iminberlin

the end

Tue, 30 Sep 2008 22:40:03 GMT

I've been in the States for 9 days now.

Berlin seems like little more than a dream to me. A faraway memory that I rarely return to. It's sometimes a boon to have a memory so poor. The last few days were nice. I went to the Television Tower with Evi, Simon and Lara. It was great. We had some soda and cake and looked out the window to the city below.

So what's in store for me now? I've got a lot to think on. I've returned to my "normal" life again, and I've got to make some decisions regarding my family, my future, and my immediate present.

...and I guess that's all I have left to say.
The End.

i suppose i seem like the type

Sat, 20 Sep 2008 01:01:48 GMT

To drink alone, that is.

I'm an anti-social misfit hell-bent on insisting that I'm different and thus don't care for social norms.

I don't really care for touching, and if you ever catch me doing so, I'm most likely one of two things.

1: I feel bad for the other person and give out freebies when the situation (death, love or life) warrants a hug.
2: I'm extremely drunk.
...ok. So maybe I only have to be slightly tipsy, but there's still alcohol involved in either case.

But I digress. I was re-reading my dublin entry, and realized that it sounds like I drank alone in the pub. There was no mention of the skinny Irishman, his fleshy Southeast Asian Canadian girlfriend, the talkative sportsfiend, the chain-smoking woman...Of course I mentioned the bartender and threw in the big, old man a few entries later, but I find it curious that I didn't mention meeting anyone else during my trip or any other trip.

The smooth-talking Londoner in Hyde Park certainly charmed me, even if his friend (read: wingman) unnerved me with his silence. The crazy myspace stalker (she was seriously a stalker! So much so that I made a conscious effort to not reveal my own myspace link...or real name) who didn't know how to stop raving about her stalkee. The Australian law student who was studying in Dublin for the semester but was temporarily living in a hostel. The sociable Brazillian fashionista who woke me up to invite me out to a pub. And her decidedly, uh, strange (think of a synonym), but perfectly nice sidekick...

I'm tired. And I'm listening to the song "Lullaby" by A Perfect Circle. It's so peaceful, and someone keeps telling me to go back to sleep...by the way, it's three o'clock in the morning and I might have to wake up early tomorrow. i haven't decided yet, but outlook is not favorable.

I still need to pack.

Oh, and ps.
Just in case you were wondering: I sadly don't drink alone (and I don't consider ordering a bottle of beer with my fried noodles drinking alone). I also don't really drink with strangers, either. Which is why I need to get back to California, pronto. I need to get trashed.

the eloquence of a 15-year-old

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 20:52:52 GMT

"And I was like, 'Seriously? You're seriously hitting on me?' And then I, like, looked at the bartender and he, like, shook his head and I started giggling. Cuz we were, like, best buds by the end of the night."

I didn't realize these would be some of the last words that I would ever say to my maybe-crush. I'm not very good at good-byes, and since Wednesday was the last day that he would be in this week, that was the very last time that I would ever see him. And now he knows how much of a valley girl I am.

Ok. So I didn't tell the story exactly like that. But the word "like" was used more often than I am comfortable remembering and I actually did say "Seriously? You're seriously hitting on me?". They just looked at me (my boss and my maybe-crush) and nodded as though it were all very interesting (which it wasn't because I was babbling). Then I started to freak out about the Spice Girls song that started playing over the speaker system. I was nervous, ok? This encounter entirely negates the hours-long intelligent conversation that we had the other day about politics, life and everything in between.

Oh, and you might also be wondering what the story was about. My boss asked how my Dublin trip went, and I told him about how a 60-year-old man (who was easily three times my size, not to mention my age...) started hitting on me. He also caressed my hand. Thankfully the bartender was watching this guy like a hawk. Like I said, "we were, like, best buds by the end of the night." I liked that bartender. He gave me free beer.

Today I came back to my flat in the middle of the workday. I've only done this once before, but my flatmate was out of town at that time, so she was really surprised when I came back this afternoon.

"Oh!!" I heard this as I turned the key and started to open the door. It was one of those "oh!"s that a person learns over time to hesitate when she hears it. It's one of those exclamations that tells you that someone on the other side of the door is naked. Or maybe they're entertaining. And they're naked. Or maybe they're not naked, but they do need to put their pants back on. I don't know, but it's usually an exclamation that tells you that you don't really want to know what's on the other side of the door. I just hoped that I wouldn't catch her naked. So I hesitated.

Then I realized that I like to gossip, and if I saw her naked, then at least I would have something to write home about. So I turned the knob and opened the door. And standing there with a surprised look was the palest face I have ever seen. It was an Asian girl. At first I was really confused, then I turned my head and saw my window open. I never leave my window open.

Which means that my flatmate was showing someone the room that I'll soon be vacating. Which explained the pale face (she was wearing a ton of cover-up that was at least two shades too light). To you, this doesn't really explain why my flatmate said "Oh!" in such a manner.

Well, I think she was so surprised because before signing our housing contract, we put in a clause saying that she wouldn't enter my room without asking me beforehand (which she didn't do). It might sound a little paranoid (and I'll admit that it kind-of is), but considering that my door doesn't really close (it gets stuck before closing all the way so it's always open at least a crack...) and before living with her, I haven't exactly had the best luck living with strangers, I think that I'm entitled to a little paranoia here and there.

Oh well. At least I didn't catch her naked.

I also went to the Katy Perry concert the other night. Some stupid girl (who was easily five inches taller than I) stood directly in front of me and moved every time I moved and my personal bubble was nonexistent, but Katy Perry's not bad.

Three more days.

adobe day

Sun, 14 Sep 2008 18:23:58 GMT

I worked all day today. (Mostly for myself rather than for my internship.) I'm pretty sure my flatmate thought I was just sitting in my room all day, looking at the wall. I will admit that while that sounds very stimulating, I was actually having some fun with some Photoshop and Illustrator tutorials that I found online. I'm not yet finished with the first one and the last one also needs some work done. However, for a day's work, I'm pretty satisfied.

life lesson #1

Sun, 14 Sep 2008 00:38:33 GMT

Coffee doesn't work properly.

If taken before noon, it makes me more drowsy.
If taken after noon, it keeps me up all night.

he likes my hair

Sat, 13 Sep 2008 23:10:10 GMT

It's starting to become more and more apparent to me that while you can take the girl out of California, you can't take California out of the girl.

Today I looked briefly out of my window before deciding what to wear. That isn't a smart thing to do, especially if you come from California and don't often leave California. Californians see sun, they think sun. The sun is hot, the sun means shorts. So I wore shorts, flip flops and a thin jacket. It wasn't until I was a block away from my flat that the first gust of wind hit me and made me realize that everyone else was wearing long pants, boots and a thick coat. I suppose I should have realized this when I first walked out of the building, but you've got to realize a couple of things about me. First, that despite going to the west-coast Ivy League that I eventually managed to graduate from, I'm not the brightest in the bunch. And two, I'm lazy. So I kept on walking.

It actually wasn't too bad. The worst (and strangest) part about it was that I was the only person dressed in shorts so I got more than a few looks for my bare legs and open-toed shoes. That's one of the things that's so strange about every other place in the world. It's not sunny all the time. And even if it is sunny, it doesn't mean that it's going to be warm. Ok, I'll admit that even when there is sun in California, there are still winds (sometimes). However, those winds have nothing on the European winds. It makes one of the worst days in California seem like a cool breeze on a nice summer's day. I used to wish for seasons, but now I know not to take my California homogeny for granted.

