goodbye

In 24 hours, I will be on a plane, high above the Atlantic, zooming along the curve of the earth toward my new home.
For some reason, this isn't really hitting me as hard as I thought it would. Maybe I'm still in shock. Maybe this will all hit me on the plane.
I thought I would be bursting with insightful words and thoughts about my last night in America, but I'm just incredibly tired. Putting my feelings into words, at this point, wouldn't really achieve anything. And anyway, I don't want to try and recapture it. I just want to let it be. These feelings are good.
Today was spent running amok arranging things before I leave. I spent way more money than I should have, but eh, it'll end up ok. I hope I can get a job over there quickly, but only after I figure out my way around the city. Finally, after Best Buy did nothing in time, Mom, Earl and I had to go in tonight and pick out a brand new one. I am now the proud owner of a glistening Toshiba laptop, with duel processors and a 15.4" screen. This is not your basic cheap computer. Oh no. She's a beauty, and I intend to treat her far, far better than anyone expects of me.
Before we went along our way, Mom hunted down the GM of Best Buy and gave him a speech about how she's buying this laptop in good faith that the company will reimburse her for part of it, as they did take my laptop hostage for 3 months. Go Mom. You scare those computer geeks.
But now, I am relieved. Hallelujah.
Last night I went over to eat with the Grandparents, and I brought Craig with me. We had a wonderful meal out on the porch and Craig and I went for a post-dinner canoe ride. It was so peaceful and relaxed with the sun setting...mmm.
Craig and I cuddled all night on the couch, til I kicked him out because he had to work at 5:30 this morning. I am going to miss him a lot, but the time will fly by. All too soon, I'll be sappy about leaving Freiburg. Ah. I'm sure I'll be a mess.
After going to Best Buy, we went out to dinner at J. Alexanders, per my request. I had Norwegian salmon, smashed potatoes and about 60 Cokes.
I really got spoiled today. Sheesh.
Then we stopped by my dad's to say goodbye to my step-mom, Karyn.
(Did I mention that her name is spelled Karyn? Gee. That's a great name. Karyn. Lovely name.)
I'll see Jimmy and Dad tomorrow, but I had to get some step-mommy hugs before taking off. Jimmy was running around in his football pads. Apparently, I know nothing about tackling people. I figure this is a good thing.
All these goodbyes are depressing me. Bah.
Now, I am desperately trying to make the 2 suitcase idea work. I think I can manage it, with some strategic packing.
Alright, I think I've run out of things to say. Maybe I'll go get some sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be one hell of a day.
Next entry from the Vaterland.

delicious

Today, while sprawled out in the Literature section of Borders, I realized some things about writers. Most everyone, at least in Western society, has the opportunity to write. If one is fortunate enough to be literate and has access to a pen and paper, then they're also able to give their thoughts and ideas a physical form. Billions of humans have walked this earth, and continue to every day, but so few have taken advantage of language. Granted, I believe people are born writers and cannot easily become them. Passion is the most important ingredient, in my opinion, and you can't very well wake up one day saying "Gee! I'm passionate!". But why then, are so few people given that intense yearning to communicate? I have such a great respect for words. They have outlasted most everything else having to do with humanity. But the value of language is declining rapidly, and computers are only speeding up the process. Older literature and newspapers show us what a common vocabulary used to be, and what have we got now? Sludge. Upper-level grammar isn't even taught anymore.
So, in addition to thinking about how few people even care enough to pay attention to the English language anymore, I also thought about how pretentious this also makes writers. I would be interested to see how much writing is kept private compared to how much is meant to be read by others. Perhaps someday I'll have tea with God and get to ask her, but until then, I'll just have to wonder. Private writing is by far one of the best things a person can do for themself. I am a firm believer in keeping a journal, and have been since I was old enough to know what a journal was. Being able to vent out your thoughts to a captive page is the best therapy available, and it's much cheaper. And of course, going back and reading previous entries gives you something that actually helps prove how much you've grown. But keeping a journal doesn't make someone terribly pretentious. It's the writing for another audience that does. Given the fact that we are all able to write, why do some feel that their words are important enough to seen and studied by others? All forms of writing contain bias, whether they be legal briefs or romance novels. It's impossible to separate the author from the work, or vice versa. And given this, writing is a scary business. It's letting others a bit into your own head, which is a bit conceited because it's assuming others care enough to see, but it also sets you up for criticism.
I realized, while sitting there in a pile of words, that I may be part of a dying breed. Writers are rare enough, but their art is quickly being taken over by technology. Several times people have suggested that I keep my journals on the computer and keep them password protected. The thought horrifies me. Words are at their best when they are given weight, facing you from a page. Seeing the innermost workings of my mind looking at me from an alien computer screen would be horrid.
I hope people continue to write by hand for centuries. It's one of the most amazing gifts we, as humans, have been given. And even though it is pretentious, it is necessary. Without collections of words, how would we get our history? Mankind wouldn't do very well without a past.

