Thin hair, don’t care!

Let me just start with a fact that contains no exaggeration whatsoever this time: I have been forgetting my hair for 2 or more years now. I just wash it twice a week, put in hair rollers in 2 strategic places and let it dry, then I simply make a ponytail and that was that. For years, as I said.

Were this a glossy mag or something, I could now continue by telling you about the miracles my hair has conjured up while being unobserved and seldom trimmed. Well, this being the Real Life: it didn’t. It just grew, all thin and curly as always, it fell out again, it has been turning grey and I do not intend to do anything about it and that’s all.

I still feel I should show some appreciation, since my hair has never been longer, so here’s a photo of it, still wet and while I am creating a fake length by leaning backwards – to introduce some much needed exaggeration here (Drama, baby, drama!):

The Times, They Aren’t a-Changin. Alas.

Sometimes I just do it: I assume all my troubles started in the Neolithic period.

You see, this was a time when people sat down and liked it. So they thought “Oh, I could get used to sitting here every day”, which is why they invented farming, domesticated animals and settled in permanent places. Jep, I blame it all on the Neolithic Revolution.

Life wasn’t a piece of cake back then, it is known. Apart from the troubles that simply went along and settled down, too, there were many new problems to deal with: diets with loads of unhealthy carbohydrates, increased body fat, rapid spreading of diseases … you know, the stuff our life is made of.

While your average scientist would probably hang me for simply stating this, as it is a highly controversial topic, I assume people in those Neolithic villages, towns and cities soon became very modern and started to have eyes only for their neighbors. And if those neighbors had a better hut, a sharper knife or a larger piss pot, they caused one to feel all kinds of strange and unpleasant feelings. In short, I am assuming here people soon concentrated on other people and nothing has been the same ever since. Nor better, if you ask me.

I could sit here writing for years to let you know what exactly makes me dislike the general fact that people tend to be only/mostly interested in their own status as compared to other people, but I just don’t care, do you?

Maybe a hint will do: when life on our planet requires us to concentrate on hard facts, we better do it, hard and fast and most of all, without checking our own status every second of it. This ability to deal with things other than Me and My Neighbors is something that one acquires during a process known as Growing up. Or should – this is what our planet is for.

The reason I am telling you about my Neolithic belief is this article about Brian Cox saying if Earth is lost, our galaxy would lose its meaning. Because my first reaction upon reading it was “Well, be better next time you coincidentally produce meaning, Galaxy. Make sure it does not litter you and spend its time navel-gazing.”

On time. In time. Timely.

Whatever the word, it is here again. Same procedure as every year.

My Jahresendmüdigkeit. That is: end-of-the-year-tiredness. It appears more or less in October and has run its course by January. Pity I cannot afford to leave it all and take a break right now.

I say this every year, too.

Of course I am old enough to resort to truthiness from time to time: “A house that needs renovation (aka a doer-upper) is actually perfect. In the end, we decide how it turns out and need not live only with other people’s decisions.” Yeah. True dat. It’s just … we both work a lot, have free time issues as a consequence and are not experienced “upper-doers”, only eager learners in general. So yes, it is a great feeling to put in a new floor by way of Youtube-schooling for the very first time, but there are many floors and many doors and many gates and rails and vital things here that need an overhaul and that great feeling of having done it soon gets replaced by the OK-next-dread. That and also: chemical burns on hands are actually bad for freelance translators.

(been here, done that and hurt myself with a stripping agent, because I can actually translate “use appropriate protective gloves” into a few languages but cannot actually do it when necessary)

So while I still really love the idea we get to create our own living space, I am also quite impatient to have it all done, sit down and read a book in a cozy, personal environment that does not need me that much anymore.

OK, so what’s next. The ugly stairs covered in Pukey I guess.

Zeugin zäher Zeiten

Da ich auf so ziemlich alles neugierig bin, schaue ich mir die Bilder an, eins nach dem anderen. Ich stelle fest, dass Angela Merkel in den 16 Jahren sowohl im Dienst als auch zu feierlichen Anlässen eigentlich immer dasselbe trug. Das kann ich verstehen: immer dieselbe äußere Form. Fast. Wirklich.