I took a leisurely stroll down to Alexanderplatz, and after making a few pit stops here and there, I had the usual shopping expedition in that amazing center. I suppose one of the highlights of today was seeing the two beautiful men. I mean, I've never seen such beautiful men in person before. I couldn't help myself and ogled for a little bit...but I suppose I should tell you first that there was a fashion show in the Alexanderplatz and there were two male models and a ridiculous number of female models. The female models didn't phase me, as there are more beautiful women (who aren't models but are striking enough to be one) walking around than there are beautiful men. And most of the good-looking men you see out on the street can either be classified as good-looking or handsome. It's not often that you actually see a beautiful man. (Can you tell that I'm still drooling?) Despite everything else that has happened thus far, and everything else that will happen, this will be the highlight of my weekend.

I also had a real conversation with my maybe-crush. (yay.) Sometimes after talking to someone I'm attracted to, I'm convinced that either one of us (or both of us) is an idiot. But, it was interesting and it wasn't so uncomfortable or awkward. One of the most ironic tidbits I learned was that he's majoring in computer science and music. I laughed out loud when he said this, and I'm pretty sure he thought I was laughing at him. I wasn't, but I didn't tell him that my ex is also majoring in those same subjects. Instead, I lamely tried to recover my cool and asked him why he chose music. Then I remembered that he's in a band. Ah, well, I'll content myself with the fact that he likes my hair.

Only a week left.

hiatus

Thu, 11 Sep 2008 19:55:55 GMT

I suppose I've been on somewhat of a hiatus from my blog.

I mean, really, I'd gotten really tired of listening to myself bewail the tragedies of man (in general) and my life (in particular). There wasn't really anything going on in my life besides trying not to count each day down until my much-awaited return to California and figuring out how to write code in Python and Django.

Of course there were also the little things that took up my day. The occasional jaunt to the bank during my lunch break. The walks to and from work (two blocks from my flat). The sushi restaurant I sometimes wander in to...

Along with those riveting tales that I'm sure you're eager to hear about, I've also had little outings to random artist parties in East Berlin, invitations to meals with talented and interested photographers, artists and musicians, and the odd chocolate-butter croissant from the bakery down the way. However, a girl's still gotta keep her secrets, so these stories are better left to a rainy day sitting in front of a warm fire.

I've also decided that I don't like living with people. In particular, I don't like living with obnoxious women. Last spring there was the annoying engaged girl who would go to sleep after unabashedly talking dirty into the ears of her admiring fiance. Let's not even mention the horror that happened at the beginning of this summer, and I'll fast forward to the annoying know-it-all art historian who I currently live with.

Two weeks ago, I was too adventurous in deciding to travel to the UK and Ireland alone and without any particular plan. It was too dangerous and she disapproved. This week, I don't get out often enough and I spend too much time watching American television on my computer. And she disapproves.

Ok, so I'll admit that some of this has some validity, as she only happens to see me when I'm eating dinner, and would rather watch Grey's Anatomy in the kitchen while I'm eating (and pretend that I'm occupied) rather than talk to my flatmate (if she wanders in) about the wonders of the auto industry, listen to her inappropriate jokes about reporting me in to the Laotian government if I don't pay the rent on time, and sit awkwardly as she holds eye contact a few moments longer than I deem comfortable. (I still think she's a lesbian.)

She also has a (disapproving) opinion on my sleep schedule, my food, and my general day-to-day habits. Kind of like a hawk. Or a mother. It's not even as though I see her too often...only about 10 minutes (maximum) a day, but she always tries to get in an opinion, and it's just...lovely. Just so darn lovely I can barely stand it.

But yes. That's what I've been up to these past few weeks. I've also been:
working on my design portfolio, learning how to effectively use Photoshop, Illustrator, Flash and other Adobe software, learning how to write HTML, XHTML, CSS, Javascript and Python, reading such classics as Dostoyevsky's The Idiot, Joyce's Dubliners, Thackeray's Vanity Fair and Dumas's The Three Musketeers and not so-classic writings such as J.D. Robb's Death series, Lauren Weisberger's (of The Devil Wears Prada fame) Chasing Harry WInston, and trashy gossip from www.thesuperficial.com and www.nyt.com

egg rolls and guinness

Thu, 11 Sep 2008 09:57:54 GMT

i got back from dublin on Monday morning, a wonderfully small and boring city. relatively.

as i was flying in to dublin on friday morning, i saw that it was raining cats and dogs and i thought to myself "i hate rain. i hate dublin. i want out of europe. NOW." unfortunately, i was there until monday morning, and i couldn't really do anything about it. i read in my guide book that the chinese are the biggest ethnic minority in the city. chinese food in dublin if fan-fucking-tastic. i couldn't get enough of the buffet lines and stuffed myself silly with fried rice, orange chicken, and egg rolls. god, those egg rolls...friday passed in a blur, as i kind of wandered through the city center and checked into my hostel. I forced myself to go to Temple Bar, the area of the city known for its crazy pubs and clubs. Unfortunately, all the security guards and crowds standing out in front scared me and i walked casually on by.

as i was starting to realize that everyone travels in groups, and no one else seemed to be alone, i saw a poster for the movie 'the wackness'. my bff's talked so much about it, and i was looking so lame and lost and lonely that i decided to wander in to the theatre. it was a tiny little indie theatre, with a bar and a restaurant...and looked totally european. i was immediately charmed. as for friday, i saw the movie, and then went back to my hostel to sleep.

the rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful. the usual tourist activities...i walked through some museums and malls, bought some pretty baubles and got lost at least twice. however, on sunday night, i finally forced myself to go into a pub. they were playing some authentic irish music, and i decided to tough it out, walk through the large crowd of rowdy irish people standing out in front, and order a beer at the crowded bar. after ordering a pint of heineken, i was about to head out when the bartender gave me another pint of guiness, on the house (as it was my last night in dublin). after i finished that, he slipped me another guiness, this time half a pint, but mixed some raspberry flavoring into it. it was oh-so-delicious, and i went to the bus station not a little drunk.

and that was my weekend in dublin in a nutshell.

ah, well. what can one do?

Tue, 12 Aug 2008 11:50:17 GMT

I've been reading up on the Georgian conflict that recently exploded in all the newspapers after the Russian airstrikes a few days ago.

I suppose I wouldn't have paid it too much mind a few months ago. After all, there seems to be squabbles and such all over the world. I've got to pick and choose my battles, right? What an ignorant little child.

I've mentioned the Peace Corps a time or two since I came back to Berlin. I suppose if you don't know yet, I've applied to serve in the Peace Corps, an American-government sponsored program. I'll be spending two-plus years in another country, living and eating with the natives...soaking it all in. I received my invitation at the beginning of the summer. Although I don't know in what particular country I'll be placed in, I've been invited to the Caucasus region.

On the Peace Corps website, it states that "Georgia still faces the possible loss of two autonomous regions, Abkhazia and South Ossetia, because of ethnic separatists and pro-Russian elements. Volunteers are not placed in these two regions." But as one knows, such conflicts tend to spread and since I'm not set to leave until next summer, this idea is a little worrisome. I was afraid I would only have to deal with mushrooms growing inside my house, bugs biting me all over and rabid little diseases tearing up my immune system.