Anyway, those were just a few thoughts I had while making my last trip to my very favorite American store. I picked up The Book of Salt, The World According to Garp, Cat's Cradle, and Frannie and Zooey. Books are probably the most impractical thing to take to Europe with me, but they're also the most necessary. Those'll last me about a month, and then I'll be on amazon.de. There is an entire section for English Books. Oh hallelujah.
Today was a nice day to myself. I ran errands and sped around town in the Mariner. My mom called me to tell me Warren Jeffs, a Mormon Fundamentalist leader, finally got caught by the cops. He's been on the FBI's Top 10 for awhile for marrying off underage girls to old men. Oh, those crazy Mormons. I am hooked. I want to visit him in jail.
Anyway, my adventures included the bank, Target, Running Fit, Borders, and finally the hair salon. I cut off a bit of my hair so as to make it look less mullet-ish. I told her I want to grow it out, so she just layered and tossed and did a lot of stuff I didn't understand. Whatever. It looks good.
I also managed to drop my phone in the toilet at Target. Don't ask me how I did it. I couldn't tell you. But it was for sure a Becca thing to do. Now, only the 1 key will work.
Electronics hate me, I tell you. Thankfully, I have 3 days left in this country, and I get a brand new one over in Germany. That one will never go near a toilet.
Liquids and all of my electronics shall never meet, I say!
Ok I am meeting Amanda tomorrow in Ann Arbor at my very favorite restaurant, Sadako. I will order the U of M roll and the Philadelphia roll, and I will officially say goodbye to Ann Arbor. I will go out with a bang, which means raw fish and sorority girls. Afterward, Craig, Mom and I are eating dinner with my grandparents. I asked Grandma for Hawaiian chicken, which is AMAZING. I had to use caps. It's that delicious. Tomorrow is going to be a delicious day.
Speaking of delicious, yesterday I want to Daddy's for dinner. First, Jimmy and I lay around on the couch for awhile, lamenting our boredome. He's beginning football soon. So, my father has one daughter moving to Germany, another on the verge of mental collapse and a son about to start the most dangerous sport ever. He's kind of on edge. I don't blame him. Laura's off melting down every 5 seconds and Jimmy's probably going to run smack into the goalpost.
I made cupcakes, which was impulsive, but amazing. Karen came home to the smell of onions sauteeing and cupcakes in the oven. Olfactory overload.
(Wow I can't believe I just actually made that sentence)
Craig also joined us for amazing and healthy chili. I don't know how he does it, but my father is a Wizard of Healthfood. Afterward, we all enjoyed my funfetti cupcakes (not so healthy) and an intense game of Clue. I won, only after Jimmy and Craig guessed incorrectly. So, basically I only won because they were overeager. Boys...
I'm really gonna need to learn to cook. Yikes.
Ok I had best get to bed. Tomorrow will include a lot of driving and goodbyes.

Notausgang

Great. I'm moving out of the country on Friday, and my sister just informed me that she's holding my passport hostage. I am never going to get the $6 she owes me.
To provide a visual, I am holed up in my basement in wrinkled clothes. My hair is askew, none of my clothes really match, and I'm listening to Abba. I want today to end.
Last night I had horrible dreams about alien attacks. These aliens actually looked like a pomegranates cut in half with legs, and they were telepathic and mean. I woke up around 11, sprawled out on the couch with my mom, talked online with various Freiburgers about packing, didn't really move until 5:30 when I realized that maybe I still could make something of the day. I didn't really want to have anything to do with anyone today, which I see as an unhealthy side-effect of my suddenly becoming introverted this summer.
Ignoring humanity pissed my dad off, which just made things worse. Eventually the day was saved by a trip up to East Lansing to drop off my sister. We all went out to eat at some Meditteranean place and then my mom and I sang Billy Joel the whole way home.

I'm conflicted. I want to live up this week and cherish every moment, but at the same time I just want so badly to get out of here and get this move over with. I know so little about what life will be like over there next year. Such things like my dorm, my classes, and my roommates are all still a mystery to me. I knew all of those things going into U of M. I'm just incredibly frustrated, I guess. I know so little and I can only do so much to prepare.
I'm most worried about missing my family. Everything else is more or less taken care of, but how do you prepare to not see your mother for 7 months? It makes my head spin.

