thursday, july 26
last update: 2:09:47 PM
im taking the last of my free (flights paid by company) weekend trips this weekend. the company only recently realised that i should be paying benefit in kind taxes on the flights that i take somewhere other than munich. up until now i was flying to ireland one weekend a month and every now and then (ok so only once) went off somewhere sunny. before the sun rises tomorrow morning ill be off to portugal. my family are there. this would be the longest amount of time ive spent with them since easter, and even then i spent most of the time at other peoples houses. there are only three beds in the apartment, i have to sleep on the floor. what are the chances i will actually kill someone.
by the way, the shoe came back to me but one of the lads laptops was stolen from work today. i ask myself why they didnt come all the way up to my desk and steal one of my ten or so kinder toys, or my furry camel teddy that lies across the top of my monitor or my voodoo doll with all the pins or the "i know kung fu" postcard that hangs just above my computer. dont even get me started on that little bug that i have in a box and the gold silly putty that i brought back from America before Christmas. these are all of much more worth than a measly crappy hp laptop surely. hell, i often pray for people to take mine!
the amount of work i have to do over the next week and a half has been mapped out by the hour. as has been written on the gates of many a concentration camp "Arbeit macht Frei". nyar
tuesday, july 24
last update: 5:03:22 PM
yesterday morning a bastard of a little wasp was crawling around the footpath outside my apartment and stung me as soon as i passed him by on my way to the airport. the bastard.
proving what a complete baby i am i have been wincing all day at the apple sized bruise on my ankle and itching it constantly. the last time i was so savagely stung was when i was about twelve. i remember that my mothers cousin or some odd sort of relation like that had all sorts of remedies for it like vinegar and listerine and these little blue bag things that you put in the wash to make your clothes white. ive none of that stuff here of course, in fact i dont think you can get any of those things here.
to add insult to injury one of my shoes was stolen from underneath my desk while at work. for two hours i had only one shoe and none of the people i work with would admit to hiding it. shortly after sending the following mail it was handed back to me:
subject: reward for lost/stolen shoe
one only slightly bitten and used (insert company name) pen, should have antique value due to the fact that (name of new company) isnt written on it.
this my darlings is what i have to work with day after day. a never ending laugh. indeed. or something.
monday, july 23
last update: 6:34:27 PM
what do you say to someone who lives far away who you havent heard from in nearly a year
this is what i said:
i had thought that i might never hear from you again. lost somewhere in japan far away for remembering us humble europeans.
i should hope that you are not too bitter and twisted and that the child inside you is still very alive. struggling to deal with the world in my own little way i often feel the same about myself, but then i wake up and realise that there are many things that still make me as excited as the most naive little child and everything is ok.
germany is germany. i dont think i ever had a love of germany and the language is a silly reason to live here. i love to travel, true. i love to think that i am strong enough to move away from ireland and see parts of the world. a lot of the time i think i am punishing myself by being here and other times i am quite happy. i still dont find the germans all that sociable, i find the winters harsh on my photosensitive skin and the work i do doesnt make me all that happy. i work to live and not vice versa but because im enjoying life it doesnt matter all that much. i have a nice flat with herbs and flowers growing very slowly on my balcony. then again possessions never make anyone truly happy, contented maybe but not overly happy. i have a boyfriend but go down the difficult road of long distance once again as he lives in Ireland. This time next year i might be back there, then again this time next year i could be anywhere.
i dont feel old and then it hits me that i do feel old. i pay all sorts of taxes and health insurance (although i dont worry about getting sick with the view that i still have quite a few years of nubility in me) and for the first time own things like furniture, solid things that arent feelings or ideas. "I grow old...I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. " germany gives me the chance to feel young because i work with people who finished college last year but are still six years older than me and then i realise that i feel old because i am not in college. at the same time i have no great desire to return unless it is to further my work in computers as an aid to language learning. overall though i dont think i feel old. i think it will hit me at 26 when i can no longer travel as cheaply as a student. then i will feel old, then i will have my mid life crisis even though 26 is quite the wrong side of the middle of the time line between birth and death.
