crepes and kirs

Mother, the next time you nag me to update my blog, I am not going to write for a month.

I have no idea why I am currently started an entry, seeing as I am in no mood to be writing right now. I am slightly cranky, which would mean 'extremely cranky' for most people. My levels of crankiness exceed those of the general public. I am unique.
Also, just so everyone knows, about 50% of the blogs I write never actually get to the publishing stage. I think I could safely say that about everything I write, except for my journals. I'll go back and reread certain things and absolutely despise them upon closer inspection.
This is why my living areas are always filled with crinkled up bits of paper with scribbles all over them. Kind of how insane people live, actually.
I also read something a few months ago about how writers are far more likely to be people who bite their nails. I was overjoyed to have a new excuse.
So I bite my nails and live in piles of paper because that's just what I'm passionate about. You are no longer allowed to harass me about it.

ANYWAY
Paris was, of course, mind-blowing. I didn't even realize it was humanly possible to do so much in 3 days, but I think that's partially because Lisa refused to let me sleep past 10. She would just say "I have coffee..."
I will now provide a whirlwind recap. I spent a few hours at Aspekt the other day, writing about 20 pages about all of this, inhaling latte macchiatos, and making my hand cramp.
Ok...

1er Jour
(Thursday night doesn't count because I basically got right into Lisa's apartment and fell asleep. The train ride was uneventful. I just drooled all over my backpack and listened to Disney songs on my Ipod. "Go the Distance" was playing when we rolled through the city of Nancy, which made me miss Mommy )
I woke up to a rainy day in Paris, which didn't even bother me because I was so elated to actually be there. We had toast and coffee for breakfast and I got to meet her host mom. A very attractive, older, very wealthy woman who also happened to have perfect German. The apartment is GLORIOUS and amazingly furnished. And there I was in front of her, sputtering out nothingness because the caffeine hadn't yet kicked in . I also think I had messy 8-year-old boy hair and very short shorts on. Great first impression.
Lisa's "shower" also isn't really a shower. It's a spray thingy in a bathtub. Since I am the most uncoordinated person on the planet AND I am made of about 90% legs, it was way more difficult than it should have been.
The first place we went was Musee d'Orsay, which is about two blocks from Lisa's apartment. This was really the only place I absolutely insisted on going to, so we got it right out of the way.
I was kind of in shock the entire time, considering how many amazing pieces of art I was seeing. Monet, Degas, Renoir, Manet, Seurat...oh it was overwhelming. I took Art History 271 last year, which was 19th Century French Art and was probably one of my favorite classes ever.
I think my favorites were the 2 Monets of the woman in the field with a parasol. I also liked the Degas with the blue tutus. We passed over "Olympia" and retraced our steps through the entire place just to check out a painting of a dirty prostitute. I have no regrets.
After that we lunched at an authentic little French place, where I got veal and Lisa got salmon. The waiters were all incredibly attractive thin Frenchmen who were running amok and yelling at each other. The entire scene was surreal to me. Our food was, of course, excellent.
After that, despite occasional sprinkles which forced us to huddle under Lisa's umbrella, we took a stroll down the Champs Elysees all the way to the Arc de Triomphe.
It was cool how the streets were all spaced out around it but the structure itself wasn't terribly impressive. Just some big military hunk of stone.
After that, we went to the Eiffel Tower and rode up to the second floor. I liked how I was standing on a structure that is known by everyone I know. I could have called anyone at that moment, said "I am on the Eiffel Tower" and they would have been able to pinpoint me in the world.
Thoughts like that make me feel that I am indeed making my way across this planet.
I took a bunch of pictures of Paris with wet streets and then we walked back to Lisa's apartment. On the way we got crepes, which were amazing. Thankfully, they are not here in Freiburg, or I would have them daily. We hung out for a bit back at her place until we went to meet her good friend Sammy at some cheap Italian place for dinner. Sammy is my kind of girl. Lisa says she reminds her of me because she's more about quality over quantity. Right-O. After that we went to their favorite Irish pub in the Latin District for some conversation and hard cider.
I watched some Star Academy, which is their version of American Idol but is even more popular, I guess. I was transfixed and horrified. The men were wearing more makeup than I do when I'm dressed up.
Eventually some other Americans came to meet up with us. Don't ask me how Sammy knew them. The connection was far too complicated. But I was next to a guy from Swarthmore who is in Madrid for the semester, and some girl from Amherst who's in the south of France.
I asked them all about their programs, where they've traveled, how they like it, etc. They were very nice, but seemed a bit put off by my being in Germany. I had forgotten how much I hate that. No Europeans I meet have any problem with me studying here, but I've forgotten how biased Americans are. One just has to really wonder, why are we the only ones?
They also went on and on about how a semester is long enough and they're ready to go home. Lisa and I kind of gave each other a look but didn't say anything. After we had left the bar and were on our way to get on the Metro, we both agreed that we have not accomplished half of the things we plan to here. I am extremely excited to go home for Christmas, but I could not imagine staying there. I need to come back here and do so much more.
A semester is perfect for a lot of people. It's just not right for me.