My going away party was on Saturday, which was very generously thrown by my mom and Earl, her boyfriend. We bought a bunch of bratwurst and German chocolate cakes and played German beer hall music. My grandpa translated: Beer here! Beer here! Or I'll fall over!
...um
It also gave my mother an opportunity to actually learn the colors of the German flag. Originally, we were going to have just orange, yellow and black balloons. Red was ordered at the last second. I was appalled and am now concerned that they won't even let her in the country to visit me.
Lots of friends and family members came, which made me feel very loved. My sister, Molly, and Brian each paid $100 to fly out one of my best friends, Nate, from Massachusetts for the affair. This was originally meant to be a surprise, but I ruined it for myself.
OH WELL. Doesn't mean it was worth less. Still one of my best presents I've ever gotten. Nate and I got to cuddle all night, play Clue, and talk about life. Laura and Allison sang a duet from Marriage of Figaro. Nate sang the fight song for Worchester Polytechnic Institute. The Pipers did "Java Jive". My grandpa kept running around saying random things in German.
I love our parties. They are so classic.

Last night also made me realize that my true friends I can count on one hand. And by true friends I mean the people who can predict me, value me and really love me for all of my flaws.
I am going to miss you crazy, crazy people.
Tonight while helping move my sister in, I took one of the boxes, put it over my head, and started walking around like a robot. I don't think Germany knows what's on the way. Seeing as they don't believe in laughter or fun or loud things, I'm kind of screwed.
I also recently read that GARBAGE DISPOSALS ARE ILLEGAL. WHAT IS THAT????
This morning I also decided to start working on my coffee addiction. I'm not touching cigarettes ever, so I need one addiction to fit in.
Oh, and I also conveniently gave Stephanie the wrong directions to get to my party. She called me when she was about 45 minutes out of her way. So, now I've pissed off the girl I'm flying with, and she'll probably ditch me in London. I'll end up on a flight to Thailand all because I don't know west from east, apparently. Eventually she got here, but I felt horrible.
Maybe I should have kept that cardboard box over my head...
I had best go end this day with some Kerouac and decaf tea. Happier entries are on the way, once I get myself out of limbo.

material things

I am determined not to let Best Buy ruin my last few days here.
Laura and I drove out to Ann Arbor yesterday to pick up my computer, which, after 6 weeks, was supposedly all fixed and practically brand new. Bring it home and I put in a CD to play it. The computer doesn't read the CD...at all...which was the original problem all along
Basically, they are idiots. So, last night, after many tears and angry words, my father and I went in to the Best Buy here to make it clear how dire the situation is. After talking to about 30 different managers, they told us that if something needs to be shipped out a 4th time, then we're entitled to a new computer. SO they're shipping it out, seeing that it is in fact STILL broken, and we get to go in next week and I get a brand new computer, all because they were too negligent to fix a simple DVD drive.
All I'm saying is they better stick to their word. I need a computer in Germany and I need one that I can trust. I also need my music on it. I did not buy a brand new Ipod just to look at it.
No more shopping at Best Buy. They have lost my trust.

Home is stressing me out, mostly because of this computer fiasco, but also because my room looks like a bomb went off in it. I have a pile for things to give away, things to leave home, things to maybe take, things to definitely take, etc. I haven't even touched a suitcase yet. Skit also keeps conveniently falling asleep in piles of my stuff.
Skittles Edmund is my crazy cat. When he was young and agile he used to love climbing up to tall places, where he'd often get stuck. So I named him after Sir Edmund Hilary, the first man to climb Everest. Since then, he's given up on climbing and instead likes to sleep. Skittles, I'll admit, is a horrible name for a 21 pound tomcat, but he has grown into his name nicely. He's scared of everything and is immensely overweight, but that just means there's more of him to love. He loves classical music and shoes, so we're all convinced he's secretly gay. He also enjoys laying in sunshine, chasing after imaginary things, and getting brushed.
His sister, Cleo, belongs to Laura, meine Schwester. Even though unusually intelligent, Cleo hates everyone. Occasionally she'll be cuddly and loving, but only for our family. Any outsiders risk losing limbs when they step into our house. When not feasting on small children, Cleo loves watching the chipmunks, growling, and eating people food. She loves sweet things especially, like the brownies I made the other night. As my mom says, she has a "sweet-fang". She also will meow at the bathtub tap for a trickle of water, which is known as "watering Cleo".
Those are my cats. They are spoiled little brats, but we've made them that way. I'm going to miss them bunches.
Talking about my cats just cheered me up immensely.

