This! I’m not the only baby-faced grown-up in her late twenties on planet earth and I kept nodding with almost every single word. New favorite blog!
Schicksal ist ein mieser Verräter
Guardians of the Galaxy
The Wind Rises
Tammy – Voll abgefahren
XMen Days of Future Past
Die Schöne und das Biest
A Million Ways To Die In The West
Stolz und Vorurteil – BBC/Knightley
Der kleine Lord
Full Metal Jacket
Der große Crash
The Winters Bone
Tribute von Panem #1, #2
Rocky Horror Picture Show
Disney Schöne und das Biest
Saving Mr. Banks
My Fair Lady
Chroniken der Unterwelt
Die Tochter meines besten Freundes
Shawn of the Dead
Die durch die Hölle gehen
Das hält kein Jahr
Star Trek & Into Darkness
As many, many others I, too, am in the middle of reflection. I reflect on the past 12 months; on happy days, sad days, surprising days and boring days.
I remember that I wanted to start this year with great news and maybe some happy tears but I was thoroughly disappointed. My fiancé and I broke the news of our engagement to our parents on New Year’s Day. We had a table booked in our favorite restaurant, everybody was happy with their food and the conversations were light but funny. The news of our engagement broke this atmosphere. My future father-in-law was happy, as was my mother’s boyfriend. My future mother-in-law was disappointed that we had waited to tell them and that she didn’t know of my fiancé’s intention to propose. But she, too, regained her composure well and we talked a little about what the perfect wedding would look like. It was my mother that, to this day, still isn’t happy about the “old-fashioned and overdone way” in which we want to spend our future. I know that my father would have been very happy and would have told the whole village that a wedding was closer than ever. I’m sad that I can’t seem to find a way to start a conversation about my wedding with my mother.
I’m also very sad about the fact that I can’t talk about it with my future mother-in-law as she passed away suddenly without a sign of warning. Yet again someone was ripped away from our family picture and we’ll have to meet all our milestones with yet another parent. I was in hospital myself, when I received the news. Due to stress and my already high blood-pressure I almost suffered a heart attack and had to be submitted in the middle of my final stage of training.
On a brighter note, I finally and officially finished my training and I’m now working as a school assistant for a 14 year old autistic boy. This job is not as fulfilling as I hoped it would be, but it is much better on my medical condition, I don’t work as many hours and I am finally working with people that respect me and my training. It is very difficult for this boy to get comfortable around me, as he hoped that his parents wouldn’t find someone suitable for this job. And it is very difficult for me to work with him in a class that he doesn’t want to know about his special need for assistance and about him being autistic. Thankfully puberty didn’t hit those boys and girls hard, yet, and there is still hope for all of us. *lol* I’m just forever thankful to be away from my narrow-minded teachers and all that stress that they put on me and my classmates. I am also very lucky to have found a job in that small field of school assistance with a specialty on autism.
This year I have tried to get reconnected to dancing and I attended some Chairs&Burlesque workshops. They have been fun but I’m still not hooked. As writing was a huge difficulty for me, because of my hand injury last year, I tried to express myself through a video blog on Youtube. I’ll have it removed shortly after I upload this post and I’ll connect these two medias in the future, as I’m still having problems typing. My internet journey brought me to Twitter, Tumblr and Instagram. Twitter I found to be insufferable. Tumblr is a lot of fun, but it’s spoiling almost all my favorite TV shows and movies, so I’ll have to stop using it. I wasn’t sure about Instagram, because it’s such a “Hipster” thing and I felt too old to use it. But after I downloaded this App I discovered that I was just led by prejudice and it is an easy and fun way to celebrate and share those big and little things in life with complete strangers AND friends. And I like everything that is easy in technology.
Then, last month, I revisited my last post on this blog. I’ll have my New Year’s Resolution post for 2015 uploaded for New Year’s Day. Let me just say: I have been a good girl this year and I’m very motivated to continue to be one next year.
I hope you guys had an amazing year and I’d like to say THANK YOU all for letting me and others be part of your life through blogging.
I will remember the year 2014 as a journey. A journey to very different destinations with high waters, thunderstorms but also rainbows and new discoveries. And even though I couldn’t write a book about it, a sketch won’t do either.
It’s been two months now. Two months, 8 weeks, 64 days or 792 hours – or approximately 20 calls. But these are just numbers. What do these numbers do? They make me old.
