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?