Earlier, I went through all my old pictures. These babies dated back to 7th grade and were all jumbled up in a big pile. I must have had hundreds from summer camp, choir trips, and various musicals I did in high school. I kept about 20 of them and tossed the rest. It was hard letting go of all of that, but I've got so much crap. Last night I also went through my entire wardrobe and filled up three big boxes with clothes to get rid of, most of them name brand frilly junk. I also went to Old Navy and bought a bunch of layering tees, which will be good for traveling.
Now I just want to put on all my hiking gear and go run around the neighborhood for kicks.

Next week will include major family bonding time, a haircut, and all things American. Wahoo.
My mind is on overdrive, like my senses are trying to memorize everything so I don't forget it all over 11 months. The way Ann Arbor looks when the sun sets, my sister's laugh, how my father smells, how it feels to cuddle Skit, what it's like to wake up to my mother playing the piano...
It's a lot to take in, but it just makes me realize all the small things I've got to appreciate.

Time to go to Costco avec ma mere.

becoming introverted

I officially moved out of Ann Arbor today, which made my heart ache. Empty houses depress me so. I walk around them, a thousand memories rush in, and I get so depressed realizing I will never be able to recreate that equation again. Too many factors are involved. Time catches you off guard and then you're entirely unable to see a person on the same level you once used to. But it's obviously useless trying to hold on to something that's time has passed. I enjoyed my time with Julia and Sarah immensely, but I doubt we will ever be as close as we were these past 3 months. I'm horrible at goodbyes.
This summer I thought a lot about why college kids are starting to annoy me so much. Most of my theories were horribly depressing and probably wrong, but then again I am a student of Philosophy, which is the study of theories that have been disproved. Anyhow...
I feel like in many ways college is like running away from the real world, and you only accelerate as you go. Yes, you do only have 4 short years before you're out in that terrifying "real world", but what is so horrible about supporting yourself and not getting hammered every night? I honestly believe that by paying for my own education I will eventually take more from it. Now, that very well could only be because I didn't have the option, but I'll take what I've been given. This summer my parents gave me the choice. I could come home and live here for free, or I could stay in AA if I paid my way. Maybe my choice wasn't the most economically advantageous, but I feel like overall it was the better way to go. Taking care of myself gives me such a good, honest high. I plan on enjoying my college years, and then enjoying my job once I get it. I will appreciate the moment I am in.
This summer I watched my co-workers work, bring home good money, and then go blow it all at the bar. Repeat. Now, I enjoyed the people I worked with, and I made many good friends, but I just don't understand that. Sure, going out once in awhile is fun, but why is it necessary to go out every night and get hammered? That was also the #1 reason people told me to stay in Ann Arbor over the summer. "Yea dude! You can get plastered every night!"
Um...I'll pass. I'll work and save so I can travel around Europe, while you frequent the same dirty bar every weekend.
Also, the older you get, the drinking increases, until suddenly you're graduating. And then you become horribly depressed because you can't bar hop every night. And then you're stuck in the real world, which is usually very sober. Aw shucks.
It just seems like such a vicious cycle. I'm not gonna say I'm completely done with "college rituals", but this summer kind of opened my eyes. It's easy to get sucked in.
NO MORE PEER PRESSURE.

Ok, and now we continue on to the more lighthearted half of this crazy entry.
Today was my last day of work, which meant closing a manic lunch shift. I actually let my last table know that they were my last table of the summer. A woman and her teenage daughter humored me and asked all about Freiburg. I filled Diet Cokes and obliged happily. I'll miss random conversations with strangers.
I left with $90 and a free lunch for my last day. I really do enjoy that job, and it was a lucky one to come by. Hopefully it'll still be waiting for me when I return.
After work Craig and I went over to my house to clear out my fridge and leave my key. Yesterday the whole family came to load out all of my crap and I stayed to work my final shifts. Craig and I drove out of North Campus, away from the setting sun and blasting Radiohead's "Optimistic".
Perfect.
Now I am safely home. The garage is littered with everything I own, my cat is making me sneeze, and my mother is already pestering me to remember to turn off the basement lights. My sister's best friend also commented on how the last 4 times she's seen me, I've been wearing the same jean skirt.
I already know I'll be wearing it for the 5th time she sees me.
I basically have a week to prepare myself for this gigantic escapade. Most of this preparation is emotional, but fitting my life into 2 suitcases and a backpack will be interesting.
It's funny thinking about how having more things at this point, is bad. It's like the perfect antidote to materialism. Moving to Europe is going to do wonders for me. I can feel it.

