Three months of days and ways

Since Halloween, it has been over 30 kg
and that seems bloody fantastic.

I keep working on German
and have even started teaching people
     who can now say hallo.

Things sound idyllic
but I still want to go away.

Is it crazy to want to give up staring at a computer screen for at least 40 hours a day, doing the same work all the time, yet a secure job, to want to struggle to find a job in another country?

Am I wrong?

I am lost or close to getting lost.

Terrified of being rejected before I apply to a program, and terrified to get accepted.

Maybe there is something wrong with me.

Another year past

Two months I was 17.7 kg lighter.
It is nice, but i have not put myself in torment
      throughout the holidays
pay a third of my weekly paycheck for daily substance
    half of the normal amount

to loose .6 kg.

Then to be told how bloody fantastic it is.
No. Fuck that.


I just want it to be June. The wedding, to stand behind a friend.

And hopefully an end to this in sight.


Hopefully certified and with prospects.

Tis the season for food

Food has gotten easier to be removed from my life.
I see results and I guess that matters.
But food and dining is such a social and cultural thing.
Going to see a friend in Indianapolis, he had planned to go out, dine on homemade soup in handmade bowls. But I cannot.
And all the meetings.
How do you feel this week?
Have you wanted to eat food?
Have you been good on your diet?
Can I just go? This is infuriating.
Yes, I want to eat.
I want to eat real food daily.
I want to go out with friends and commune over Chipotle, or meet an out of town friend for German beer.
Enjoy the holiday, warmed by the food in our bellies, a fire, and community.
Nothing sounds better.


And I know, these bitchings are one of luck.
When people know of war, starvation, incurable illness. Fresh water is a luxury. Each time I want to break, I donate. Help someone build a well, or send money to children dying.

Something I never have to worry about.

Either way, it is Christmas season at work. There are two trays of candies and cookies. Honey baked ham has been served.

I keep eating diet pudding.
They make me hate food.

Another beginning

The insurance agency says I have one chance to do this. Get a new start on life. 

In the weight department.

So two weeks into it, I thought to write 

a whatever this is. 

I gave up food

and realized how addictive food is. 

But also, how much time we invest in food.

I have read more in these past two weeks, listened to more (of the same) music. Wrote.

Listened to people (usually while watching them eat).

I get addiction now. To have a setting to catch up, when a friend comes in from out of town involves food and drink. Celebrating successes and offering sympathy involves food. To live socially involves food.

All television, wither commercial or within the story, involves food. Scenes in books have feasting or a dinner. It is omnipresent. 

15 pounds in fourteen days is a feat, and should be easy to overcome these temptations. 

But like the night creeping upon a candle in a Halloween movie, I keep watching people eat, wanting to taste, consume. 

It is getting darker earlier, colder

exercising isn't an option in the raining ice pellets 

and holidays loom closer with the colorful side dishes and succulent proteins

I must a stone witch immune to temptation and wickedly alone. 

My home

This morning when I woke up early, my algorithmic music player started to play West Side Story's dance driven tune "America" and I realized half way through, I have only one other song about my country on my laptop. It seemed fitting to play Rammstein's beat driven "Amerika" following the dog barking and clapping.

I suppose I should be writing about my Germany travels or getting a job but this seems fitting in today's world.

It's apparent after listening to these two songs how much of a shift and disconnection there is about America in the world.

West Side Story, set in the 1950s, everyone is out of WWII, life is back to booming as America is growing like a child in school.      

West Side Story is also written by Americans.

Rammstein is contemporary. East German men playing badass music and putting on a show of more than women dancing around. This song isn't a love song, as stated abruptly and in English.

It has to be plainly stated. And it needs to be said. American music isn't great at understanding nuances or metaphors, really.

From what we perceive as a great melting pot that is our culture (which is a lie), I feel like it is now a boot crushing cultures. When an iPod sign shines down from a building onto Marienplatz, larger than the Mary the square is named for, we destroy places.