things are good. i plod along. and you? how can you feel so much older? have you written to me (the not so wise elder) because i am just that, older than you? how is life in japan? are you planning on returning or moving somewhere else anytime soon? have the japanese become used to you and have you lost your western status as sex symbol? do you keep in contact with family and old friends in ireland much. i must say that i have indeed wondered how you are getting on and whether you are happy. did you ever start to chronicle your year on the internet or otherwise as you said you would that last time i saw you with the bag of lemon bon bons in my hand?
i hope you are well. take care.
a whole year. its mad the way things change so much.
friday, july 20
last update: 2:11:17 PM
i was meant to be renting a car to head parachute jumping this weekend. me hopping out of a plane (probably strapped onto someone else who wouldnt be quite as hysterical as myself) and then trying to claim the money back for the jump through the sports benefit package my company (failing, or should i say recently failed american company recently bought by a not so bright looking other american company) offers us as a bribe for all the late nights and last minute orders to fly half way around the globe to a stupid meeting/training course. of course something had to stand in the way, if it wasnt going to be the fact that i was a big chicken and afraid of heights or the fact that i have never driven on the left side of the road before or the fact that i didnt really have the money to throw myself out of a plane at some crazy height then it was surely going to be something dead logical. turns out my flatmates sister is here for the weekend, or at least part of it, so we are chickening out. do have a little note on the wall beside my desk telling me to jump out of a plane soon though. think the others think that i am trying to inform them of my impending suicide in order to make my last few days comfortable here in the office.
wednesday, july 18
last update: 10:33:22 PM
the whole fitness malarkey
just back from spinning class at the gym. spinning for those of you not in the know (note - you are far better for not being in the know) is this crazy ass class where you sit up on a specially modified exercise bike for an hour and pedal every drop of water you seem to ever have drank out through every pore of your body. one of the guys who works with me said that his pulse watch thingy reckoned he had burned over 800 calories in this one hour.
now 800 calories is a lot. like most chicks i could tell you exactly how much of anything you could eat to get this 800 calories back into your system. my preference would be that pizzeria on the way between the gym and the hotel here in Münster, but to each their own. Like most, if not all chicks the media has taught me things like this since i was a child. Im not overweight, Im not underweight, Im far nearer the underweight side than the overweight side of things. I know stupid things like this.
Id like to however remake the point that i dont go to the gym because I am overly obsessed about my weight or my figure. Originally I thought it would give me something to do in the evenings and perhaps if I was lucky I might meet a couple of nice people who I could hang out with. I of course had no idea whatsoever seeing as I had never been a gym member before. I had no idea that the people who went to the gym would be such crazy antisocial idiots or that talking to them would be like drawing blood out of a stone. Its probably better this way because every time I mention that I go to the gym people tend to think that Im some airhead idiot so if I dont have anything in common with them (I can only assume) and dont even talk to them then Im pretty much saved of all that. I actually find it hard not to laugh at some of them from time to time, especially that guy with the weights who looks at his reflection so adoringly in the window or that other guy who makes those tennis star sounds loud enough to hear all over the gym when he lifts the five pound weights. most of the gym superstars are there every night and have tatoos on their most favourite body parts, the Chinese for "Im buff", hieroglyphics for "I work out". I really dont want to be part of this bunch so if you ever hear or see me say anything fitness freak-like then warn me before i start wearing nothing but lycra.
tuesday, july 17
last update: 9:51:44 PM
knackered and watching edward norton on bbcs "talking movies" as i type.
was at gym reminiscing about a time a couple of months when i was unwilling to go to the same gym as the rest of the people at work. as it turns out five of the lads have joined since i did. i had this thing about appearing as sweaty unfit girl in front of these people who only ever saw me sitting at the computer in one of my various black suits. after seeing them five days a week, sitting beside them in planes for three hours a week, eating every meal with them, struggling to teach them manners, growling when im interrupted and secretly giggling at clothes/hairstyles I have given up on feeling at all self concious in front of them. lets pray they never find out how much i really bitch about germans. im off to bed, goodnight.
last update: 12:55:57 PM
cakes and strangers
on saturday night i met some of the other irish blogger people. i didnt feel all that comfortable about it, im not too keen on meeting complete strangers. other times that i have ever met a whole group of strangers in one go have been out of necessity, things like irish college, university and starting work. fortunately the irish blogger people are not all crazy egomaniac nerds (as one might think) and we spent a few hours sitting around talking about the a bizarre group of things from foot fetishists to stephen king, dreams to internet relationships. it was three o clock in the morning by the time i got to bed and it was the first time that a night of my life has been documented by so many people (stella, lisa, helena, tom, ste, mackers and maura) and seeing as ive linked everyone else vincent and cliph were also there.