As my ex likes to tell me, "You're really dramatic." Don't fret, though. Who would I be if I didn't tremble at the scent of danger and then continue to walk foolishly towards it? I know you'd all be a little disappointed if I decided to back out now anyway. It's the path I've chosen, and besides, I've yet to receive the actual nomination so it hasn't set in yet. The destination could change at anytime and I've still got a little less than a year left. Keep an eye out for what's happening in the Caucasus for me, would ya?

male chauvinistic idiots

Mon, 11 Aug 2008 22:57:43 GMT

That idiot at my workplace that I've been complaining about--I believe I tore him to pieces today. He tries to hide his male chauvinism behind a veil of humor and idiocy, false innocence and a fast-talking mouth, but I've had enough of catering to his ineptitude towards social manners. (HA! Sounds like Marker...)

Ok. So I've thought this through, and yes, I know that I have never held a particular fondness towards such remarks, but this guy is just too annoying. He talks about women indiscriminately and tries to get up everyone's skirt. I've always had a particular luck to attract men who will talk about all things involving girls in front of me and to me. Perhaps I should feel so honored as to be let into the men's club, but some of the things that I hear...well, I've pretty much had a consensus with my girlfriends that some of those things should not be let out into the light of day.

Perhaps this is why I'm so disgusted with men.

This guy is not so bad, but I do believe that he does not see me as a fellow human being. It's not that he doesn't respect me. I think that there are different levels for this guy: girls are on one level and guys are on another. He prefers to think of females as this unattainable "other" and he puts us into this box in which he considers himself the hunter and we his prey. I don't think that he understands how respect (towards her achievements) could ever relate to a woman. He thinks of all these strange little traps to try to ensnare us (get our numbers and talk some more, even as we indicate that we hold no interest whatsoever). When he does open his mouth, he thinks that it's cute or witty to say such things as "What's wrong with forcing a kiss?" and "I know what's good for you."

I mean, who says these things to a stranger??

Someone who sincerely wants to get his butt kicked. Some may ask why I'm so pissed off. Isn't it a good thing to be put up on a pedestal? Wouldn't it be delightful to be worshipped from afar? Perhaps this would be a different scenario if I were attracted to this guy.

But please, dear reader. If I am ever attracted to such a boy, slap me. I suppose...though, that what gets so me irate about this whole business is that I was attracted to such a boy...for a very long time. And I suppose a slap wouldn't have done anything to snap me out of it. Even though I gave him hell for it, I hated myself more than I can ever say.

But don't worry. Back to the current situation: I just quietly put my things together, told him I didn't understand his sense of humor and left the room. (If you've seen my workplace, you would understand why I couldn't work there for another 30 minutes. The size of the room is about the size of a double in Wilbur.)

Ah, gee. I really am meeting all types of people during my 90+ days here in Europe.

weekend frolicking

Mon, 11 Aug 2008 18:52:02 GMT

The weekends usually start off really slow for me. I generally tend to sleep in really late on Saturdays, and this past Saturday was certainly no exception.

I wake up to white every morning now. I first blink my eyes a few times, and try to reorient myself. After all, I'm never too sure where I sleep these days. It's so strange to have lived in so many places in such a short time. Only 41 more days until the appointed hour. I suppose I sometimes wish for this, to live so dramatically and to be constantly on the move.

After waking up and wandering around this flat for a few hours in a dream-like state, I resolved to get out and get some air. Although I really wanted to stay inside and read my books and watch my anime, the day was so beautiful and bright that I knew I couldn't pass it up. The weather in Berlin is so strange: one day it'll be bright and sunny, and another, it will be gloomy and raining cats and dogs. As was the case this weekend.

Saturday was so beautiful, and I knew that at 4 in the afternoon, I wouldn't get too far on foot before all the shops started closing up for the weekend. So I dressed really casually and ended up walking around the neighborhood for a bit (it's actually a very large neighborhood, around the size of a small city, actually). It was a windy afternoon and there were many natives and tourists milling about. I wandered into a bookstore and somehow wandered out with 40€ worth of books.

Ah, books. What a pleasure. Sometimes I go to a nearby cafe and sit down with a nice hot tasse kaffee, with the intention to read. Sometimes, I actually get the chance to read, but other times, I just sit there and watch as people walk by. I suppose that's the great thing about living here: that so many different ilks of people walk the same streets and all I have to do is sit and enjoy. That is also what's so great about about this "vacation". I've learned so much, but not only from the environment. I believe I may have mentioned this before, but I'll say it again. I read more here than I do back in the States. Perhaps it's because Germany has opened my eyes and my mind to all the possibilities out there. It sounds like my religion.

Sunday was a little better and not as lazy. It was a cloudy day, but I decided to head over to the Mauer Park (Wall Park), where the largest flea market in town is located. However, I also know that in order to get anything at a flea market, I couldn't just charge everything to a card. I only had about 0,07€ on my person, and I'm not that good of a haggler. However, I did learn one of the secrets to haggling this weekend: you can't want it too much, otherwise, the seller will swindle you.

After wandering around Prenz'lberg for about an hour, trying to find a particular bank on foot, it started raining. I also accidentally walked into a gay adult store (to my chagrin) when I hoped for a repeat of the previous afternoon. However, after a good laugh to myself, I continued on my way. Even though it was raining, the flea market was still packed. Many people were leaving, but just as many people were beginning to arrive. It was about 3 in the afternoon at this point. I looked at a book bag for about 5 minutes, and when one of the salesmen wandered over, I asked him in a timid voice "How much does this cost?" He answered that it cost 19€. I nodded and backed away, and he immediately shouted back to me, "14€!" I mentally patted myself on the back, looked at it closer, and then told him "Maybe...I want to come with." I had actually meant to say, "Maybe I will be back." I think he understood what I meant.

I wandered around a little more, then made my way back to the flat. The entire distance back, I dreamt about a warm bath. It would be accompanied by some soft music in the background and one of my purchases (from the previous day) in my hands. A few scoops of ice cream would make the picture complete.

I fell asleep at eight in the evening after finishing my first book. It was truly an idyllic weekend.

ah, berlin

Fri, 08 Aug 2008 01:07:34 GMT

I know I looked good today. We were having a company bbq in the evening, and all were invited, even the guy who I have a maybe-crush on. Hence, the knowledge that I looked good today. It wasn't good in a trashy sort-of way, though. My sister can tell you that I can do slutty really well. At least, slutty in the gangstah-real way, but I wasn't that today.

I was good in a sophisticated, cool kind of way. My hair wasn't crazy, and my clothes actually showed curves in all the right places (you see, my "curves" are usually really subtle. So subtle that my curvy sister tells me that I could pass for a 12-year-old boy... O_o). So perhaps I was just, you know...dressing for work, and maybe not so much dressing to catch the attention of a certain guy who only comes in to work once a week...

Ach! The office was filled to capacity. Because everyone was invited, everyone was there. There's an office idiot in the pack, and he gets on my nerves so much. He's immature in a childish manner and it frankly surprises me that he's a real archetype for the desperate, girl-crazy, immature teenage boy. I mean, you would expect this from a certain high percentage of the male population, but there are two problems with this guy. One, most guys can (to a certain degree) hide their idiocy, but this guy is so inept that you have to force yourself not to run into the kitchen, pick up a pot and slam it repeatedly into his head.