Jetzt gehe ich ins Bett.

perchance to dream

Here I am again, mooching off the university computers. I stopped by to see my friend Henry, one of the computer consultants in here. He spends most of his time telling people how to print double sided and pointing them toward the stapler. Ah. My peers are so bright.
My own computer, hopefully, will be back to me by Monday. The Best Buy Team of Deception tells us that they had to keep repairing things because there was "water damage". Psha! False!
Whatever. If they give me back a computer and there is a working CD player, I will sing praises and stop whining. I am sure they, too, will be glad to be rid of this. The British Airways website also now says that laptops and small electronics are allowed on flights. All is well with the universe again.
These past few days have been stressful. In retrospect, it was mostly unnecessary, but not much can be done about it now. On Tuesday one of my first tables walked out without paying their $40 bill. There was a mix-up and I sincerely doubt it was done on purpose, but it did enough to put me in a foul mood. About an hour after that, I sent a big tray of 3 entree salads flying across the restaurant. Oh, I didn't simply drop them. I'm pretty sure I would up and catapulted them. I don't even know how that was possible, but I was suddenly in a pile of lettuce with tears forming in my eyes. After that I melted down a bit over in the sidestands, which was for a lot of reasons. Even I wouldn't cry over spilled lettuce. My coworkers comforted me, and my boss assured me that I was still one of his favorites, even though I'm so clumsy. My tables were also understanding and patient. The rest of the night wasn't as eventful, thankfully, and eventually I only had to pay for half of that bill.
After walking home from work, I had a turbulent conversation with my dad, which led to more tears. I was filled with tears that night, I think.
I realize that my parents are stressed out about me putting an ocean between us, but I'm kind of in a bind. If I kick and scream and talk about how I'm scared , my parents will only worry that I'm not mature enough to handle this move. But if I'm strong and ready to get the hell out of here, I'm afraid they'll take it personally. I told my dad about how I'm planning to stay in Europe for Christmas, which I guess he didn't know about. I've got two sets of parents struggling to find the money to visit me next year, so why would I come home for Christmas, where I can be jet-lagged and only get to stick around for 2 weeks? Obviously 4 months from now I will be dying to come home, especially during Christmastime. But how often do parents get to travel over to Europe and see their children living and thriving there? (Well, I'm assuming I'll thrive) I want to share that with them, rather than eating up all that money to come home and pass out face-first on the couch for a week. And I know they'd love to come and tromp around a bit with me. I realize they're going to miss me, and that is of course a good thing.
Obviously, I'm most worried about missing my immediate family, but this is just something I need to do. I need to break myself off and force myself to figure life out on my own. Throughout the years, I have been very thankful for my parents' help, but all too soon I'm going to be out there on my own. I don't want to completely crash and burn once they're not around to pull me out of the messes I make. This program feels like a good halfway. So many things are already organized for me, but I do have a lot more independence than I would in Ann Arbor. I am apprehensive, but in a healthy way. I am not ungrateful for the millions of things my parents have sacrificed for me. Instead, I would hope they look at this as my attempt to show them how well they have taught me to manage myself.
And, anyway, if they weren't worried about me, I would be concerned. I'm not one to put my parents at ease. I can't have it both ways.

Lately I've been having nightmares. Most of them involve me lost and alone in some European city, without an money or anywhere to go. Others involve similar themes, such as loss of control or intense feelings of helplessness. All of this somehow relates back to Freiburg. There's so much I can't do here to prepare, but once I get there I fear I'll remember a thousand things I should have done.
Sleep is supposed to be my one safe haven from stress. How dare you thoughts plague me so!

Alright I suppose I have ranted on enough. My list of Freiburg Prep continues to expand by the minute, and I'm hungry.

jumping jacks over the Atlantic

For some sub-conscious reason, I am running around "setting my affairs in order" before I leave. I feel like I have some terminal disease and need to clear things up before I'm off. Also, there seems to be a neverending amount of things to do, but instead of being productive, I simply get overwhelmed and decide to do nothing but sit on my couch and watch old episodes of Entourage and eat melon pops.
All I've done all summer is work. Now, I don't mind work, and I've felt better about this summer because I'm paying for the roof over my head, gas for my car, books about Mormons and I've been able to satisfy my raging sushi addiction. But I'm one of those crazy people that actually likes learning new things. If I could, I'd be in school forever, getting every Liberal Arts degree possible. I think overall I will feel better, and be more sane, when I'm taking classes and writing papers.
But this year, those papers get to be 30 pages long and in German. Ok I'm not going to think about that yet.
The above comment about Mormons refers to my fascination with them this summer. I've read several very informative books and watched Season 1 of Big Love in a fury. Mormon Fundamentalists are my favorite. They are amazing and horrifying. If any MF are reading this, I don't mean to offend you. But chances are you aren't allowed to touch a "COMPUTER OF SATAN" and you're off busy trying to manage your 7 wives.