other than that it was a fairly uneventful weekend. the italian students that were living in our house turned up on friday night incredibly drunk. one already had his eyes closed as the other pushed him up the stairs. my mother made some hilarious comment about her children never doing anything like that.
for the first time in years i was actually around for my mothers birthday. yesterday i secretly made her a birthday cake. actually two birthday cakes, the first one is probably going to be framed and shown to everybody that ever visits our house as proof of my poor baking skills. It could also however be argued that I make a very good sponge–like tasting pancake.
this morning i flew back to germany (something allegedly envied by some). four months ago my friend had given me a big ass candle to bring back (all 9kg of it) to my apartment in munich so i braved it today and took it with me. the security guard at the airport had a great laugh while scanning said candle and asking me what on earth it was for. i was let go after telling him it was a birthday present i had to bring back and burn down a little bit before she came to visit. ive a feeling that even if i lived in germany for the next ten years that most of it would still be there. Of course the rudeness and mullets, not to mention the benefit in kind taxes will have made me flee long before then.
friday, july 13
last update: 12:47:03 PM
sometimes the inspiration just isnt there. i feel like a fraud meeting other blogger types this weekend in Dublin being the archetypal waster that i have been recently.
but ive been doing all sorts of other things like-
- living off super noodles
- reading, finished both leviathan and moon palace by paul auster recently
- going to the cinema, was at three of the munich film festival films
- writing letters
- bitching about german taxes
ive become so obsessed with paul auster that im off to buy another one of his books after work just so that i will have something decent to read on the plane. if you are looking for something to read then pick up moon palace. reading through leviathan i recognised one of his characters as Sophie Calle whose photos I had seen last year in a modern art gallery in munich. she had this crazy series of photos where she had invited random strangers to come over to her apartment and let her take pictures of them as they slept. they came one after the other for a few days and she took photos and interviewed them. another project of hers was one where she got a detective to follow her through the streets of new york. this one is mentioned in the book. later paul auster did a book with her, something i noticed on amazon.
im still waking up in the middle of the night. generally just around 3 o clock in the morning. its the oddest thing. i fall straight back to sleep. its like my body is trying to remind me of something. my body is in some different time zone
something silly that i wrote about david hasselhoff and eminem in an email was stuck up on jamis page in the left hand column. the girls a crackpot.
at home in ireland there is this foreign student infested house waiting for me. i think my mom misses my brothers during the summer when they are in irish college or off doing things that demand so little of her, so she takes in this group of little foreign monkeys who are in dublin to hang out with their friends on the pretence of learning a little english. thousands of these little cretins invade the city, hanging out outside mcdonalds and crowding the buses. in most cases i find my mother murmuring to herself over and over that she is never taking these kids again. normally its a case of the kids being so demented that their parents want to get rid of them for the summer, on second thoughts my family were much the same. i dont remember spending a full july in dublin (apart from last years summer of temping hell) since i was about thirteen and even then i most likely went to some sort of summer arts and crafts school (where i eventually went on to spend summers working). in fact looking the place up i found this book which has a piece of my very own amateur work in it allegedly.
friday, july 6
last update: 11:11:11 AM
its not that i dont have anything to write or that i dont have any inspiration. i just cant get myself to type things down at the moment. my life feels like one of those nodding dogs in the back window of a car. im just sitting here nodding, things are plodding along. i hate those dogs by the way, the way that they are so nightmarishly slow motion and calm. its like waking up in the middle of the night because its too warm.
i think the heat might be the reason. im not sleeping very well. the hotel is in the "red light district", which doesnt really mean all that much because its such a small town. it used to be a brothel, which has amused us all to no end. one side backs on to the train station, the other to the street. in the middle of the night i hear drunks fighting below me as i try to get back to sleep under the noise of the fan. one fact rotating in my head, like those roasting chickens down the road. but the one fact is stupid. A friend told me a few days ago that he used to work in a mattress factory and was told that all mattresses were designed to be able to take in a litre and a half of sweat every night. And things like this and the drunks keep me awake.