...please, no one cite that last sentence if he is ever found with his head bashed in...

The second thing that's wrong with this guy is that he's at least 22, if not older. He's American, but he's got so many responsibilities, including navigating the VISA application to stay in the country, trying to find renters for the flats in his parents' European house, and being away from same parents. One would think that a guy with all this under his belt would at least be able to keep up an intelligent, meaningful conversation. O_o I'd better stop talking about his character if I don't want to go to hell. After all, he is a nice guy.

Anyway, he also came into the office early today and after a few hours in his company, I told my boss I needed some fresh air. He agreed.

Although the workday was almost over, I had yet to take my lunch break so I headed out and bought some ice cream. Yeah, it didn't really fill me but I took a nice stroll around the neighborhood. I came back, met a German artist woman who the village idiot started hitting on, and then kind-of helped out/got-in-the-way-of-preparations for the bbq.

Unfortunately, my maybe-crush left early so my oh-so-cool look was for naught. He didn't stay for the bbq but perhaps that is for the best. I'm really not articulate, especially if it's in large groups. I also think I sound like a village idiot when conversing with a stranger or if I'm nervous. Which I usually am when talking to someone I like. :\

The food was delicious; I probably ate more than I could handle, but at least I'm not going to bed hungry tonight. Hmm. Brot and Bockwurst and pineapples. Delicious. Afterwards, at around 21:30, I left the party and gradually made my way back to my current flat. On the way back, though, I passed a cafe where I heard someone singing. I stopped and turned my head.

Inside this tiny little cafe was a guy singing and playing his guitar. I inched closer and stood outside for a few moments, pretending that I was reading the menu taped outside instead of trying to gauge if this guy was any good or not. He was good. He was really good, so I went inside and ordered myself an Orangina and sat down. He reminds me of the Red Stone Tea Forest. Not in their sound, for this guy is a guy and not a girl (the lead in the RSTF is female), but in their genres. He started singing John Denver's Take Me Home Country Roads, and I really did want to go back to the place where I belonged. I really wanted the roads to take me home, for it brought back so many memories of just sitting around a dorm room listening to Fish sing. Then he sang something that I remember one of the MoonTunes performers sang, and it was a nice nostalgic moment.

It took a couple of minutes but I realized that he was singing with an American accent. I tried to place the region, and figured that it was the west coast. Although he didn't seem to speak German with the usual amateur, boorish American accent, and actually seemed to speak it quite fluently, I could tell that he was American. Sometimes it's really hard to tell the difference between a native speaker and a foreigner, but in this instance, it was in the way he pronounced the contractions and his "and". People tell me that Californians have an accent and that it's really apparent in our A's, especially when we say "and". I really can't tell you the difference between my "and" and an "and" from Seattle, but I've been told this by more than one person, so what do I know anyway?

Anyway, afterwards, when I went up to pay, I passed by him putting away his guitar and complimented his playing. We got to talking, then a couple came up to give him more praise. I turned, paid for the Orangina and gathered up my things. Just as I was about to walk out and make a quick, not-awkward get-a-way, I turn around to catch one last glimpse of this guy who I'll probably never see again. The couple walked away from him at that moemnt and cut me off before I could make it out the door. The performer wound his way around and through the crowd and asked me if I was leaving. I look at my watch. It was already 23:30. I look at the crowd still left, waiting to speak to him. I look back at my watch.

"Nah. I don't really have anywhere to go. How about you?"
He sits at a nearby table and looks down at the complimentary king-sized cup of beer the cafe provided. "I've still to finish this."
"Cool. Do you mind if...?" I wave to the empty chair across from him.
He smiles. I sit. He finishes up the conversation with the admirers who have come closer.

This is where it gets really awkward. Before, it was nice and mysterious, and we would have been like two ships passing in the night. Mysterious and forever good. However, I just sat there awkwardly for a few minutes while he conversed in German. I can only understand a smattering still and just smiled here and there.

Then they left. We talked for about 5-10 minutes: he was from Oregan, he was doing his master's in Berlin, he knows that my school's football team really sucks and informed me that his team trounced mine in the Pac-10s. Then a girl comes out of the bathroom and sees him still sitting in the cafe. She rushes over and starts gushing over him.

"Do you mind if I join you? I'm visiting and have to wait another two hours before my host gets back from Frankfurt."

He's very nice and says, "Of course." Then I see him eyeing her and me. We're both sitting across from him. The cafe owner pops up from underneath the bar. "Wait. Where did that couple go? They didn't pay." We all shrug. She starts running around, grumbling and cussing about how they ate dinner and drank a lot and owed her more than the paltry 3 euro of a drink cost. The girl starts talking to him and I suddenly feel like a third wheel. O_o I sit there awkwardly some more, looking at my watch from time to time. There went 1 minute. Then another 30 seconds. Now another 15 seconds. Now another minute.

Finally, the couple (who forgot to pay) comes rushing back into the bar, profusely apologizing and acting satisfactorily apologetic. As the cafe owner rings them up, I figure this is the perfect distraction to make my getaway.

"Ah. I really have to go. You played a great set tonight. I really enjoyed your songs! Have fun!"

Have fun. Ugh. Those were my last words. I am so inept and unsophisticated.

I walked back to my flat in the warm summer's night. It started to drizzle lightly and I took a deep breath and smiled as I looked up at the heavens. So this is what it means to experience Berlin.

i wonder when...

Fri, 08 Aug 2008 00:13:56 GMT

I wonder when it won't bother me anymore. I wonder when I can let go of this burden.

I read about the My Lai Massacre on Wikipedia just now. I happened upon it after reading about the Stanford Prison experiment and the Milgram Yale experiment. I also read the plot to Sophie's Choice on imdb, which is along the same lines. Reading about it (the My Lai Massacre), knowing that it was decades ago, even generations ago, one can be very objective and far removed from the actual emotion of the events.

On March 16, 1968, American troops were tasked with terminating the Viet Cong in the area. Although it is said that perhaps only 3-4 of the villagers were actual VC, and some others were supporters, some 300-500 people were brutally murdered by our troops. Many of these were women, children and elders. Eye-witness accounts relate stories about how some officers tried to save those still moving in ditches, but that they were stopped by others who opened fire to "end the suffering" of the Vietnamese.

This was before your time, you might be thinking. It's done, past, and the US government has since acknowledged its existence. Everything is ok now. Just enjoy your life right now. And yet...was it really before my time? And because the government acknowledges it doesn't make it right, and shouldn't mean that they are absolved for that atrocity. You might be wholeheartedly agreeing with the latter, but may be a little confused on the former. Let me try to explain.

My mother used to tell us about stories of our uncle when we were young. You know? When you were a kid and didn't want to eat everything on your plate, well, most mothers on TV tell their kids that if they don't eat then they won't grow up strong. My mother told us that our uncle couldn't eat, so he died.

After the withdrawal of the American troops from the Vietnam conflict in the mid-1970s, many Hmong had to flee their villages in the mountains of Laos and hide in the jungles. The cause: the Secret War; the consequence: ethnic genocide. My parents had to hide in the jungles for years, living off of the vegetation, for the villagers couldn't light too many cooking fires in fear that the soldiers would see and hunt them down. Many traveled in packs, and my uncle was in the same pack as my parents. Unfortunately, he couldn't digest the leaves from the jungle...