Bin zwar berühmt dafür, dass sich die lieben Umzugsmänner immer, aber wirklich jedes Mal über meine Klamotten- erm … -berge echauffieren, aber im Grunde genommen sehne ich mich nur nach ein paar wenigen Sachen: fließendes schwarzes Kleid, blaue Jeans, weißes Shirt und Karorock oder auch -kleid. Sneaker. Alle anderen Kleidungsstücke, die ich mein (und mein und mein und mein …) nennen darf, kann ich mir gar nicht erklären. Außer dass mir mein Verantwortungsbewusstsein verbietet, passable Kleidung wegzuwerfen. Und natürlich, weil es schon noch Spaß machen könnte, mal was anderes zu tragen.

Da also auch nach dem Umzug alle meine Schränke voll sind, muss ich auf ein paar Tricks zurückgreifen, um mir überhaupt noch neue Stofflieblinge anschaffen zu können, und zwar nachdem ich schon meinen größten Schatz überzeugt habe, dass er weniger Schrankvolumen als ich braucht (kennt ja jeder: Mann, Frau, Schrank).
Es hat sich inzwischen herausgestellt, dass gebrauchte Kleidung für gebrauchte Kleidung tauschen tatsächlich unglaublichen Spaß macht. So komme ich an einige wertvolle Stoffjuwele, bei denen ich früher die Ausgabe gescheut habe, weil ich ja “nur zu Hause arbeite und die teuren Sachen nur im Schrank hängen würden” (wobei man das kaum noch “hängen” nennen konnte – ein passenderer Ausdruck, den ich hiermit der Welt zur freien Verfügung anbieten kann, wäre “sardinieren”).
Heutzutage tun in meinen Schränken tatsächlich hochwertigere Sachen tatsächlich hängen und eine Ausrede für diese Pracht habe ich auch schon parat: Bald gibt es in Norddeutschland ein kulturelles Leben zu entdecken und zu feiern und da brauche ich dann hoffentlich auch all die wunderbaren Wollblazer, die mich in den letzten zwei Jahren gefunden haben und wohl zu meiner Lieblingsgrundausstattung gehören (werden). Erst jetzt bin ich so weit, eine Blazerfrau zu werden, ja.

Wry Wednesday Moosings

Yes, I am an old person: I roll my eyes and shake my head and curl my lips sarcastically on the inside (don’t ask) at some behaviors. I very well earned the right to do so. So did you, I guess.

Most often, a version of “Damn it all, alcessa, why are you such a…person? It isn’t as though you could afford to be” (Hilary Mantel, modified) is thrown at my head and I always have to stifle the urge to shake it. The head. You see, everyone’s a person. We are all made of genetic, learned and … I don’t know: ignored, well-loved, diligently acquired … behavior modules and I assume every one of us is simply made of a different combination of these.

Of course, all those people shaking their heads at a certain kind of person simply want other people to be more like them, summertime, and living is easy, and so on. Sometimes I wonder whether they would really like their true copies in their vicinity. Maybe that would be a good lesson?

Anyway, this is such a boring shit. Pretending everyone else’s guilt for one’s own Angst.

That’s A Lot of Poison.

It would seem my plant stocktaking has been successful so far: I now happen to know most of the plants growing around our house and have even written them down, just in time (for cutting and fertilizing, of course).

What I also know now, since plants do not enjoy any data protection and can be wikipediaed, are their official names, their parents and their most important traits. While some of them could be admired as divas (can’t call plants pretentious, sorry), they are also all of them sturdy, self-sufficient, no-nonsense all-rounders, if a bit retro (can’t call plants outdated, either).

What many of them also are, is poisonous as heck. This happens to surprise me. There must have been a time when rhododendron, cherry laurel, lily of the valley or blue cypress were required in any respectable German garden, because they are still so ubiquitous – but had anyone ever told the happy gardeners they were purchasing pure poison?