The other night I went out and got sushi with my old boyfriend, David, whom I dated when I was in high school. I wish I had something profound and deeply insightful to say about that, but it was a fairly straight-forward date. He's still as perfect as he ever was, and I'm still not attracted to that for some reason. Lately he's been going through a "Why am I here?" phase, which I think is a trend in your early 20's. I'm looking forward to my time searching for God. Oy.
We ate at Sadako, got Stuccis, and then traipsed around campus for a bit. I gave him the tour and got a kick out of watching him react to all the Ann Arbor characters that were running amok on a Saturday night. None of them phase me anymore, so it's funny watching a normal reaction.
"Why is that guy riding around on his bike with an orange cone on his head?"
"What? Oh...I didn't even notice"
I told him that if he really wants to find God, he should sell his BMW 330 and donate all of that to starving children in Africa.
It was good to see him. I wish he still didn't have feelings for me. And I wish I hadn't left my Philadelphia rolls in his trunk.
Dinner #2 down. Now I need to find a new victim...

Stephanie is IMing me, telling me that as of right now, all flights out of London are only allowed a clear plastic bag containing nothing electronic. And seeing as our connecting flights don't leave us enough time to check luggage once we're at Heathrow...I DON'T GET MY IPOD WITH ME FOR 20 HOURS OR SO OF TRAVELING.
This is very bad. I'm already worried about getting claustrophobic, but you can always heal that with a few jumping-jacks over by the bathrooms. Now I have to worry about terrorists, I don't get an Ipod or a water bottle, and now I have to find the perfect book to satisfy me for an entire day. Usually I'm reading about 8 books at once and I work through them depending on my mood swings. This will be horribly limiting and headache inducing.
Maybe I'll just bring Ulysses and sleeping pills and knock myself out.

And now, I am going to go vent to my innocent boyfriend about airport security and my lack of computer.

the dangers of Gatorade

At times, I am so ready to just get the hell out of here.
Last night was not one of them.
A few days ago Julia (one of my roommates) told me she was planning to have people from her work come over. Julia, Sarah and I are all slaves to the restaurant industry, so living with each other works out well because we can all complain to each other. I also have a weak spot for stealing Sarah's clothes, but she ate all my peanut butter, so I don't feel too bad.
Anyway, I'm always one to partake in a party. So I did my best to help Julia out, called up a few people, did some requisite freaking out, and fell down in the shower. At our last "get-together" my phone got stolen, which ended in a lot of tears. Why would anyone want to steal one of my electronics? They are cursed. The cops eventually found it in a car they impounded, so that was a lucky break. It's also kind of refreshing to be out of contact with the world, but given the way people my age do things, tres difficile. Needless to say, last night I was watching my things like a hawk.
I spent the majority of the night with Molly, Seth, and Craig. To clarify...
Molly- Best friend from high school who now goes to Michigan State.
Seth- Former crush from high school, now is just a really good friend.
Craig - Boyfriend
We hung out on the porch, made fun of each other, and ate ridiculous amounts of my chips and Goldfish. It was a nice, laid-back summer night with some of my favorite people, which I found blissful. Michael Jackson "The Way You Make Me Feel" came on at one point, too. I don't care how creepy that man is. He can add to any social gathering. Watching Seth dance may have made the night for me. Or Bill Withers "Use Me" being played on repeat.
I guess it just alerted me more to the fact that, yes, I am leaving something good. Not necessarily for something better, either, but something different. Maybe that's what a lot of people don't understand. If you find something good, why leave it?
I guess it's just because I've been blessed enough to have options.
And yes, different. But not so different from here. I am going from one upper middle-class life to another, and I will be well cared for. And the things that I love the most (that aren't tangible and breathing) are universal.