2eme Jour - Lisa's Birthday
The next morning I once again wrestled with the shower, but it was a bit better. I just have to sit on my legs, as if they're some animal to be tamed. I just made myself laugh out loud.
We went back to the Latin District to have lunch with Lisa's family friends. Lisa's mom is a French teacher in Cincinatti and has been friends with Mrs. Hervier since they were children. Mr. and Mrs. Hervier met when she was studying abroad in Paris for the year and now they've been married 30 years and living in France.
ahhhhHHHH. That thought scares me.
They have three children who are all in their 20's. Peter is semi-dating Sammy, whom he met through Lisa.
They were very nice and spoke in English for my sake, even though Mrs. Hervier asked me in French if I liked German food. I understood and responded with 'Oui!'. I ate some quiche, some tart, drank more coffee, and enjoyed the conversation. We talked a lot about French politics and anti-Semitism in Paris. Afterward Lisa made some comment about how she's glad I'm so versatile. Yes, I can go to a bar and enjoy myself, but I won't be bored to tears if I'm eating quiche and talking about the next French president.
Take THAT, Parents.
After lunch we wandered down to see the Opera house and the Galaries Lafayette, which is kind of like the Saks Fifth of Paris. It was sensory overload, which made me think that Laura would like it a lot. The building itself is stunning and has a ginormous Christmas tree going up the middle of it. There are also about a million lights and the main floor is the makeup-perfume floor. This was also a Saturday right before Christmas, so half the population of Paris was in there. So lights, noise, perfume, and my feet were hurting. I was about to seizure or cry.
After that we went to Sephora where I bought my first grown up lipstick and Lisa got Chanel mascara. I now just need more excuses to wear dark red.
We basically crawled to Notre Dame because we both wore heels for some stupid reason. I took blurry pictures and then we crawled back to her apartment. The 'Happy Feet' posters were mocking us at every bus stop.
That night we met up with Sammy and another girl, Sarah, to take Lisa out for her birthday. We went to get 'moules frites' which are mussels with fries which I guess Lisa loves. We all got huge orange pots of dead sea creatures. I was definitely NOT a fan but I ate the entire thing and didn't complain. Afterward Sarah and I split the creme brulee and the chocolate mousse, so all's well that ends well. It was worth it to see Lisa so overjoyed with the restaurant choice.
We spent the rest of the night at Sammy's drinking kirs royals (black currant liqueur + champagne) and having Michael Jackson dance offs. Lisa got drunk enough to be incredibly amusing, which we all took many, many pictures of. I had to pile her into a taxi and figure out my own way home, which I did successfully.