However, that's not so much related to the My Lai Massacre as another story in which my cousins witnessed the murder of their parents and their toddler sister right before their eyes. They were huddled quietly in the brushes nearby.

Ah, but perhaps these are just stories to scare children. That's what I eventually figured out when I came to realize that my parents liked to embellish their stories in order to scare some sense into their children.

But that doesn't explain the scar on my mother's leg, and it doesn't explain how sometimes, when my parents think that no one is around, I can see that they sometimes get this faraway look in their eyes and seem to bear the weight of the world on their shoulders. They seem so tired and worn, as if they've seen too much and expect too little. It sounds so cliche and, therefore, fake. So why should I feel the need to bear this weight? I should just let it die with the generation that went through it.

And yet, I learned about the most serious of their experiences at such an impressionable age. It has stayed with me so long and has determined so many actions that I've made since then. I can't just shed something that has become such an integral part of my identity. This is the reason why it sometimes seems so pointless to do many of the inane activities that people engage in. You see, this goes back to the war that rages inside of me. One side is clearly the daughter of refugees; the other guiltily tries to shed that persona in order to live some semblance of an average American life.

Perhaps you'll understand my dilemma when you read about my day in the next entry.

how to identify

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 18:33:07 GMT

There were a few things that bothered me about the guy who I went out with last week. I suppose the first thing that immediately comes to mind is how everyone, even he, assumed that we would get together because we were the only Asian people at the party. (It was a small German family gathering, so it wasn't one of those wild and crazy frat parties where everyone just randomly hooks up.) And why should that bother me so much?? I've asked myself that question so many times in the last couple of weeks and I've come up with a few unsatisfactory answers. I felt guilty because it might have to do with how I'm more often attracted to white men than Asian men. (Ie: I was more attracted to the Germans at the BBQ than I was to him.) However, I think that this may have more to do with proximity than actual preference. I felt offended because it was assumed that we would just naturally get along. And I felt confused because perhaps the Germans just weren't as friendly as this guy, and they didn't mean it as a race thing at all.

So was I not immediately attracted to him because he was Asian or because his body type (discounting the his skin tone) didn't fit with those who I usually am attracted to (tall, lanky types)? Am I that shallow that I wouldn't like him just because he was Asian? Or were they that shallow because they assumed that I only like Asians?

Ah, that's where the date comes in. Maybe we would hit it off, after all.

I also figured that I need to hang out with people my own age. After the disastrous beginning of this summer, I haven't really been hanging out with anyone younger than 30 (unless you count the 18-month-old little girl who sometimes hangs out in the office). So, this was one of those things where I was going to kill two birds with one stone. First, I would be getting out and seeing Berlin and second, I would be sociable enough that people wouldn't feel sorry for me.

So I decided to go out with this guy. All week, I had my reservations and still wanted to cancel, even as I took the subway to meet him. It wasn't such a bad date. I mean, there were awkward moments, as any such first dates go, but it wasn't too bad. We got some Korean food and talked for a little bit. Actually, we talked for about 5 hours.

Five hours?! you must be thinking. Are you sure you don't like this guy?? Wait. Wait. You'll see why I'm sure I'm not attracted to this guy.

The first part was ok. It was just some light banter. Talked about drinking and partying, friends and superficial experiences. Turns out he had just returned from a year abroad at a Michigan univerisity. His experience wasn't so great because apparently the Americans aren't as friendly or as diverse as he expected...

Then we started talking about our lives. Ah, that's where I start talking about my family history and my rant about today's youth. But you've already caught a glimpse of the latter from some of my previous posts.

He started to talk about being adopted. He's of Korean descent, but he was raised by Germans in Germany. So he essentially grew up as a German and feels more German than he does Korean. He talked a little about how he once went back to South Korea and he had been really weirded out and put off by the manner in which he was treated. He said that everyone expected him to act and talk Korean, to feel some kind of connection with Korea, even though he didn't feel Korean. After all, who we are is what's inside, right? Not what we look like. So who's to tell him that he should feel an equal (or stronger) connection to Korea than to Germany? I agreed. Kind-of.

Then I started talking about being Hmong. How being Hmong and being American was so difficult. I mean, it isn't difficult in an obvious way, like being hungry or being physically disabled. No, this is psychological warfare that attacks in subtle ways. I can understand what he meant when he said that he felt one way, but that due to his physical appearance, someone else wanted him to feel another way.

However, he wasn't as understanding as I when I told him about this. About how being at home meant that I had to be Hmong, and that being outside meant that I had to be American. It's a complex struggle that only those who have grown up female in an old-fashioned family can understand. You kind-of get a sense of this when you read Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club. However, the sense that someone else gets from reading this book is probably the same sense that I get of the African-American struggle when I read The Autobiography of Malcolm X or of the experience in the Soviet Union gulags when I read the recently-deceased Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. Unless you have experienced it yourself, you get the momentary pangs of guilt and pity when you read the manuscript, and then you continue on with your life, trying to overcome your own daily challenges.

He essentially told me that I should have more pride in what and who I am. That I have to make my own identity as the new generation of Hmong in America. I am me; I am the new Hmong and I am the new American; I should take a hold of this identity and just move on from this self-pity of my adolescent struggles. Like I don't already know this.

However, I think that owning an identity is not so simple. I don't feel sorry for myself everyday because I am a Hmong-American. I feel pride in this, but with the pride comes the responsibility of representing my people. It's sometimes a heavy burden for someone who has no idea how to go about representing.

But if I don't even know who I am, if I don't know about my own history, if I don't know the language and the cultural traditions that tie it all together, then what will guide me in life? Some people have their religion, others have their experiences. You can only count on your parents and others until a certain point. Even they are not with you every moment of the day.

Back to the main point: the guy. It made me so very frustrated because he was telling me that I should own up to who I am. I should take pride in all of this, and I shouldn't be so frustrated by what society expects from me. However, he himself is running away from who he is. Who is he to tell me that I should get over this when he can't even begin to start reconciling his own identity?

If it's one thing I can't stand, it's when people don't know enough about a particular area and then start to lecture me in that area. He told me that he likes to argue, but if he argues just to hear the sound of his own voice (which he admitted he liked to do, because he'll just keep on talking even if he doesn't think about his words), then that doesn't really indicate to me that he's intelligent (which I think he's trying to do by immediately talking about his ability to stump Americans in wordplay). It just indicates that he'll more often than not jump to some conclusion and continue on that vein until the end of the discussion when he takes a breath and actually thinks about what he said.

So if you wanted to know all the tiny little details, a minute-by-minute account, of my date, you got it in the form of our discussion.

i do this to myself, you know

Sun, 03 Aug 2008 00:15:08 GMT

I ended up doing none of the mentioned options. I didn't even manage to get one Eis in the past 6 hours, although I really wanted to at certain points. Instead, I wasted more than 25euro. I ended up going to a club with some girls and feeling so very awkward and bored the whole time because that's just not my type of scene.

Ugh. Tonight was a wasted night. I do this to myself, you know.

dilemma

Sat, 02 Aug 2008 18:10:46 GMT

It's a Saturday night, and what am I to do?

