"Insufficent Funds"

I want to say that Dwight was jealous of the great time I had tonight and that all the candies were stolen but it's okay. I want to say that I hope you decide to come to the concert even though you have never heard his music before because I know you will love it. I want to say I wish you weren't so tall because then I wouldn't be baffled as to how I can kiss you without looking like I'm about to kiss you. I want to say thank you for taking me to museums because I love learning more than anything and I'm glad you picked up on that. I want to say, I want to say...

One Month Down, Two to Go

I can't believe I've been here a month. There is absolutely no way it's been that long. It feels like three days, or maybe a week.

But a month?

A lot has happened in that span of time and yet nothing at all. I'm in a grove at the school now-- I'm starting to get a lot done, but then again it never seems to be good enough (at least not by my standards). I want to be better, I want to be the best. But I'm so new at this it's almost painful, the mistakes I make and the situations which occur in the classroom from time to time. It's everything I expected it to be-- the silence, the prodding, the pushing. Anything to get these students feeling something for their studies other than resentment feels like I've won a gold medal.

Sometimes when I walk into a classroom the indifferent looks students throw at me is so strong I feel like I'm drowning. I don't know what to do half the time. I want to shock them all. I want to pump life into their minds and I want words to spill out of their mouths like oil. I want them to care about what they are learning.

How the hell am I supposed to do that?

A month. I've been here a month and I have friends now. Karo, Judith, Marc...people I can count on and go to if I need help. But if I'm depressed or sad--- which I honestly don't have time for-- I keep it to myself. No sense worrying people over something I know is temporary anyway. I love my new friends who are nothing like my old friends at all. Because of them I have people to talk to, cook with, shop with, drink tea with, go to the movies with.

I read a lot. I'm talking a book a week, if that. I can't stop reading and that's fine, because I'm still in my own little world when it comes to daily life. I don't understand the words around me, so I go into myself and think about things. Jobs, Virginia, apartments, home, Athens, seminar, work I should be doing but I'm not because I'm reading too damn much.

German sounds like English to me now. I will think I hear a word or a phrase in English, strain my ears so much I think they are about to fall off, and realize that no, it's still German, what did you expect?

I ran into a boy from Athens today. He graduated from Oconee County Highschool and is a first year at UGA. He's here for some scholarship program and was with a bunch of other teenagers from the states. This is the second person I've met 4,000 miles away from a place we have in common. The second person. Is the world really that small? When did the world get this small?

I miss Athens a lot, but mainly I miss the people. I hear their voices in my head, making comments about the food I know they would make, or one-liners I imagine them saying and laughing outloud at nothing. I'm not going crazy, but being on my own has put things into perspective. This isn't a study abroad. This isn't me with a group of thirty other kids from the States hanging around and going on trips together. This is me, alone, going to the grocery store, going to work. This is me taking pictures with no one in them. This is me, realizing that I don't regret coming here but wishing I had someone to share it with.

One month down, two more to go.

Dating in Germany

Dating doesn't exist here. At least, not in the way most Americans think it does.

When one thinks of dating there is always this pressure hanging over both parties. The guy usually pays and does so for the remainder of the dating period. The girl-- and guy-- dresses up nice. They go out to eat to talk, the guy orders a steak and the girl orders a salad, etc. Dating is basically there for people to go out and find if they even like each other, but in the most poliet and strainded of ways.

If you asked a German teenager what "dating" is like here they would just stare at you. They don't date, they hang out. They go to movies. They are friends first and foremost and there is absolutely no pressure on either side to conduct themselves in ways that "dating" usually requires of us. They are themselves and absolutely no pretenses are given. You pay for yourself, because you're just hanging out. You may go to two or three times but that doesn't mean anything other than you like each other's company.

Regardless, last night was the best-non date I've ever been on.

The Woman With Soup On Her Face

Judith, a fellow intern and a bit older than me, invited me to her boyfriend's ex-apartment for a sing-a-long in order to learn all the Cologne songs for Karneval. There's hundreds upon hundreds of songs that people know just by listening to them for years on end, but we went over about fifty or so.

I probably know the refrain to two of them.

Ether way, I got to meet some great people. Judith and the other interns at the school are a welcome sight. No more older teachers surrounding me-- I finally have people my own age I can talk to. I'm still the youngest, but who cares. Age ain't nothin' but a number.