I feel as if I’ve aged at least 10 years in these last two months. My dad – the one person I could always count on and could always go back to – died 64 days ago. It was a thursday. He wouldn’t call on a thursday. He knew I always had my dancing classes on thursdays so he’d call me on friday. Sometimes he forgot and we would talk to each other a little over half an hour before I had to start. Of course, I was already in the changing room and he’d moan about the bad reception at the gym. Dad would ask me about the pas few days. Even if we already talked two days ago. Hey, a lot could have happened between then and now. He’d also call every time we had visitors. What’s the rumble in the background? OK, dad, let me tell you again…
He was a soul. As long as he was around, I could be mean and hurt and act like a child, because you know what? I WAS a child. What did it matter that I am 24 years old, trying to be someone on my own? He certainly didn’t care. I was his little princess. He didn’t spoil me like one, but he always wanted to. It made him sad that I couldn’t afford a driving liscence. He couldn’t afford it either, so he thought he failed as a dad. But that didn’t matter to me. He helped my boyfriend and I move into our first flat together. He bought a car – you couldn’t really call it a car as it was falling apart, but it could drive and carry his tools – and he’d be spending all of his remaining free-time helping us. Drilling holes, fitting the kitchen, redecorating walls. Everything. He had to make sure I was alright and safe and happy in this flat, before he finally gave in to his condition. Driving away from me was the last drive he undertook. Walking out of our flat to his car were the last steps I’ve seen him make.
He won’t see the Everglades. His wish to live the last years of his life in a little wooden cabin with a fireplace were never granted. He will never see me dance in my wedding dress or join any birthday parties for his grand-children. He can’t celebrate the completion of my training with us. Not really. He won’t be there with us any more steps of our way. Not really. He’s a memory now.
My throat is closing around a rock-hard lump that would not go away. I don’t know if it is the flu or another storm of tears, but I’m successful in gulping around it. It’s true, I miss his comforting words, the way his voice would soften around the edges when he talks to me and his stupid jokes that were only funny, because you just didn’t expect him to make one now. But I know this is good. I know him passing away was good. Would I want him suffer? Would I want to watch him decay slowly? Would I want to give him just another pill that would do the work instead of one of his organs? No, I wouldn’t.
I have to say it is easier to bear than I thought it would be. Dad was prepared. I know he was. And he also prepared me. And I prepared myself. I spent a year abroad, I moved out, we didn’t had any loose ends that would never be matched. I’m on my own two feet and I have been for the past 5 years. I can do this and he knew that. What I didn’t expect was the way I grew; the way I aged. I’m not a child anymore. I want to be treated like a grown-up. Of course, I wanted that before. But there is no king’s throne the little princess can hide behind, when the evil witch gives her barking laugh. She has to stand up for herself with a hand on her shoulder, invisible to everyone else. Everyone but her.
A hand that would weigh down on me and remind me, that this is all that’s left. Do I remember him often? Oh, do I! Everytime I look around. There are lamps that should have been hanging weeks ago, doors that need a patient hand and new paint and a couch that really needs to be replaced. Yeah, Dad can handle it when he comes by the next time. Only, he won’t. I have to rely on my own skill with tools and the opinion of greedy workers at the department stores. I can only shake my head at them every time they come up with another bad solution to my problem. I know Dad would enjoy these little episodes. He’d laugh and say: “Sweetheart, that ain’t stopping you, right? Get the big machines out of their boxes and drill, drill, drill!”
Two months, 8 weeks, 64 days, 792 hours, 20 calls. And all I can do is keep breathing.
All in all, I did not too bad, did I? I wish you all a Happy New Year! I won’t be celebrating, due to the loss of my dad with whom I usually shared a whole days worth of tradition that were special and dear to me. I’m still not doing good enough to celebrate, so please have a shot for me tonight. 😉
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 2,300 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 4 years to get that many views.
I am sitting here with my huge headphones on, because it’s the only way I can function today. As I mentioned in a post before, my health condition isn’t the best. Apart from hypothyreosis, I suffer from essential hyperpression and migraine.