I've got two main options, and two backup options. None of them are very attractive in my opinion, but perhaps I'm just thinking too much about it. I need to decide in the next 20 minutes, though.

Ok, the first option. I can stay in my flat and balance my checkbook. I know what you're thinking, but it's been bothering me for a couple of days now, and given my recent housing and financial situation, I probably need to know how much I can spend in order to at least break even. As it is, I'm just kind-of hoping that I won't have to dip too much into my savings...Oh, and while this seems like the safe thing to do, one of my coworkers may know my flatmate and hinted that she may be gay. O_O With my luck, she'll probably start hitting on me if I stay too long in the flat.

The second option is that I've been invited to a bar in one of the cool parts of town: Potsdamer Platz. Only problem is that I went out last night with the guy who invited me and he "had a really good time last night ;)". If you can't tell, I'm not that interested in him, and this shindig that he invited me to is with his really close friends. While I want to meet other people my age and just hang out, I think that if I hang out with this guy's really close friends, then they'll all know that I'm there because of him, and then there will be this subtle "hands off"/"keep out" signal that really close friends are always aware of. So then it'll be like I'm there because of him and I'm kind of encouraging him. And if you know me, then you know that I'm not suave enough to play it off if I actually do end up going. And he's got really cute friends who I may not be able to touch with a stick because of last night. >_<

One of the backup options is that I may have been invited to hang out with my bosses. O_O I think they've taken me on as a charity case. I also think that they truly like me and aren't just doing it out of pity, but there's still a little bit of pity in it. Maybe I am pitiful, though. But they're really cool nonetheless. Oh, and if I do end up doing that, then I may have to put up with one of their friends hitting on me all night. >_<

What's my last option? I can't really remember, but I think it may have to do with getting some ice cream across the street. What's really cool about the place that I live in is that I live 10 minutes away from work (walking), across the street from a nice ice cream/cafe, and down the street from a pho place. However, that's only good for about 20 minutes (30, max).

Ah!!! What to do, what to do??!

business sense gone awry

Thu, 31 Jul 2008 08:37:36 GMT

I don't really think that I'm cut out to be an adult. Perhaps this is why I stopped growing in the fourth grade (I was really tall when I was young...). It hasn't even been a month since my arrival in Berlin, and I'm already so stressed with all this grownup stuff. Finding a flat, staying in the flat, legal issues, financial issues...I'm so tired.

However, I have moved into what will hopefully be the last flat of the summer (how many times have I said that so far??). It's a nice small, long room with a 40-year-old art historian. Evi and Simon have seen the room, and they have deemed it livable. It's clean, it comes furnished, and it's only a 10-minute walk away from the office. It's in a great, central neighborhood, and my window looks out onto the busy street. It's kind-of cool. What I imagined my youth to be like. Only 52 more days...

fifth move so far. at least one left to go.

Mon, 28 Jul 2008 23:13:44 GMT

Ah, being social, talking to normal people and getting out. That's one way you could describe the past few days. You could also describe it as living in hell, a very sad state of affairs and a comparably toxic experience to what happened with my other flat issue. However, both of those are really mutually exclusive. How? Well, read on, dear voyeur.

After my last entry, I slowly made my way back home. It turns out that more mushrooms had grown since then. To make one of my normally long stories short, I called my bosses and they let me stay over in the office. They've been really great in helping me out with this current situation. I was practically freaking out and about to hyperventilate. Very interesting experience, by the way.

Today we went back to the apartment in order to collect my things. I hadn't gone back since Saturday night, and it's now Monday night .Two days. What happens in two days? The second batch of mushrooms dies and the third generation comes in. O_O The third generation is like a forest. That's all I'm going to say. I might throw up.

But, it turns out that that's not the worst part. One of the neighbors came by and he saw all the mold in the apartment. Turns out that the black mold that was running up and down the walls is actually really bad for one's health. He'll be helping us out and sending pictures and an explanation to the homeowner.

I haven't yet told you how the guy whom I'm renting from actually, despite all this, still thinks that I should pay him for the rest of the summer, even though I'm no longer staying there and he wants me to return the key to a friend. What a crock.

In other news, that guy who lives upstairs is kind of cute in a lanky, German way. My favorite...

My bosses felt really bad for me and took me out with them on Saturday. She was having a family get-together, and invited me. It was all great fun. We got lost in the outskirts of the city for about 3 hours (when it should have only taken us about 40 minutes to get to our destination) and I took a great many pictures of the countryside. It's intrigued me.

Then I met a Korean guy who'd been adopted when he was three. Turns out he was wandering around the streets of a South Korean market, and they never found out who his parents were. So some German couple adopted him and now he may look like a Korean, but he's actually a German. Cool story. I just didn't tell it right. We're going out for drinks later.

We also found a great place for me to move in to. It's with an art historian woman, and it looks SO clean. It's white and you see everything. Every little dot, AND it's very central. More so than the moldy place. This place is actually literally a 10 minute walk down the street. It's about 2 blocks away from this office.

However, I'm also looking at a place in about eight hours that's out of town. The owner may be giving me a deal, but we'll see how it works out.

I'm just ready for my own room. This has certainly a learning experience.

the search for wifi

Sat, 26 Jul 2008 14:39:03 GMT

I've found this great little cafe/restaurant with free wifi. It's taken me all day to find this place, and after wandering around from cafe to cafe, asking in my broken and hesitant german if they have wifi, I've finally found it.

I started off the day at the hauptbahnhoff, which is where I started the previous entry. I was totally grossed out and prepared to camp out there. However, I had to pay for the wifi and the registration page was all in german, so I spent about half an hour just trying to figure it out. Then, I purchased 2 hours worth of internet usage, only to be kicked off after an hour. Because I didn't want the same thing to happen again, I left. And sat outside for a little bit, contemplating what to do next.

I had a few options: I could go back to my flat. No. I could go in to my office and chance my bosses being there. I'm sure they wouldn't mind, but then they would think that I was this sad little being with no life. Which I am, but I don't need people telling me that when I already know it myself. I could try sightseeing. But I had all my stuff with me, and carrying around stuff when sightseeing isn't very fun. Plus, I was too tired from the previous night to really want to do anything.

Really, all I wanted to do was find a nice little cafe, sit and play around on my computer. Internet would have been nice because I'm trying to redesign the HSU website, but it wasn't exactly necessary. However, finding an open cafe...an open anything not on the main streets...on a Saturday afternoon is really difficult.

So I left the hauptbahnhoff after such ponderings and wandered around for a bit. Maybe a couple of hours. I saw a great many sights and there are so many great things that I live around, but I forgot my camera in my other bag and couldn't document such quaint little shops and businesses. Really, this was the key all along to spur me into action. Just gross me enough out of my funk, and I'll wander around like no one's business.

And I found this little shop. I'm currently sitting here. Oh man. It was actually pretty strange when I first walked in here. It's actually kind of quiet in here, which is nice. But when I first walked in, there was a big group of people sitting in the corner. Except they were all staring at me. Like, all of them, and they weren't being very surreptitious about it, either. I stared back at them, and then looked at the bartender and started talking to him. But I looked back at the group every now and then and found them all just quietly, and unabashedly, staring at me. It was quite disconcerting.

They're gone now, though. And I'm sitting here typing away. Typing, typing...

the one where i throw up all over myself (get the 'friends' reference?)