3eme Jour
My final day in Paris was gorgeous. The Herviers had actually told me that the weather was unusually warm for that time of year.
We wandered through a bit of the Jewish District and ate lunch in the Luxembourg Gardens, after wandering around trying to find someplace that was open. We got mini-pizzas and Coke and met up with Sammy who had gotten Mcdonalds. I got to see where the French senate meets, watch the little sailboats in the fountain, and write a few postcards.
I said goodbye to Sammy and went home to pack up my things. The goal WAS the 4:45 train, but when we finally got to the Paris Gare d'Est, located the International Ticket counter, and saw the line, I realized it wasn't happening. I am used to the German system of efficiency! Not the chaos of Paris!
So, we went up to the counter and asked for the next ticket to Freiburg.
Lisa turned to me, translated, and said it was at 8:30 the next morning and would be 92 Euro.
I, of course, immediately started panicking about never getting home, missing class, getting myself into a huge mess, etc. And when things start running through my head that quickly, they tend to leak out through my eyes. And, right there, in the train station, they did.
The ticket lady immediately took pity on me and started rapidly looking for an alternate route and any reduction she could find. Apparently it was some "special" day where my regular student discount didn't work.
Eventually she found me a train leaving Paris at 10:45 and getting into Freiburg at 7 AM for 79 Euro. I figured that was the best I was gonna get. Lisa kept telling me it was gonna be ok. I'm so thankful she was there.
So, instead of sitting in the train station for hours, Lisa took me back home with her. Her host mom was having her son and his girlfriend over for dinner, but I told Lisa I'd just sleep and not bother them. However, Lisa came in to tell me that a place had been set for me at the table and I should come out to enjoy some of her birthday champagne.
I love wealthy old French women.
The dinner ended up being absolutely fabulous. Amazing steak, potatoes, some cauliflower thing, chicken, wine, and cake to end it all. The son (I forget everyone's name) had brought over his black lab, which I very quickly became friends with. He kept crawling up on me at the dinner table, which I didn't mind one bit. It made me miss my pets.
For a second time I said goodbye to everyone and was off to the train station with plenty of time to spare. It was hard saying goodbye to Lisa and to such a beautiful city, but I was anxious to get back to Germany. I know this language. I know this culture.
I shared a compartment with a German percussionist named Julian who was 23 and spent a few hours flirting with me. We had a long, long talk, until I ended it to write in my journal. He curled up and fell asleep, and demanded that I wake him up at my stop so he could help me with my luggage.
I couldn't sleep well at all, so I spent a long time staring up at the French stars and thinking. It was nice, even though I was horribly exhausted.
At 5 AM we got into Karlsruhe, where I silently snuck out of our compartment. I appreciate chivalry, but I am fine on my own. Once off the train, I wandered for a bit in the cold and the dark, until a conductor asked me if I had a wrong time. I showed him my ticket and I think he could tell I was on the verge of tears. So he told me to get on his train, which was also going to Freiburg, but was moving slower. He said at least I'd be safer that way, and he could look out for me.
He did just that the whole way to Freiburg, which I was so thankful for. Traveling by yourself is scary enough, but when it's on no sleep and your French tickets are confusing, it's even worse.
I got back home around 7:15 and slept until my first class.
THE END

Holy long entry. I did my best to include detail, but that could not have been fun to read through.
Overall, Paris was spectacular, but at the same time it made me realize how accustomed to Germany I've become. German trains arrive to the second. Germans recycle. Germans are ridiculously clean. I never thought I'd miss those things, but I did.
I understood enough French to be aware of the conversations around me, but everytime I try to think in French, I immediately want to go back to German. It's my comfort zone.
Lisa was also an amazing hostess. It made me realize what a mature, considerate, amazing girl she is. I am so happy that we're living together next year.

Ok nonsensical tidbits later. I need some sleep. This weekend includes a Verdi opera, a Brahms piano recital, and a tentative trip to Stuttgart to see that Christmas market. The Freiburg one is up and it's absolutely adorable. The city is so festive.
I also have to clean my kitchen and my bathroom tomorrow. Oh help.
But, at least I have a reasonable shower...