While we would love to own only plants useful to birds and insects, we do not plan to throw away the plants we got, so I will take care to bring our rhododendra to bloom even though my appreciation for the white and pink flowers is terribly mellow. I do hope plants can’t read me and will simply do their thing.

Hairy Tales

“Obviously, I quite envy you,” I decide to be honest. “I wish I had hair like that.”

As my husband doesn’t know what to do with this bit of honesty, I don’t elaborate. I also cannot help him: while I have cut my hair for most of my life, I have never done short hair and would not want to start learning now, just in case.

“Maybe George Clooney can help? Surely he’s not selling coffee right now?”

Früh sorgt sich.

Aha. Korkenzieherhaselnuss. Kartoffelrose. Alpenrose. Lebensbaumhecke. Harlekinweide. Schilfrohr. Bienenweide.

Was haben wir getan?
Ich meine: Wie soll das alles überleben, wenn ich noch nie einen Garten hatte?

Als erstes mache ich das, was ich immer mache: im Internet suchen.
Als nächstes folgen die Notizen.

Und die Pflanzen, die sich nicht an meine Notizen halten, werden durch bravere ersetzt.

So einfach ist das natürlich nicht.

Aber ich lerne gern.

Und wir haben erst Januar.

Nekoč, nekje

Sobotna ljubljanska jutra so bila pretežavna za kar koli drugega, zato sem še dopoldne pogosto odpešačila na železniško postajo.

Med potjo se nisem mogla izogniti razmišljanju o preteklem garaškem tednu, analiza, sinteza, projekcija, okej. Bo. Dobra stran garanja za plačevanje najemnine mladi pianistki, ki v Ameriki pazi otroke, da si lahko s fulbrajtom privošči študij, je vsesplošna življenjska amnezija. Čez teden moram drugim poklicno pripovedovati veliko tega in mi ni treba razmišljati še o sebi. Kaj šele o tem, da predavateljstvo tudi ni ta pravi poklic zame. Kaj pa naj bi? Najemnina, diplomiranka, lajf. Pika.

Na srečo mojih cajtngov drugi obiskovalci ljubljanske železniške postaje niso preveč cenili. Izbiro med Süddeutsche, Frankfurter Allgemeine in Zeit sem opravila kar na licu mesta; odvisno od privlačnosti člankov na prvi strani.

Oh, ti časi! Ko sem še verjela, da obstaja Nekje, kjer so se judje sposobni izraziti o čisto vsem, analitično, strastno, osebno, neosebno, v dolgih besedah in z vso potrebno kompleksnostjo. Mene so bili v nasprotju z vsem tem krasnim novim svetom naštrikali povsem preprosto, zato med drugim tudi takšnih fines kot “levi in desni cajtngi” takrat nisem obvladala, sploh. Glavno, da vsebujejo dolge besede in še daljše članke.

A ti to bereš?
Je zanimalo francoskega soseda v moji novi nemški vasi, ki je z okom petelinjim zagledal Spiegel v moji roki. Seveda, se mi hoče biti navdušena, veliko zanimivih člankov vsebuje, na žalost imam zaradi preveč dela časa samo za en sam cajtng, ma paše, pa četudi pred spanjem.

Mu oklevajoče odvrnem.
Ne morem si privoščiti iskrenega odgovora, na podeželju je po vseh izkušnjah sodeč bolje biti previden tudi glede branja in ljudi ohranjati neobveščeno prijazne.

Karlsruhe Europaplatz

Na poti me sreča kamelji prst, oblečen v pepermintno zeleno. Vseeno sem olajšana: kakor koli že zgleda, prisotnost mladine je pomirjujoča. Življenje – ne: utapljanje v kritični masi starcev ne bo kos pogače, tudi če smo bodoči starci trenutno še moderne osebe srednjih let. Za razliko od plemenite konzervativnosti prehuda okostenelost duha pač dolgočasi in po nepotrebnem utruja. Ni mi do tega.