Sat, 26 Jul 2008 14:07:23 GMT

Ok, it's actually only happened to me once in my life, so don't get so grossed out. And although it didn't quite happen where I threw up all over myself yesterday, I really thought that I would.

It's actually only happened once where I remember throwing up all over myself. I was eight and in Mrs. Horton's third grade class. She looked a lot like what I would picture the teachers in the Laura Ingalls Wilder books would look like. You know? Old people's clothes, wrinkly and white. Anyway, she gave us a class assignment, and me being the star student that I was, was way beyond all the other kids in the class. While they were just beginning to construct their introductory paragraphs, I was already completing my final draft. We were learning how to write 3 whole pages on a topic, and I think I wrote about how my mom washed clothes.

Hey. I was eight. That's all I knew.

So I was studiously at my desk while all the other kids were trying to get their paragraphs peer-edited, when I suddenly felt it. It was this weird burning sensation that first started in my stomach, then traveled up to my throat and then tried to make it's way out through my mouth. Except, I didn't want it to. I told myself I would finish the last paragraph, calmly run to the bathroom, and then do the deed where no one would be the wiser. Except, after about five minutes of trying to swallow it down, it finally came out and everything else passed in a blur (except for the part where my parents picked me up and we went to WalMart). Amazing that I can remember that much in detail, huh? Afterwards, I heard that Katie D. had to wipe up my essay and put it out to dry. I've felt guilty about that ever since.

Anyway, back to the current story. It was a little worse than that, if you can imagine. If you have a weak constitution, I would advise you to stop reading. It's making me a little queasy just thinking about it.

I was in the middle of an entry yesterday when I abruptly stopped typing. I don't remember which part I was at, but let me just say that within 24 hours, I had been bitten at least 16 times. Whether it was by 1 bug or by more, I really don't want to know...

Work went ok. I went to the Apotheke and got some much needed drugs: some balm for my irritated skin and some bug spray to put on in my room. I think it's somehow wrong that I wouldn't need the bugspray for the outside world, but for the shelter that's somehow supposed to protect me from all the elements in the outside world. Go figure.

Then I went home. Oh, god. I went home. >_<

I was really excited. I had just purchased a huge bottle of soy sauce. People kept looking at me strangely as I walked through town with it, for if you've ever seen the larger bottles, they look like wine bottles. And I'm sure that it must have looked strange for a tiny little asian girl to be carrying around such a bottle. Or perhaps not.

I got home, and put on the balm and the spray. Everything went ok. I reheated some food from the previous night, and finished that. But I was still hungry, so I decided to make some more. Except, after looking at my trash, I realized that it was overfilling, and I should probably take it out. I crept a little closer and started to pick it up. And something moved.

O_O

I wasn't sure what it was, so I gingerly picked up a part of the trash bag that didn't have anything moving on it, and lifted. And oh my god, there were maggots. There were so many maggots just crawling around. I have not idea how long they've been there, but apparently it takes about 8-10 days for them to hatch. Which is how long those trash bags have been lying there. I'm pretty sure there were more in the trash bag, but I picked it up and threw it in another bag and then tied it up as tight as I could so that those little critters couldn't get out. Then, for those that hadn't been in the bag, I put a piece of paper on them and then started going to town. I can still feel their tiny little bodies being squeezed to death. Then I threw it all away.

And I can't quite look at rice the same way. They're shaped the same way and are the same color. And I remember my mom telling me about bugs that pop up out of dried rice when you leave it out too long. That really freaked me out because I started imagining the tiny grains of rice turning into maggots in my stomach. O_O Oh my god. My night was not fun.

Also, I had to force myself to eat all the rice that was already on my plate because I didn't want to throw anything away and have it turn into maggots. (By the way, I have since learned that maggots aren't made out of rice, and that I have nothing to fear from cooked, hot rice. But I didn't know that last night, and I was so very freaked out at the prospect of having little things crawling around...ugh.) And in the middle of this, I started watching the movie Eastern Promises, which is a very good movie and Viggo is so very hot and gorgeous and I would totally tap that. However, the very first scene in the movie is of a murder, and you get to see the whole business. Throat slashing and all. I was eating a dish with tomatoes. With the tomatoes, the image of maggots and fears of being eaten alive by bugs, it's actually quite a wonder that I didn't lose my dinner.

HOWEVER. I'm not done yet.

What?! you might be thinking. There's more??

Oh, god. Yes, there's more.

And just to let you know. I'm now camping out at the Hauptbahnhof, which is about a 15 minute walk from my place. It's now the next afternoon, and I'm pretty sure I won't be returning to my apartment unless I really need to, which will probably only be for sleep and maybe some food.

But anyway, I decide to try my luck at taking a shower. Jesus. Which is another problem in itself. Let's just say that it took me 40 minutes the other day to try to turn on the hot water, and I still didn't succeed. And I know it wasn't me because the owner of the apartment came back for a day and he couldn't get it either.

However, I succeeded, and was so happy I started to dance around the flat. Just a hop and a flit here and there. But, when I got to the bathroom entrance, I happened to look down and woe and behold, there was a mushroom.

Uh huh. A mushroom. Actually there were more than just one. There was a whole row of them growing across the entrance. I've heard of these queer little creatures growing around moldy and old areas, but I had never actually seen one grow right before my eyes. It hadn't been there the previous night, and it was huge. I mean, it wasn't like in Mario Brothers, where you can talk with it, but it was at least an inch and a half tall.

Eeeugh.

I calmly walked backwards to my room, sat down and contemplated my plight. Then I started to shake my head. Then I started to scratch my whole body. Then I started to go crazy and proceeded to trash the whole place.

Not actually, but it's kind of a nice thought. Except that I would have to touch everything.

Instead, I slowly walked backwards to my room and started to strip my bed. I put everything in the wash and continued to watch the movie. After that finished, I took a shower, all the while ignoring the miniature life forms staring at me from the doorway. Then I watched another movie. Did some more laundry and went to sleep.

It's only 57 more days in Berlin. Don't tell me that I should move out. Don't tell me that I should find something better. Don't tell me that I should have thrown out my trash weeks ago. Just don't tell me anything. I've figured it all out by now. After reading blog entry after blog entry about maggots, mushrooms and worms, I've gotten my fill of all the disastrous events that could happen to me if I continue to live in the apartment that I currently reside in. Believe me, some of that information will give me nightmares for the next few weeks. (If you do your own research, you'll also be getting nightmares and flashes of wiggly things from time to time.)

Oh, and why worms? I imagined the worse last night and figured those maggots would turn into worms inside my body and...well, I'll just leave it at that and leave you to your own imagination. Don't worry. I probably don't have worms...

So what am I going to do? Ah ha ha. You should have seen my glee in the drug store today when I found this little Raid contraption that you plug into the electrical socket. Stefan, who I work with, was horrified when I told him that I wanted to zap the little buggers to death. However, when you've been bitten as much as I have, sympathy for such creatures is no longer an option.

At the beginning of my stay, I was all fun and games and tried my best to open the window in the morning so that they didn't have to ram themselves continuously into the window in order to get out. However, when they start laying their eggs, biting the shit out of me and whatever other devious little tricks they do, that's when I start getting a little sadistic.