the formative years

I am eating my Thanksgiving meal right now, which actually isn't half bad. It consists of a package of Wasa crackers, Brunch Schnittlauch Buttermilch spread, and a fresh brewed cup of coffee in my favorite Tasse. I also have a Gala apple, and maybe some candy corn for dessert. We'll see how much I can handle. A feast!
I've been doing my best to cut down my pop intake. (And it is POP. Not SODA.) Over here I'm a big fan of Spezi, which is half Fanta, half Coke. But I figure in the past few years I've consumed enough Mt. Dew to put me on the verge of a diabetic coma many, many times over. I guess someone actually told Julia that they found a candy store which sells "the Dew". She said "Don't tell Becca! Getting away from that was the best thing about her coming here!"
I'd have to agree. The thought of Mt. Dew makes me nauseous, actually.
Anyway, I haven't had any pop in 3 days. Now, I just drink coffee, which I'm sure is horrible for me in an entirely different way.
Oh well, it's comforting and suger-free. Coffee reminds me of my father.
Another thing I've noticed is how comforting the sound of clicking heels is. I think that goes back to when I was little, because clicking heels always meant that MOMMY WAS HOME FROM WORK. And that was just the best.
It still means that, but instead of running to give her a hug and show her what I fingerpainted that day, I'm usually nagging her for food or the keys to the car.

I leave for Paris at 17:57, which is roughly in 3 hours. I get into Paris at 23:40, so almost 6 hours on the train. Bah. I was originally going to leave tomorrow morning, but my only Thursday class got magically canceled, so now I get all day Friday and Saturday to terrorize the French. Magnifique!
I asked Lisa what we'd be doing and the list included sightseeing, drinking Strongbow and really good 2 Euro wine, going out for her birthday, and going to lunch with some family friends of hers (who are super French). I am so so so excited.
This will also be nice because she's one of my very best friends at U of M. She lived across the hall from me freshman year and we're living together next year as well. It will be so nice to see her and she's already been in Paris a few months, so I'll have an amazing guide.
AHHHHH

Last weekend was absolutely adorable as well. I've been so starved for music that it was so nice to just sing my pants off the entire time. I absolutely love the Alto parts in all the music we're singing. I just love being an Alto, overall. It's more challenging, and we never really sound screechy.
We were in two "Huette" right in the middle of some little town in the Schwarzwald and rehearsed in the music room of a Grundschule (like an elementary school) nearby. It was very relaxing, other than the stress of having to constantly be speaking auf Deutsch. My head starts to hurt after awhile.
The experience was really the most German thing I've ever been involved with, which was almost more rewarding than making music for hours and hours. Breakfast was bread, wurst, cheese, coffee, and tea. Lunch was always the largest meal and then dinner was usually just soup and bread. On Saturday night we made "Gluehwein" which is absolutely spectacular. It's hot wine with various cinnamon and other spices added in. Lecker.
I also played my first game of German Scrabble. It was actually Ben, Adam and me against Claudia. We told her we were all allowed to cheat, but she wasn't because she was actually German and therefore had the advantage. Various Germans would wander over and do their best to help us. Thanks to "Gaumen" (the word for the upper part of your mouth?) Ben won. Psh. I got stuck with Q. And he would not have known that word on his own.
We also played a ridiculous game of Obstsalat (otherwise known as Musical Chairs). I accidentally didn't get up for "Who has already been in America" because I was zoning out. I got some funny looks.
Someone also said "Who is a real tenor" and absolutely no one stood up. Haha.
I think I also proved myself to the Alto section. Now they all know that yes, I CAN speak their language, I just have to be forced into it. And by the end of the weekend people sitting next to me were asking where to breathe in the music, where certain crescendos were, etc. Everyone was amazingly nice and so interested in why I'm in Freiburg and where I learned to sing.
Ben and I also were wearing Michigan tees on Saturday night and trying to explain to the Germans how important the OSU game was. We were met with a lot of blank expressions. Ben was receiving text messages from Alex who was back in Freiburg watching the game on the Internet.
So, I may have been in-the-middle-of-nowhere Deutschland, but I still knew what was going on with Michigan football.