We destroy facts, teaching wrong ones to children. We feed sloppy lies to the masses like overprotective parents stuffing the baby full.

               There was a show about the 80s, and the National Geographic Chanel would have you believe Reagan went to Berlin to tear the wall down, when it wasn't him at all other then adding tension.

               And all of Germany isn't Bavaria. And David Hasselhoff isn't German. Looking at you, Great American Ballpark.

               It's all up to the New York Times to tell you why Scotland should remain tethered to England.

               And why we have to play the hero.

Just long enough to see ourselves as the villain.

Hell, everyone I met in Germany could speak English, even if it was just enough to help a lost traveller get to the nearest Bahnhof.

Why is it so hard to get people here to be bilingual?

To be fair, many people here want and choose to learn Spanish. That's awesome. I would have hated to be forced to learn it.

German was my choice of language. It was that or Latin, which after two years, I was more than willing to drop.

But it's the point of the matter. So many countless people travel from America and venture forth without knowing a bit of the language. We just expect everyone to speak English. Even more than that, we expect them to know everything about America.

I'm sorry.

As an American, I'm sorry.

When the world was heating up, causing a deadly storm in the North Rhine-Westphalia, I apologized. It hurt to see so many solar panels knowing back home, we were aiding in destroying the world while Germany tries to save it.

It's hard to try and get an experience, wanting to work on German more than "name the colors!" and listening to music and movies. (Which is great that I know Zwitter, but not very practical.) Everyone from the people in hostels to waiters and a nice lady from Berlin wants to work on their English. As my pleasant train companion from Dresden to Berlin stated, "It's more helpful for us that you are here. Very better that you know some German."

Great. Glad to help. But I need to know if this is the train I board. Then we can work on English names of zoo animals. It was a great five hour trip. We talked about zoos and chocolate, trees and the loud teenagers. Language is interesting. It is isolating, if you don't speak the native language. So many times on trains and streets just soaking up where you are. It is the best way to feel "other" than you would at home.

It's liberating too. Hours filled with silence. Not one moment of awkward tension.

But between trying to figure out differences between languages for snails and slugs, quiet apathy and understanding of yesteryear can be shared with an exhausted eye twinkle.

               And that's connection.

I guess, I struggle with nationalism. I don't hate America. It's home. Flying back into Cincinnati, after a month in Germany and then three years ago, my month in Scotland, is coming home, knowing my parents are there and we're going to go commune together, talking about adventures, cultures, and life.

These stories aren't about where I was for the most part, but what I did and who I am now. Not saying where isn't important, because like Frodo and Sam find out, you have to go somewhere to have a story.

I cried after Sachesnhausen, became a hermit on the floor of a Hauptbahnhof while all trains were cancelled, felt wind on my face near the Alps, and met some fascinating people along the way.

I'm still struggling with nationalism, as I watched my team, Der Mannschaft, win the world cup, flying a German flag with every win. Shuttering when I hear children mindlessly recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Children don't know what they are saying. I didn't when I was five.

But I still say things like "It's 2014, and we're in America, why is the internet so slow?" or things of that nature. Like I expect things to be better because of my country.

Flags and languages divide us, separate us from each other. Make everyone other and ourselves prideful of us.

But like the shared exasperation of teenagers, these divisions don't have to be.

And once we as an American public realize this, things will get better for travelers.

And hopefully, at home. In the world, who knows. Shit's crazy out there. Did you know not everyone speaks English?

               

Two weeks left

I wish for longer but it isn't easy to find a job here, much less there.

But my bucket list will be complete.

So, the end?

A Day of Being Human

Or life and death.

Overcast during an old friend's funeral. Less than half the class showed, but more than expected.
Two wakes.
Carpool with a great friend.
A baby shower.
Then a celebration of aforementioned friend's birth.

I've been up for 20 hours.
Too tired for tortured metaphors