I bought my bug zapper, I'm not going to be in that apartment any longer than I have to be, and I'm going to bleach and salt the flat to death. (Apparently, mushrooms don't like salt.) Let's just hope the building doesn't fall down in the next 57 days...

quick update

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 08:34:44 GMT

ACK! I think there may be a bug infestation in my flat. This is truly becoming the summer from hell. I didn't think that I would have to go through all this frustration until I actually left for the Peace Corps, but I suppose this is all a good test to see how long I can stay sane.

I have been bitten 10 times in the last 12 hours. More, if you count the multiple bites on one spot. I think they may be biting ants or something. I caught one on me earlier, and now I'm going crazy thinking that they're all over me. I suppose I'll just go to the grocery store this evening and get some bug killer. That's going to be a very satisfying moment.

In other news, I caught the tail end of the Obama speech in town last evening. It was interesting seeing all those people there. Many of whom I am assuming don't know English. The reports say that there was an upwards of 100,000 people there. So many different languages were spoken.

Ooops. gotta go. will update later.

it's how i know i'm settling in

Wed, 23 Jul 2008 15:26:51 GMT

I'm sorry I don't have anything exciting to report. I suppose I'm just making myself too comfortable here in Berlin. The days kind of just pass by in a blur. I wake up, eat some breakfast, swat the fly that's usually ramming itself into the window (in an effort to get out of the apartment...stupid bug), go to work, work, and then come back to the flat. After making some dinner and reading more about the computer world, I play on my computer for a bit and then go to sleep. Doesn't sound so exciting, huh?

Of course I could also tell you about the little bits that amuse me on my daily walks through town.

The teenage couple walking in front of me: the girl with her arm around his waist, the guy with his hand on her...uh, well, let's just say that he was doing some very indecent things with his hands, and I couldn't help but laugh at the audaciousness of his actions in broad daylight (especially while being escorted by two persons who I assume were her parents).

The toddler who insists on pushing her toy stroller along, 15 feet behind her long-suffering father. Except, instead of pushing, she just stands there and looks at her dad. It reminded me of an old woman crossing the street with her walker: she's going at such a snail's pace that you fear she'll never get across without getting hit first. Finally, he takes the stroller away from her. She doesn't cry, but stands 5 feet away from him. When a stranger comes near, she practically trips over herself in an effort to get to her dad (I'm pretty sure that at even that age, she knows to fear strangers and the possibilities of kidnapping).

The same group of middle-aged Germans sitting on the bench in front of the bar by my office, smoking and drinking at 10 o'clock in the morning and at 6 o'clock in the evening. They all kind-of turn as one and stare at me as I pass.

The cute grocer who sits behind his cash register at the neighborhood Aldi's. A couple of teenage girls giggle and hold up the line after gaining his attention. It's disgusting, really, but when my turn comes up, I can't help but get lost in his beautiful, kind eyes...

The 4-year-old little boy who enters the U-Bahn crying in his father's arms. The parent tries to sit his child down and calm him, but he instead walks unsteadily over to the discarded newspapers on the floor and carefully picks up each and every flyaway sheet. Quietly, he carefully folds each paper back into place and then sits calmly next to his father.

And while I feel guilty at the very thought of not feeling like a tourist in such a great city, I am content knowing that no matter where I go in the world (or in life), there will always be audacious, cute, stalkerish, beautiful and considerate people around.

ouch!

Tue, 22 Jul 2008 15:55:56 GMT

Some bug bit the shit out of me the other night. Now I have three big bumps running diagonally across my thigh. Two of those bumps are huge and I can see at least two bites on each of the bumps (there's so much poison and the place where I was bitten is bright red). I hope I killed that bug in my sleep.

On the other hand, work is going well. My bosses love my design ideas and I am eating it all up. I'm working on a lot of different projects off and on. There are a lot of projects running at the office here and I've also taken on some in my spare time as well. It's quite nice actually.

Rachel and Emily visited this past weekend. That was nice too. A little tiring, but nice. I rediscovered Berlin. Apparently I really do live in the middle of the city. It's quite exciting. Now I suppose all I need to do is muster up enough energy to actually go out and do things. I suppose it's not the most exciting thing to tell people that I prefer writing HTML to riding a train across Europe.

Oh no. Running out of battery (I forgot my adapter today). Tschüß!

Let the games begin

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 12:21:17 GMT

Update: Last night was fun. I talked to one of my almost-flatmates last night for a few hours. We went to this Afrikanishe-themed bar, and she got two drinks on the house (I only received 1). However, it ended up being so late that I almost missed the last train out of the southern part of town, and I definitely missed the last train that would connect me to the line that runs past my flat. So I stood in the dark for about 5 minutes, really confused as to what to do. An Englishman confused me for a Berliner, and I led him astray. "Ich weiß nicht," I told him. I suppose I didn't lead him astray, so much as I didn't let him know that we were headed in the same direction...So then I got on another line that took me a little closer to my flat, then took the bus. It was maybe two in the morning, and it was a grand adventure. I suppose I shouldn't feel so bad about leading him astray, as I was also a little tipsy. Oops. O_o

crazy old lady

Wed, 16 Jul 2008 09:20:34 GMT

These Europeans...they don't know what they got.

The other day I was walking down the street, trying to walk as fast as I could without seeming like an American idiot to all these cool, suave Germans, in an effort to catch the next Metro, and I saw this girl walking towards me. She had on casual-wear, but her body was amazing and fit and she looked so healthy. (I don't know if you can tell how envious I was...) And then she got closer and I realized that she wasn't in her twenties. She didn't even look like she was in her thirties! ...Or maybe she was, but the problem was that you could tell she was a smoker.

Ah, that's what they should do to smokers in the US. They should bring them over to Europe to see how it affects them. Germans have such amazing bone structure, they're so tall (at least, they're taller than me) and they seem to take good care of their skin. They look amazing in their youth, but after years of smoking, you can really see the wrinkles and the aging spots on their face. It's sad, really.

However, I was really relieved when saw her face. It's horrible of me to even think that, I know, but there was some part of me saying, See? That's why you shouldn't smoke. Good job. I'm that vain. I want to delay the physical aging as long as I can, which is why I'm not really looking forward to my sixties or seventies.

Yea, yea. They say that you get more respect (in some cultures at least), that you're wiser, more knowledgeable about the world, blah blah blah. I feel that with the passing of each day, so I don't need no stinkin' decrepit old body to signal to everyone else that I've gone through a lot in my life. And also, I'm pretty sure my mind is going to go when I'm that old.

Every now and then I write an entry that is completely crazy and nonsensical and just a random rant, but I keep it on private, so that only my eyes will ever see it. However, some weeks later I usually "unlock" it. Like one of those hidden levels in video games. It's not essential to the plot, but it's an extra feature, if you'd like to partake.

How does this relate to me going insane when I'm older? Well, if my mind is already going at this age, there's no telling how insane or eccentric I'll be in forty or fifty years. O_O I'm pretty sure I'm going to be one of those really crazy old ladies who all the kids are afraid of. I'll make really delicious cookies and try to pass them out, but the kids will all be so wary that they're going to decline them and miss out. I'll also knit these amazing old blankets (because I'll be in my little old house all the time) and try to give them out to the neighborhood families, but they'll be so sketched out by my crazy hair that they'll also decline and miss out.

Ah, I have such great plans for the future.

I had a dream last night in which I was hit by a metro bus. I really need to start looking both ways when I cross the street. Jaywalking is dangerous.