Alright, maybe I should being packing. But first, I'm going to say what I'm thankful for, which you can write on a tablecloth, Mom.
I am thankful for the presence my grandparents had in my youth. It was far better than any day care and because of them, I learned how to sew, canoe, make amazing cookies, sing ridiculous songs, and most importantly, to learn how to love to read.
I am also thankful that Grandma never let us watch The Simpsons. I feel more intelligent because of it.

I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving. I will return on Sunday night, hopefully wearing a beret and filled with crepes.
Oh. SO cliche....

academic requirements and moral obligations

My mother yelled at me to write in my blog, so I'll be an obedient daughter. OH that's one of my new words. 'Brav' means obedient, and is one of those obnoxious words that looks like it could be the same thing in English. No, that's 'mutig'. I have become very familiar with that word because it's always being yelled at the bass section in choir about their entrances.
Anyway, I have thus far have had a productive day. I woke up at 10 to go to the AYF office and take care of some paperwork. I am now officially enrolled in classes, which makes me laugh because everyone in Ann Arbor it's already past mid-terms. Afterward, I finally bought my Semesterkarte to ride the Strassenbahn, which I have been purposely avoiding. It's been forcing me to walk/ride my bike more, but I finally caved. The fee for being a Schwarzfahrer (literally, black rider, but means you're riding without a ticket) is pretty steep, and I have been rebellious a few times already.
Then I came home, did my laundry, made lunch, read a bit, and I am now working on my third cup of coffee. I am meeting my choir at the train station at 16:50 to go up to Oberprechtal for the weekend, which I am so excited about. I'm borrowing Sonja's sleeping bag, so this will officially be my first German sleepover. Ohh boy.
Last week in sectionals I stumbled upon another American alto, Andrea, who is here for the year. After rehearsal we walked back into town together (about a half an hour walk) which I absolutely didn't mind because we were just talking about everything and absolutely bonding. She was an English/Music major at Amherst, but then switched to German/Music after realizing she was sick of people asking her how she felt after reading something. She's originally from New Jersey, also has a very musical family, is an obsessive journal writer, and actually prefers playing the piano to singing.
We were both getting overly excited about meeting each other, so I'm excited to spend all weekend with her.
Another funny thing that I suppose I should mention, is how well I can relate to her reason for not majoring in English. That's basically the same thing I thought. Also, most English majors I've met at U of M are absolutely miserable with their major. I was so excited about taking Intro. to Poetry last semester, but after asking around, I decided to run in the opposite direction. These were fellow book-lovers who warned me that I'd come out the other end hating poetry. No thank you. I also do much better with books when I'm not being forced to read them and then go along with someone elses understanding of the text. That just goes along with my personality, though.
For example, during my middle school and high school years, reading To Kill a Mockingbird was never required of me. I find this incredibly rare, considering the overwhelming majority of my peers had to. But, this was also a blessing. I got to read it (and re-read it) on my own, which I loved. Who's to know if it would be one of my favorite books today if it had been presented to me differently.
Now, things like The Scarlet Letter and Great Expectations I would have loathed either way, I think.
Also, I hate how U of M forces every freshman to take English 124: College Writing. Now, I think it's a good idea for the majority of incoming freshman, but I wish they'd take a look at AP scores. If someone did exceptionally well on AP Literature, AP Language, or, ya know BOTH, maybe they shouldn't have to take a class that would basically just be review.
I enjoy easy A's, but I do not enjoy wasting my time.
So, if anyone was curious, that's why I'm not an English major.

Last night Laura IMed me, freaking out about "everything". Poor Punky. So, I gave her some advice, and I happen to think this was damn good advice. I think I would offer this to anyone who is stressing out.
I asked her if she'd been alone in awhile and she hadn't. So I told her to put on some comfortable clothes, wash off her makeup, grab a journal and go to Starbucks. I told her to get some type of comforting drink, like hot chocolate or hot cider. No caffeine. Find a spot in the corner. The corner is essential, because it's easier to get into your own little world there, and you don't feel like you're on display. Then, just write. Doesn't matter about what. Just write about your thoughts, why you're stressed, how you feel about global warming, etc. Sometimes I'll people watch and then write about what I see. Your feelings come out in whatever you write. That's why writing without a bias is impossible.
I hope she followed my advice. The older I get, the more I value alone time. I've also found a favorite corner in my favorite cafe. The front left corner of Aspekt. A Milchkaffee and some Kartoffelsuppe and I'm set for hours. That's what I did last weekend with Franny & Zooey by J.D. Salinger. I would recommend that one, by the way.