The source of these dysfunctions haven’t been found yet and I rely on heavy medication to get through another day without a heart attack. And, as you can see, a huge amount of humor also takes an important place in my daily routine. Some doctors look quite shocked when they first meet me and listened to my seemingly endless list of physical problems. Then the shocked face has to make room for the sad eyes, followed by The Frown and ending with this nervous playing with their pens. When it comes to this I know I have to find another doctor that has some more ideas on what might be wrong.
And that brings us to today. Whenever I lost hope in yet another professional, I have to resolve to my meds and my headphones. Sometimes the best help is the one we offer ourselves. A few months ago I was looking for some music for an autogenic training session. I’ve run out of suitable music after a few weeks and it stopped the whole success I had with this kind of relaxation programm.
What I’m going to write now is not based on statistics or science. It’s based purely on my experience.
Next to some lovely background music for my relaxation training, I found music that supposedly helps with pain relief. I was quite sceptical at first, even though I learned in school that music can have a very positive effect on the brain. I believed it then and I thought, why not trying it now? I know Largo works wonders while studying. I remember thinking, that it couldn’t possibly hurt any more than it already did, could it?
Boy, was I ever wrong. The first video made it even worse and I lost sight in my left eye completely for the duration of the music. But don’t worry, that’s nothing out of ordinary with my kind of migraine. I have this aura that changes my eye-sight while the attack lasts. After that it’s back to normal. Many others do, too, so it’s nothing to worry about. I can’t drive a car, anyway.
I was shocked, but also intrigued. This was fascinating! Somehow this music manipulates my brain. And if it can make it worse (like no other everyday sound did before) it can make it better, too! And I’m glad I didn’t stop trying there and then. I soon discovered that my brain responds to isotronic beats in a very negativ way, while gamma waves and bineural beats are quite the opposite. I’m going to do a little research on these and I’ll keep you posted on how this works.
But that’s essentially why, if the weather turned from sun to thunderstorm in less than 10 hours, you’ll find I won’t answer the phone or the door. I’m literally deaf to the world around me, while I have my little music therapy sessions.
If you ever want to try this, please remember the following aspects I discovered:
First, there is a good chance you might get rid of your head-ache for a short period of time. But I now discovered that when I listen to this music without having a head-ache, my brain knows something’s amiss and I get a head-ache. It’s not as intense as migraine, but it’s close.
Second, don’t rely on it too much. I guess it’s like some sort of drug: you use it too often, you’ll show signs of deprivation. Use it only in extreme situations and when you really really really have to. I use it everytime I feel that my blood-pressure is too high. I can’t risk taking pain-killers then. That’s why I use it.
Last, but not least: eat something before you try this and don’t use this, when you are on any kind of numbing medication. You’ll get dizzy, feel sick and you might act like a monkey on drugs.
I just learned something fantastic: there will be a film about Freddie Mercury and it’s in the hands of Queen. Here’s the quote of Brian May, that has a few details about it:
Queen Plans – Brian May
Thanks to www.brianmay.com
“Ah … I promised news of yesterday’s Queen band meeting. Well, it was just Roger and Jim Beach and myself … we are a small cottage industry !! Our main agenda was the Freddie film … which, I’m happy to tell you, is on course. Much of our discussion was about contractual things … it’s pretty complex …. and determining who is responsible for what. The pieces are all falling into place, though we are now on a slightly later schedule – filming is now scheduled to start in the Spring, with Sacha Baron Cohen playing Freddie. The film should be ready for release early in 2014. We did make some other plans, but they will have to stay under wraps for now. Being in Queen is – bizarrely – as full of surprising twists and turns as ever – 40 years since we first got together, and 20 years after losing Freddie. But of course Freddie is in so many ways very much alive. He must be wryly smiling somewhere !!!”
Isn’t it wonderful? I thought so and then I started looking at the comments. All of them were very positive but one comment stuck with me.
Freddie is a memory and a legend, stop fucking tainting it! We dont need a film when footage exists of freddie himself
Why NOT making a movie? If it were made by any other team I’d understand the protest. But I never had the feeling that Queen ever did something unjust to Freddie’s memory.
He was an amazing person, or so I heard, because quite frankly? I haven’t been old enough to understand what’s going on, when he died. I remember my mum being in tears and even my dad was acting differently. That’s all I remember.
I have seen the footage, I have listened to the music endless hours but it’s not belonging to my generation. Why should only past generations have a link to him? They all feel so high and mighty, because they have something that we’ll never have! So, if I can’t share your memories, I’d love some of my own!