Zaenkrat pa vsi skupaj, staro in mlado, sedimo na vlaku, z zabasanimi ušesi. Ne vem, zakaj ima moj ajPod tako rad Leonarda, najbrž sem dobila izdelek s posebej melanholičnim slučajnostnim algoritmom, na srečo je Cohen tudi meni pri srcu. Na srečo imam rada tudi Adele, čeprav je moja glasbena škatlica ne zna nehati igrati, takoj po prvi pesmi. Na srečo me velikokrat tudi preseneti.

Wo ist dein Schuh? Du hast ihn verloren … Als ich dir den Weg zeigen musste. Wer hat verloren?

Utrujena. Premalo spanja.

Skrbi me. Študij sem vpisala iz povsem logičnih razlogov, sedaj pa mi gre na živce, da imam premalo časa zanj. Kot vedno bi veliko raje študirala kot delala. Take mam že od
Vseeno nisem čisto prepričana, da me privlači samo študij – morebiti svoj čisto poseben čar nad mano izživlja tudi navidezna moč, ki jo oddajajo zakoniki? Brskanje po njih? Vse večje poznavanje pravil? Zakaj ljudje študirajo pravo – zaradi denarja ali subjektivnega prirasta moči? Oboje najbrž.

Ko tako berem kvazi informativna besedila na spletnih straneh odvetniških družb, ki razkrivajo, katere predpise po novem kršimo in pred katerimi posledicami se lahko z njihovo pomočjo hitro rešimo – mar je reklama na osnovi strahu pri tako (pozor: ironija) plemenitem poklicu primerna? Mar ne bi bilo nujno, da vsi skupaj takoj začnemo ravnati, kot da se požvižgamo na juristične vladarje v ozadju? No, ne čisto. Pravzaprav: seveda ne. Ampak vprašam pa se lahko. Vprašanja so koristna stvar. Si upam pojesti breskev?

Ja, veselim se svojega seminarja: tri in pol ure minejo kot v hipu. Mogoče se bom kdaj sprijaznila tudi z dejstvom, da bo moj uspeh na izpitih zaradi pomanjkanja časa vedno pod velikim vprašajem, veliko večjim kot kdaj koli prej. Glavno, da se kaj naučim, vse ostalo je daleč preveč dolgočasno.

Na primer Karlsruhe: živ dolgčas. Postajališče Europaplatz je pri nakupovalnem središču, kamor po novem hodijo najstniki z vseh vetrov, da si v znanem irskem šopu napolnijo ogromne nakupovalne vreče za malo keša. Na drugi strani? Ravno tako trgovine. Tudi na tretji in četrti strani trga isto. Ja no. Kaj pa bi rada?

Želite kartico zvestobe? Blagajničarka se mi avtomatsko simpatično nasmehne, ko kartico odklonim. Kdaj sem bila nazadnje v knjigarni? Hmmm … Če ne bi Civilnega zakonika pozabila doma, me tudi danes ne bi videli, pa ga rabim na seminarju. Za brskanje in odgovarjanje na vprašanja. Zdaj si že upam. Na začetku študija sem se vsakokrat tudi malce prestrašila, ker s svojim naglasom privlačim več pozornosti, kot bi mi bilo pri srcu. Tudi če so moji stavki pravilni. Nič več strahu. Tudi govorci z napačnim naglasom imamo svoje pravice. In vprašanja.

BGB pospravim in si grem pogledat modrce v ha und em. Lepi so, res.

Malce pred deseto polna jurističnega znanja spet stojim na postaji in opazujem mladino. Kul klobuk, krasen pirsing, množica zanimivih rukzakov in čudovitih čevljev. Fajn. Seveda imamo tudi tokrat skoraj vsi zaštopana ušesa. Ob tej uri tudi velja povečana nevarnost ropa: predvsem mobilci so zaželeni. Hm, bi tudi meni tatovi vrnili moj handy, ko bi ugotovili, da gre za neuporabno, desetletje staro nokijo?

Zaspana sem.

3_gernsbach duda