All of my friends have run off to Barcelona for the weekend on a whim. I'm not too jealous, because I'm going to Paris next weekend to celebrate Lisa's 21st. And I get to spend this weekend singing Latin and doing yawn sighs which is one of my ideas of a perfect weekend.
The Paris thing was kind of a random decision I made after talking to Mommy. I have someplace to stay, I can live off of French cheese, bread and wine for a weekend, and I mean, SEEING PARIS RIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS???
I told Lisa not to worry about the Lourve or Versailles, because we have limited time and I feel like trying to do those two in a hurry would be foolish. But everything else I want to see, including the Sainte Chapelle, per the advice of Cindy Stuart. I also would say I'd like to practice my French, but I'm not going to kid myself. I remember about 20 words, and one of those is 'oublier'. Oh the irony.
Speaking of Versailles, I went to see Marie Antoinette the other night. There wasn't much dialogue or plot, but the film was meant more to be visual candy, I think. It was also kind of nice not being overwhelmed with rapid fire German.
After the film, my friend Monika and I were talking about why we weren't going on and on about how we'd like to live a life of luxury like that. We know too much of the history. Normally, I'd ooh and ahh all about her gorgeous shoes, but I also know all about how many people were starving. Instead, it makes it disgusting
But then, you know, I'm living the life of luxury compared to the majority of people on this planet. Am I as bad at Marie Antoinette? How obligated should I be? am I?

Thoughts like this are what I write about when I'm holed up in cafe corners.

the Bum and the Bard

I wrote this last night, and then Blogger waged a war against me. So, here, NOCH EINMAL....

I, having finished my homework before midnight, now have some time to blog about randomness. This is indeed a rare, rare occurance.
My mouse is acting up, I can't figure out how to work my printer, and my lights occasionally flicker. Having no other logical explanation, I am forced to believe that there is a poltergeist living in my room with me. A logical explanation would of course be that I am just jinxing every electronic machine I own, but I refuse to believe that the curse followed me to Europe. Here, I will be able to cook, clean, and operate basic machinery of the 21st century.
The mouse thing is really obnoxious though. I'm resisting the urge to throw it across the room right now.
Anyway, I haven't been blogging much lately because nothing terribly exciting has been going on around here. I've been doing a lot of sleeping, which has led to a lot of exciting dreams but not much else. Sleeping too much is a sign of depression, but I really think I am an exception to this rule. Hell hath no fury like a Becca on little sleep. And by little sleep, I mean less than 10 hours.
The problem is that my mornings are always free, except for Wednesdays I have class at 10 and THAT course hasn't even started yet. Monday I begin at 12, Thursday I begin at 4, and those are the only days I even have class. I have 4 days of the week to be an absolute bum. I am totally not used to this.
Part of this I will attribute to my American-ness. Maryia and I had a talk about how Americans are continually keeping themselves busy and are always working. I believe it, but I never thought that I was of that mindset. I'm a huge fan of procrastination and spending half the day in my pajamas. I've never really considered myself a very driven student and at U of M, I go to the library partially because it's a social opportunity. There. I said what no one else is willing to admit.
But I guess I am. I guess I enjoy being busy. I enjoy being productive. I enjoy holding an end result in my hands, whether it be a paycheck or an essay.
My roommates wake up at the crack of dawn and are off to school, the gym, work, saving the planet and if they're not, they're cleaning. I usually crawl out of my room sometime around 1. They all smile and say good morning, but all I can do is laugh. I bet they think I'm nocturnal, lazy, or both. I'm Becca, the American Bum.
I need a hobby. Or a boyfriend. Or to train for a triathalon. Or a JOB.
Yes. The most logical answer of course.
But...uh...where do you start when you're in a foreign country and are only half-fluent?
I've got the world's weirdest schedule (which includes class until 8 two nights a week...) which isn't helping at all. I don't know what I want to do or what I can do. In the US, I would never have this problem, because I'd be way too picky about it. I'd want one type of job and then I'd go threaten people until I got it. Here, I am totally out of my element. It's stressing me out and I know it's stressing my parents out.
At this point, the money would be nice, but the feeling of self-worth would probably be even more exciting. My first step will be talking to Ulli and other AYFers. So, enough complaining. I am just giving myself premature grey hairs right now.