I was absolutely exhausted today due to some late-night work the night before. I feel like I'm busting my ass for one of my classes but it's still not coming through the way I would like. I'm not satisfied with my performance, or that of the students. But I'm learning loads along the way and making plenty of mistakes to learn from.

But I took my second adventure on the train system in the city to get to Judith's boyfriend's ex-apartment. I wanted to buy my ticket in the station but didn't have any change (no notes allowed) and asked a couple of people near me if they had any. On asking the three people who looked to be around me age I realized that yes, I'm going to have to ask the two old women chatting away for change. These women were...well, they were old. As I was walking towards them I asked if they spoke English and one of the women said "Yes! I speak English" and promptly started talking to me in German.

But then I noticed something upon closer inspection. She had thick yellow soup dripping down her face.

It was about this time that I don't know whether to laugh or to run and ask the people that are suddenly streaming onto the platform. I stick it out, only to be grabbed by my jacket and pulled within a couple of inches of the woman's face. She's pulling a ton of change out of her pocket, most of which is falling on the floor and all the while her friend is yelling at her. I look up to the previous people I asked and realize about twenty people are watching the exchange with rapt attention. I make a face and most laugh, because what else can I do.

So the woman with soup on her face slowly places change in my hand. Some 1 euro coins, others 1 cent coins. My train comes and goes and most people leave, giving me apologetic smiles on their way to wherever. I continue my crouching and picking up change falling out of the woman's pocket and realize that no, she doesn't have enough for a five note, only a little over four euros.

I tell her it's fine and I don't mind. I take my money and buy my ticket. The woman's friend without soup on her face gets out of her chair and hobbles to me, giving me a token for a supermarket cart so I can get fifty cents back (here you put money in the cart as incentive to not steal it. Once you're done shopping you get the money back). I almost laughed in her face, but she was so earnst that I held back and waited until I got on the train.

So there's that story. I have plenty of others, but that was today's highlight. Tomorrow is the start of Karneval and I have an outfit (thanks to Judith and my previous shopping spree). Plans are tomorrow with Karo, Friday with Judith, Saturday is a big question mark, and Sunday is the parade with Mr. and Mrs. W and then my date with Marc.

Monday and Tuesday Karneval is still going on, but I can't think that far ahead. Lord knows I have plenty of work to do for back home, but I have a feeling I'll in such high spirits (read: drinking and having a grand old time) that I won't care. The fifth season of the year, indeed.

Gay Capitol of Germany. Are The Odds Against Me?

Apparently not, because I'm finding it easier to meet guys here than in Athens. Ridiculous, considering I don't even speak the language. I think Nneka is right-- it's only when we're abroad that we meet people interested in us. Or better yet, we meet guys who are interested and follow up.

So much for Sunday's being dead.

Current Time: 9:12pm

Sundays are Dead

Current Time: 10:45am

Everything is closed on Sunday, save for bakeries, some restaurants, Starbucks, and the movie theaters. Need milk from the grocery store? Forget it-- you'd be better off finding a cow and milking it yourself.

But because everything is dead my Sundays have been quiet boring these past three weeks. I mean, I usually take a book and head to Starbucks for a couple of hours but that gets old fast. Besides, this is the one Sunday where I have plenty to do but don't want to do it.

I am incredibly behind on my seminar assignments. Even though I can't physically go I'm still to read and write papers while here and turn them in via webct. But have I? Oh no, definitely not. And now I'm paying for it. I'm going to have to bust my ass to catch up with everyone.

Yesterday I met a man who grew up in Athens. This 40 year old guy made me draw a map of downtown Athens and show him where everything is. Then he proceeded to cross out most of the shops and move The Grill where Taco Stand is, and 40 watt was over by Tasty World (or was it Ka-Bob's?). Highly entertaining and I know I will see him again. I like this hole-in-the-wall bar very much and the regulars are a strange breed indeed. Young, old, queer (literally) and straight. The owner is a woman from California who looks like my Aunt Marla.

Ate at a pretty good Indian restaurant with Mr. and Mrs. W and a friend of theirs. Very good food, if not a bit expensive. They then took me to an American Country-Music bar, which looked like some dump that would have been in Alabama. American flags with Native American Indians on them, Confederate flags, huge sections of the wall dedicated to country music singers...it was hysterical. I think I might have offended an old man by taking a pictures of the place, but I couldn't help it. Things like this need to be documented. I think the music was even worse than the cigar smell eminating from aforementioned crazy old man. God, I hate country music.

