I'm joining that. As in: I should really be watching lectures but I'm feeling unmotivated. Maybe I should get out of the house.
This semester really flew by...just like the rest of life. And again I'm having all these thoughts that I so desperately want to catch and bottle and summon each time I want to write a blog post, but due to some weird law of physics (the one where when you examine a particle, it necessarily changes? what is that? quantum theory?) the thoughts morph and I can no longer conjure a coherent thought for the life of me as soon as I type "blogger.com".
Today was Mother's Day--my mom, my grandma, and my uncle who is in from Seattle all went to brunch. It was nice quality time for us all, but the Avenue Bar was extremely slow and after sipping on a bloody mary and some coffee and watching the minutes tick by into an hour, it got to be a bit much. My uncle ended up complaining; the food came, [side note: it was awesome! crab cake benedict, no one ever did have a better idea I daresay] and then we got our brunch completely free. I feel bad. I have to say, I am not one to do that. I was a waitress for a long time and I understand that the whole situation is difficult. People yelling at you, tugging at you one way or another, this person wants this, this person needs coffee, this other person needs more napkins because they are the messiest eater on earth. And people are rude--they can wear you down. I remember so distinctly working at Denny's as the customers would make me feel inadequate, as if my doing this menial job just wasn't cutting it. I am good in so many ways. And I was a good, cute waitress too. I hate that feeling that I am scolding someone; insinuating that they aren't good enough--you never know what their life circumstances are. In my eyes, it behooves you to take it easy on people and try to understand where they're coming from. I don't think I could ever fire someone for the same reasons...just like I don't think I'll ever break up with someone. I have to be really, really, really dissatisfied and angry to complain about things. It made me sad...my uncle also mentioned not giving a tip to the poor girl and I immediately laid my plans to come back later in the afternoon and correct the situation. Luckily, he did tip her, but something just feels wrong about getting all that food for free. Pity, really.
I'm 90% moved into my dad's basement. Mixed emotions...definitely not happy about having to live here for 9 months in the fall, but I'm thinking it'll be okay for these next four nights that I'm spending here. Four more nights in the USA before taking this journey of epic and scary proportions. I feel I owe everyone (all two of you reading) an explanation about that last blog post. I am scared of the loneliness and my inexplicable loss of German speaking skills, but I am so, so, so incredibly excited. My heart literally leaps and skips a beat when I think about going back. I'm not so scared of not being with my favorite Amis from last semester, simply because I've done quite a bit of traveling alone and with different people even in Germany...but I think, to me at least, what is more sinister is how you can feel like even more of an outsider when you've known a group of people that has evolved and grown and changed over almost a year, but you've evolved and grown and changed separately from them. Then you come back to a whole different situation...like how coming home here was. It was weird. Meeting new people is in many ways much easier than maintaining fractured friendships--you need building materials instead of maintenance calls. Consider: you don't even know you have a leaky faucet until you have water standing in the bathroom and leaking through the floorboards.
What ever happens, will happen. I don't have much control over the situation at this point...I'm leaving, this will happen, things will be new and different, the same and so incredibly strange. I'm excited and a little nervous for what these next few months have in store...
This semester really flew by...just like the rest of life. And again I'm having all these thoughts that I so desperately want to catch and bottle and summon each time I want to write a blog post, but due to some weird law of physics (the one where when you examine a particle, it necessarily changes? what is that? quantum theory?) the thoughts morph and I can no longer conjure a coherent thought for the life of me as soon as I type "blogger.com".
Today was Mother's Day--my mom, my grandma, and my uncle who is in from Seattle all went to brunch. It was nice quality time for us all, but the Avenue Bar was extremely slow and after sipping on a bloody mary and some coffee and watching the minutes tick by into an hour, it got to be a bit much. My uncle ended up complaining; the food came, [side note: it was awesome! crab cake benedict, no one ever did have a better idea I daresay] and then we got our brunch completely free. I feel bad. I have to say, I am not one to do that. I was a waitress for a long time and I understand that the whole situation is difficult. People yelling at you, tugging at you one way or another, this person wants this, this person needs coffee, this other person needs more napkins because they are the messiest eater on earth. And people are rude--they can wear you down. I remember so distinctly working at Denny's as the customers would make me feel inadequate, as if my doing this menial job just wasn't cutting it. I am good in so many ways. And I was a good, cute waitress too. I hate that feeling that I am scolding someone; insinuating that they aren't good enough--you never know what their life circumstances are. In my eyes, it behooves you to take it easy on people and try to understand where they're coming from. I don't think I could ever fire someone for the same reasons...just like I don't think I'll ever break up with someone. I have to be really, really, really dissatisfied and angry to complain about things. It made me sad...my uncle also mentioned not giving a tip to the poor girl and I immediately laid my plans to come back later in the afternoon and correct the situation. Luckily, he did tip her, but something just feels wrong about getting all that food for free. Pity, really.
I'm 90% moved into my dad's basement. Mixed emotions...definitely not happy about having to live here for 9 months in the fall, but I'm thinking it'll be okay for these next four nights that I'm spending here. Four more nights in the USA before taking this journey of epic and scary proportions. I feel I owe everyone (all two of you reading) an explanation about that last blog post. I am scared of the loneliness and my inexplicable loss of German speaking skills, but I am so, so, so incredibly excited. My heart literally leaps and skips a beat when I think about going back. I'm not so scared of not being with my favorite Amis from last semester, simply because I've done quite a bit of traveling alone and with different people even in Germany...but I think, to me at least, what is more sinister is how you can feel like even more of an outsider when you've known a group of people that has evolved and grown and changed over almost a year, but you've evolved and grown and changed separately from them. Then you come back to a whole different situation...like how coming home here was. It was weird. Meeting new people is in many ways much easier than maintaining fractured friendships--you need building materials instead of maintenance calls. Consider: you don't even know you have a leaky faucet until you have water standing in the bathroom and leaking through the floorboards.
What ever happens, will happen. I don't have much control over the situation at this point...I'm leaving, this will happen, things will be new and different, the same and so incredibly strange. I'm excited and a little nervous for what these next few months have in store...
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