Things aren't terribly exciting these days. I guess for awhile I got so used to running off to foreign cities that now I'm bored sitting around here.
Choir is wonderous. We have a practice weekend coming up where we rent out two houses in the Schwarzwald for the weekend to practice, eat, practice, eat, party, practice, eat. I happen to be a fan of all three, so I am looking forward to this lil choir retreat.
I had my voice check with the director, where I just went in and sang a bunch of warm-ups. (I did this after inhaling a gigantic dinner, too) Her only concern is about how well I pronounce the German, which I guess is legitimate. I haven't been raised around umlauts. She said the same thing to Ben. Well, lady, I will show YOU how well I can sing "erbarme mich" 75 times in a row.
And I will do it with good posture and dynamics. HA!
Friday night I went to go see Othello in German, which was required for my theater class, but I would have been glad to do on my own. I personally think Othello is highly underrated. I find Iago amazing. Despicable, but amazing and my favorite sociopath in literature.
Oh, contemporary European theater...
There were times that I was very confused, but it was like a puzzle to figure out. Theater is art and art needs motivation. It also was loaded with symbolism, which I found fascinating. I always find symbolism fascinating. I'm a fan of secrets.
I've also had to hear my peers whining and bitching about Shakespeare, which I don't agree with at all. We have a copy with both the original English and German in it and I've heard numerous people say that the German is easier to read, just because the English is so difficult.
I have patience with very few things, but literature is one of them. And Shakespeare deserves my time. Figuring out a line of his is like solving an equation, but one with words is so much more inviting than numbers. Instead of some line up of cold Arabic numerals, you get a smooth line of poetry that contributes to a larger whole. And all in iambic pentameter, no less!
I find it genius. So do millions of people throughout the centuries. So, forgive me if I momentariy zone you out. You can do the same with me when I complain about video games.
After the play we went to Haendelstrasse to some party in Jan's WG, where I spent the majority of the night dancing...in heels.
Jan and I often have dance-offs, which really are a joke because he's far more talented than I am. The salt in the wound came when he put on Footloose and won. A German? Better with Kenny Loggins? Oh, the SHAME.
I think I beat him on Halloween with Backstreet Boys, though. My 13-year-old self resurfaced. The shortness of my skirt may have helped somewhat. (I'm going to skip Halloween because it wasn't anything extraordinary. We just dressed up and went to StuSie bar and showed the Germans how to properly celebrate)
Anyway, at Jan's the dance floor consisted of 2 very funny Spanish girls, 1 Craig (he showed up out of nowhere), 1 Jan, 1 Becca, a handful of drunk American, and sulking soccer players in the corner. It was quite a scene.
I think my dancing abilities (or lack thereof) are because I'm just not scared of what anyone else thinks. I was wearing heel and dress pants but I went out there, messed up my hair and sang along to "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy". I don't care how ridiculous that song is. It is still a guilty pleasure, and I was overjoyed to hear it being played in Germany.

My Aunt Shirley shipped me a box with 6 bags of Cheetos, SpongeBob Mac & Cheese, and a really cute sweater. I was the envy of all in Theater class. I was ELATED. Oh man.
The only problem is now that's all I want to eat. I am constantly craving orange American food. I made my roommates try mac & cheese, even though they failed to see what all the fuss was about. I told them that every 5-year-old in America would be outraged.
Speaking of roommates...
Hallo Christoph. Alles klar?

I am going to go search for symbolism in my Cheetos as I eat them in bed.