It’s like wearing hand me down’s an entire life and finally getting this awesome sweater you’ve listened others talking about for years. Yes, it’s not REALLY Freddie. But I’ll honor it just like I honor the musical (which I dig alot!). Because Freddie isn’t just a legend of the past – hell always be there. And if you don’t like the movie, stick with your memories.
But don’t stop the infection of the younger generations with the legend that is Freddie Mercury!
Usually, I’m obsessed with food. It’s no secret I enjoy cooking. But it’s the task I enjoy, not eating it. I never had to fight for food. My siblings are older by far and the closest to my age would be my nephews. By the time they started to eat solid food, I was old enough to put my foot down and take part of the whole cooking thing. My mum, coming from a large family, knows how to cook huge amounts of food. It’s cooking for three that really throws her. So, we always had more than enough food. My brother would take some home, my sister would take some for the kids’ lunch the following day. No big deal.
It goes without saying, that I haven’t been hungry. It’s one thing my family got right: eating, and making sure everybody gets their fill. I have mentioned before, that dinner was what held my family together. It’s what we always did best: enjoy our glorious food. Not so much for me, being a very picky eater. That’s something I learned to get rid off, when I moved out. Sometimes I can’t afford the food I’d like to eat. But really, it doesn’t always have to be Lasagna or filet with me. Soup or sprouts are fine, too. And the possibilities of meals are endless.
Just now something had me thinking. I haven’t been thinking about eating in a while and I blame it on my hormones. No, I’m not pregnant. It’s a whole other condition, called hypothyreosis. For information check HERE. I’ve been on medication for awhile now and during our move to the bigger flat, I’ve forgotten to get a new prescreption. I don’t know how that could have happened, because I’m reminded daily by my bag of pills (yes, it’s a bag by now with 5 different meds for high blood-pressure, painkillers in case of migraine, and some more stuff I won’t get started with today) that I have to open twice a day to take one medication or another. It’s a pain, but I learned to deal with it.
What I also had to deal with, when I started treatment, was the hunger. Suddenly, I was hungry again. Before I thought I was always hungry, but I was just never full. THIS hungry was something else altogether. Maybe you don’t understand this, but imagine this:
Your favorite color is blue. Then you are told the sky is blue and when you look up you’re confused. Because that’s not the same as your favorite color. See what I mean?
Now I don’t feel hungry (I don’t like blue) at all, and that is strange. Even though, my partner just left the apartment to hunt down meat – he somehow heard me talking about Lasagna and wants to treat me tonight – I can’t help but feel cross at the thought of food.
Tomorrow, I’ll get the new prescreption.
How did I even notice it after all? I read a post by a fellow blogger who wrote about the suffering of children that do not know how and when they’ll get their next meal. She works as a volunteer for a food bank. Check out the story she shared and read her post Hunger is Not a Game.
Thanks for reading!
I admit it:
I am a chicken!
No, I didn’t grow wings and feathers and yes, I did take my pills today. But did you ever had a day when you wish your attitude was more Kate Moss ‘I don’t give a damn about what you think of me!’ and less Paranoia Girl ‘Let’s just not do anything that makes other people take notice of you!’? Yeah, today is such a day. You see, I just can’t believe the opportunities I let slip by in my life. Some much bigger than others. And I just let another one slip by. Not only that, I even waved until I couldn’t see it anymore.
And I tried so hard this time!!
Well, here’s the case: I went grocery shopping today and on the way to the supermarket I came across a huge pile of junk. Chairs, half a couch, ugly cupboards and the perfect lampshade for a crafting project I’m just DYING to get my hands on! Guess what? I just walked by it. I was too scared to take it. I mean, it’s junk, right? It lay there, on the STREET for Pete’s sake…and I just continued on my way to get carrots and bread.
From the moment I saw it, I was thinking: ‘When you are done shopping, you HAVE to go back and take it home! You want the effing thing? Take it!’ If it was for a friend, I would have turned around and got it for her or him. THAT’s okay, somehow. But for myself? Naah. The police is across the street and it’s actually forbidden to ‘steal’ this junk.
It wasn’t even broken! I’m a nut-case, I know. Instead of writing this, I should put my Converse back on and get it. But I can’t. I’m a chicken. Meh.
There it is.
Just a little push for all the DIY-fans out there 🙂