Yesterday, Stephanie and I went out to get some Panera turkey sandwiches and talk logistics. Stephanie will be the poor soul who gets to travel with me to Germany. To be more specific, we are taking a flight to London, a flight to Switzerland, and then a bus into Freiburg. By the time we get into Freiburg, I'll need someone to scrape me off the seat and point me toward my dorm. Oh lucky girl.
But wait...hold on...LONDON????? FLYING INTO LONDON???
Now, I don't want to be one of the many, many Americans who is scared of their own shadows thanks to all the propaganda thrown around these days. But, I'm not really that thrilled about being blown up with a something that partially made out of Gatorade. No thanks. I don't even like sports drinks.
Stephanie asked me if I wanted to look for a flight that doesn't fly into London, but I have faith in American security, especially now that we're on level red smokin' hot or something. Most people in our program are flying into Frankfurt and are taking a train down. But not us. We had to torture some travel agent and find an obscure alternate route.
All I have to say is, I'd better be able to bring my Ipod on the plane, dammit.

Alright, since I got 6 hours of sleep, instead of my required 15, it is nap time. Work was amusing, although not very fruitful. I get to go back in again at 7. Oh Joy.

restaurant etiquette and maturing

I have stolen Sarah's computer, so this entry may have to end abruptly when she gets back. My own computer has been being "fixed" by Best Buy for about 2 months now. They've basically screwed up and treated us poorly for the entire summer, so my parents are preparing to rain down hell-fire on them, write nasty letters to corporate offices, etc. I'm not too concerned, considering I know better than anyone what it's like to piss my dad off. I'm just worried about getting my computer back in time to prepare it for Deutschland, which includes uploading 400+ CDs. I'm cursed when it comes to electronics. At this point my car and cell phone are also broken, but that doesn't worry me so much. I get to fly far, far away from them soon enough.

I have today off of work and am struggling to find something productive to do with my time. This summer I have been living in Ann Arbor serving at The Original Cottage Inn, working 35 hours a week or so. It's a nice mid-level restaurant. Not too fancy, but not too cheap. Just right, I'd say. And now I sound like I'm telling a children's fairy tale. Anyway, you can show up in jeans and order a couple pitchers of beer, or you can head there for a hot date and get the NY Strip and get a few cocktails. I really love working there, mostly because of the people I work with. It's good money, the time goes by quickly, and we always seem to have fun. When you mix overly-flirtatious Mexican cooks with beer-drenched college students and add in a crazy Greek boss, the outcome has to be fun. (I have no idea if I'm using those hyphens correctly. You get the point)
I've found that serving, aside from being good money, teaches you a lot about people, and how to keep your cool when you feel like you're about to die. I, after having won my high school's mock election for Most Dramatic, have come to terms with my drama queen-ness. When I started serving, everyone was sure someone would get some food in the face when I got angry. No no, my friends, it has worked out well, and maybe I've simmered down some thanks to my summers slaving over people. Sure, people piss you off a lot, but I feel like the majority are empathetic to servers. Anyone I've ever known who has worked in a restaurant is a wonderful tipper, because they can read into the signs. "Oh gee look at her running around like a crazy person. I'll understand if my lasagna takes a little longer than necessary." And now, for any of you that care to listen to my ranting...

THINGS NOT TO DO IN A RESTAURANT
1) Ask for waters for the whole table, when you're the only one who will be drinking water. Especially if it's a big table. It makes the tray twice as heavy, and doubles the chance that she will drop one of those unnecessary waters in your lap. So, it's your choice if you wanna look like you pissed yourself. You probably deserve it.
2) Ask your runners to get you things. Runners are the people who AREN'T your server who bring out your food. They are paid to run the food out, run back to the kitchen, repeat. They are NOT being paid to get you refills, or get you extra ketchup, or get you a new Ferrari. (Some guy asked me that the other day) If your server is any good at their job, you shouldn't have to ask and they should be at your table to check on you within minutes of you getting your food. Let the runner get back to the kitchen and get a chance to run out everyone's food. That's why they're getting paid.
3)Sit around for hours before you decide to look at the bill. We refer to these people as squatters or say that they're camping, and they are super obnoxious. If the restaurant isn't busy, there's a good chance your poor waitress can't go home until you decide to pay that bill. There are hundreds of other places you can go to blab with your friends.
4)Blame your server if you realize it is something out of her control. Don't punish them because you don't like how something tastes, where you're sitting, the weather, your mother-in-law...anything that they can't do anything about. If it takes hours to get a refill or the bill, then yes, that is their problem. But please be aware of what is expected of them. A restaurant is all about team work and sometimes certain parts of that chain are lacking. Just let her know and she can run back in the kitchen and chase someone around with a soup ladle if need be.
5) Tip well. It won't kill you to throw in a few extra dollars.