This week is going to be pretty hectic at the school, but Thursday is a half day due to Karneval (and school is off until Wednesday). I can actually feel the energy level of the town increasing day by day. Bleachers on the side of the road for the parade, more older people dressed in costumes than I have ever seen...people are constantly talking about it. I am extremely excited, though I fear I might die during the five-day ordeal.

Music Is My Life. And Reading. And School. And Life is My Life Too.

God, my head is so...stuffed. I didn't think I could be doing so many things at once but still finding time to read for three hours on a given day at Starbucks.

I'm really beginning to like my "quiet time" there. I think I like it because of the music. I heard Joni Mitchell's "A Case of You" and I automatically thought of Lauren and driving at dusk on Prince Avenue and her looking at me and saying "This song reminds me of Ben."

Teaching is going well, and by teaching I mean actual teaching. And by well I mean tolerable. Half the time I don't make sense and I feel so disorganized I could wish my stupid observation notebooks (lovingly Moleskine, of course) would swallow me whole. I've been teaching some classes off and on for the past week, but today I was...well, like my teacher said I really need to start writing a game plan. A step-by-step of what I want to do, what questions I want to ask, everything. It would help a lot, that's for sure. You'd think I'd know this by now, after teaching this past summer. I had that all written down...so why should this be any different?

And speaking of this summer, I can't wait for it to get here. I'm excited because it's fun and it's wonderful and it's hard running around with sleep in my eyes but I love it too much not to go back. I can't being to describe how many hours I should have been getting but instead I would wake up too-early to work on a class I always arrived late for. And the phone calls. Priceless.

But my life here is consisting of covering myself with music and books. Onto my third book in three weeks, a New Year's resolution that is bound to fail sooner rather than later. John Legend has been keeping me company as of late, and so has The Shins.

Also, I'm slightly loopy off cold medicine, for nearly 70% of all surfaces in a classroom (no matter where you are in the world) is covered with the flu virus at the end of any given day. The only job I can think of that deals with this many germs is a hospital. Or maybe someone that studies germs. But then those people deserve what happens to them, don't they? Who wants to work with germs anyway? That wouldn't be interesting dinner conversation, I can assure you.

"...and he said "I think someone shit on the coats'!"
(laughter all around)
"So, Bob, what is it you do again?"
"Oh! I study germs! Would you like to hear about this latest strand we've discovered of mad cow disease?"

Yeah. Right.

A Night Out

Going out with Marcia and her friends wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The dinner we went to was very nice-- an upscale Chinese restuarant--- and the club was very interesting indeed. Half the time I felt like I was undercover and doing an educational study on the difference between American clubs and German clubs. There's plenty to talk about, but I'll mention the things that come off the top of my head.

German clubs are more orderly and organized. Nearly everyone checks their coat, because the smoke is so thick that the smell would never come out. Once you are admitted into the bar you go through a cue and pay the entrance fee, recieving a "kreditkarte" (creditcard) as your reciept. It's a flimsy piece of plastic that has different Euro amounts on the back. Instead of paying for your drinks at the bar you give your card to the bartneder, who then punches small holes into the the appropriate spaces on the card saying what you owe. When you leave the club you go through another cue to pay for your drinks. Like I said, organized.

You can order a lot of drinks at once, and in our case we recieved a small bottle of Absolute Vodka and two tiny pitchers of red bull. If you want x amount of beers you get a small keg-looking pitcher, spout and all.The club we went to is the one that Marcia works at, so there were a lot of perks tonight. Many free drinks (it was her birthday), and the tour was grand indeed.

There are three separate areas to the bar, each absolutely massive. They played a lot of stuff that was popular two years ago (Rap, Hip-Hop) and some popular German hits. I loved it.

Still hiccuping, which can't be good. Very tired and my voice is officially shot to hell.

Tonight was a lot better than I expected.

Cooking

God, my cooking has gone downhill since I've been here. It was like leaving my daily five-hour viewings of Food Network progams took away any talent I had. This will change, dammit. I refuse to eat this so-called 'food' anymore.

Now where the hell is a can of beans and a zucchini?