also like karaoke, the Japanese box style thingy, not the open bar thing, just to be clear on that point. But give me a stretch of open road or better yet, a path through forest or park, and a bicycle, the wind blowing in my face, and I can't stop myself. I have to sing. Whatever comes to mind. All-time favourites are Oh Happy Day, Your Song, Paper Bag or Opportunity, and in light of current events, Three Lions. Even if the poor guys lost the game last night. 

The same works for thunder storms with lightning flashing and thunder crashing in the skies above. Or just standing outside at the rail on deck of a ship... well, anything with wind blowing and the force of nature pushing me. What is it that makes me sing, I wonder? It can't just be the rush of speed on a bicycle, since standing on a balcony with a thunder storm above will do the trick, too. 

Whatever it is, it is a lot of fun. Well, for me. I may not be the worst singer on earth, I know that for a fact, I have met him. But I am also not the best, far from it. I hit the notes, usually. I still try not to be too loud with people around, too embarrassing for me, and possibly painful for them. Still, given a bit of solitude and some wind, and there I go again. Well, at least it's just singing and not screaming... that would be much more disturbing, now, wouldn't it?    

Here and there... and everywhere

Does anyone remember that sketch from Sesame Street, where two of those characters - I have no recollection which ones they were but anyway - talk about being HERE and THERE. One keeps asking where she is (I think it was a she...) and the other keeps telling her that she is over THERE while he is over HERE. She desperately wants to be HERE too, so she keeps moving over to where the other stood, while the other moves to her previous location, and is frustrated to find out that she is still over THERE and not HERE. I don't remember how they finally solve the problem, but right now I feel so much like that little one desperate to finally arrive in the HERE, instead of always being THERE. Or rather, in my case I keep wishing I was THERE instead of HERE. 

I know HERE, well, most of it, and the bits I haven't explored only become apparent with a bit of distance. I keep dreaming of things to come, things I want to do in my life, with my life, places I want to see, people I want to spend time with, things I want to learn or experience... Don't get me wrong, I think this is a good thing, dreaming is one of the most important things, in my book, for each and every person: Once you lose your dreams you lose everything, your motivation, your energy, maybe even your reason for being here in the first place. I can't imagine a life without dreams, for me that is like living death, nothing to aspire to, nothing to work towards, nothing will ever change, constant sameness and no way out. Heck, I believe even lab rats have dreams, why else would they launch at every opportunity they get to escape? I feel sorry for anyone who just resigns themselves to whatever they have been dealt in life. I mean, yes, there will always be things you have to do in order to have the life you lead, sacrifices to be made, barriers you have to overcome, but you should have a reason why you do this. If you hate your job, but you do it because you need the money for your dream, well, go on a bit longer until you have achieved your dream. If you don't have a reason to do a job you hate, quit it! At least that's my way of going about things. And I often feel impatient with people who keep complaining about their lives but don't do anything about it.
Still, how do I get to a point where I am content with one place? At least enough to live there and go to other places to visit? Why is it that I am most interested in seeing what it is like to live somewhere? Just visiting means you stay a visitor, an outsider, just a quick look and you are gone again. I don't want that... but what solution is there? If I was real rich I could just build a couple of homes in different countries and go live wherever I feel like at that moment... lacking those kinds of funds, what to do? I keep telling them I need a Scottie, you know, a machine (or Scottie who operates that machine) that gets me all over the world in a second. Then nothing would matter, I could just decide to have tea with my friend down in Sydney, or try out that new Okonomiyaki place in Osaka I heard of, or come over for dinner at my friend's in Germany... pending that, I guess I will at some point have to settle for one place... I just don't know how to make that decision yet! And the alternative, keep on moving from one place to the next, clashes with my longing for one place, one home, where I can have my stuff around me, my bed, my books, my music... Komatta ne!!! So I just keep waiting for some realisation that finally tells me I am home. And I'm still waiting...

    

Education programme of another kind

The other day I went to Amemura here in Osaka, to meet a friend who was looking for some clothes for her 11 year old son. And in one of those shops I fell in love with a spudmonster t-shirt. No, not the band, the Ghostbusters thingy. You know, the green thing that flies around and eats any food that comes within reach... and slimes on people whenever the fancy takes it... Anyway, having bought the t-shirt and getting home again I was shocked to realise that the kids had no idea what that green thing was! I mean, seriously Ghostbusters! It's basic education! Especially when you are a nine year old boy! The parents knew of it, but never bothered to show him the movie. 

So, first on the agenda was to teach him the Ghostbusters song, which he has almost managed, well, the refrain at least... and with the video came some of the marshmallow man images, and curiosity was at full blast... 

So, the next step was to scout all the Book Off places in the area to find the DVD second hand. And in Kyoto I was lucky, finally, and brought it home. The nine-year-old loved it, of course, I mean, why wouldn't he? Monsters, jokes, action and a lot of slime in between... The five-year-old girl had some more reservations... nothing really cute about it, plus the monsters, so she would just cry out "kowai kowai" (scary scary) most of the time and hide in someones armpit, whoever happened to be nearest. The little two-year-old watched fascinated, some kowai comments in between, but mostly he just pointed at whatever he thought looked exciting...

Well, now they know. And another part of my job is done! Yoisho.