Ok those are just a few I came up with off the top of my head. Leaving CI is going to make me sad, but hopefully I can get a good job in Freiburg. Considering all the traveling I plan on doing, I'll need to be bringing in some good money. Oy.
My fingers are stained a deep red because I ate about a billion cherries last night. My boyfriend, Craig, threw some at me and I finished off the bag. Healthy and delicious. I just kept going. Now I look like I killed someone with my fingertips.

Sunday night my step-dad, whom I haven't seen in a year and a half, took me out to Olive Garden. After having been a major person in my life for a very long time, he and my mother got divorced the spring of my freshman year at U of M. I hadn't seen him since because I've been far too self-absorbed and busy to really make it work, but I guess moving to Germany opened up my eyes a bit. And maturing, which I have been doing a bit off this summer.
It was wonderful seeing him, and I can rest a bit easier knowing he's doing well. I know the divorce was hard on both of them, but I've been able to watch my mother move on. I haven't been able to see how he's been doing. Also, compliments from him about how I've grown and what I've accomplished really mean a lot. He's watched me grow up, and I hope he knows that he can take some credit for the person I've become. Now I can feel a little better about running off to Europe.
Enough of this Internet schtuff. I accidentally dropped $100 at Borders on Monday night. (Accidentally, Daddy. I promise.) I have a beautiful stack of new books to dive into. Love in the Time of Cholera or Invisible Cities?
Mmm.

Aller Anfang ist schwer

I am moving to Freiburg, Germany in 25 days. I will live there, as a student, for 48 weeks.

I have yet to really figure out how I feel about this ordeal. I like being able to properly classify my emotions and fit them into convenient little boxes, so I can anticipate how I will react when another similar scenario arises. Of course, this never works. Every situation seems to blindside me. I never know how strongly I'll feel about something until it's suddenly smacking me in the face and I'm a mess of tears and babble. That's what I think scares me the most. This is all going to hit me at once as soon as I turn to board that plane and I lose sight of my parents.
Of course, I wouldn't necessarily say being a ticking time-bomb of emotions is unlucky, or in any way bad. Sometimes it is rather inconvenient, but I enjoy being me. I, unlike the majority of my classmates and peers, am able and willing to move my entire life across an ocean for a year. And as my mother says, I've been destined to do this. I will not be scared. I will not be scared. Oh boy.

I am Rebecca Patterson. I am ambitious, creative, dramatic, and very forward. I am 20 years old and am entering my 3rd year at the University of Michigan, with a major in German and a minor in Moral & Political Philosophy. No, I have no clue as to what I'm going to do with my life, but I'm not going to worry about it just yet. For now, I plan on going and running around Europe until I "find myself" and after that, I'll trust instinct. Good plan, eh? Maybe I'm screwed, but at least I'll be bilingual.
My two most favorite things ever are Literature and Music. I am horribly obsessed with both, as anyone around me can tell you. One might wonder why I'm not an English major, or a Music major. We'll touch on that for another time, because I'll probably get overly passionate about it and start crying right here. That wouldn't be any good, considering I am at a public computing site. Oh, crying probably ranks at #3 on my favorite things list. Or boys.
Anyway, my biggest concern about going to Germany is my horrible fear of actually speaking in German. I'm what you would call a Grammar Nazi, and it's so much easier to double check yourself if the language is nicely written out in front of you. Conjugations and prepositions get so much trickier when you're letting things fly off your tongue. I think for my first month in Freiburg I will be mute. Great. I'll be the weird, quiet American girl. Then I'll start babbling in German and I'm sure I'll butcher everything. Maybe the country will throw me out. Hey, I could always end up in France, no?
I've grown up so in love with the English language, which I will blame on my parents. I've been writing and reading religiously since I was 5. My most prized possessions are my journals, which I have been keeping since I was 10, and have never failed to leave my side. All of my money goes to both new and used books. Once in awhile I'll go buy clothes or jewelry, like most girls my age, but they just feel so...boring after awhile. This next year, I feel like I'll be abandoning my beloved English language. Of course, I love German too, but for different reasons. German is so seductive and dramatic. English is honest and easy. It's as if English has been my devoted wife for years, and German is my mistress. I doubt that will make any sense to anyone, but it fits to me. So, I'm taking off with the mistress and am stepping completely out of my comfort zone. Maybe I am a masochist, but this should be fun.
Alright. That feels like enough of an introduction. If yee plan to be faithful readers, heed my warning: I am random as all hell. This is not meant to be the Great American Novel. It's going to be my space to rant for the next year or so, and at times it will be difficult for both of us. Let's both not expect too much and we'll come out fine.
And now, Chris is forcing me to go get sushi with him. Bah life is sooo difficult.