Life in the Rainforest

Blame Canada!

No, blame me!!

No matter where I am, that's where there's a guarantee of crappy weather! Don't believe me? Germany's last heat wave was when I was sitting through the non-summer in Calgary a few years back. By non-summer, I mean I still had my seat warmer on in August. Winter last year was unseasonably cold. No matter, though -- as soon as I took off to Canada, Cologne warmed right up and I headed into an abyss of -50. Now, Canada's got a heatwave, and I live in a rain forest.

I don't actually mind the rain. I mean, sure, I would prefer to see some summer before the rain starts in the fall. Oh... wait, never mind. But this isn't about how I hate the unpredictability/extremeness of weather.

Welcome to how I spend my days in the rain forest!

• The nice thing about summer is not having laundry pile up when you are waiting for the previous load to dry on the rack on the balcony. It's been five days, though, and everything is still damp out there. I may as well give up on that one...
• I took Maxie to the vet yesterday. As usual, he was not impressed at the notion of needles. I was not impressed by the fact it started pouring as we walked from the train stop to the vet (and only then was it raining, mind), so I got to lift a wet/dirty Maxie onto the cold metal table, and try to hold a wet/dirty Maxie in place while the vet poked around. Ironically enough, Maxie was so pissed off from the stethoscope, he didn't even notice when he got his booster shot. Until he spent the rest of the day crying and limping around like a wuss, that is. Nice.
• I don't believe in rain gear. I've lost my third umbrella, and I just give up. The cheap ones just turn inside out in the rain, and there's no way I'm spending 40 yoyos on an umbrella I'm liable to lose within a couple of months. It's this exact same reason I don't buy sunglasses that cost more the 7 yoyos. I've also twice tried out the concept of rain boots to avoid sock-changing before going out after walking Maxie, but they go bust so quickly, it's not even worth the money. Also, people get wet when they go in the shower. Why are we so against getting wet in the rain? Das war aber viel auf einmal!
• When I take Maxie out to go to the bathroom when it's raining, he will inevitably prance through the mud, and then stand in the grass with a confused expression on his face for an extreme amount of time rather than just doing his business. If I ask him what's taking him so long, he looks at me defiantly.
• I'm glad the water level went down the last couple weeks on the Rhein. I was starting to worry that it would flood out to the point I'd have to find a new walking-route for Maxie and me. It looks as if this may be once again a concern of mine, and I thought I was off the hook until September. Ha. Ha.
• Too much rain, too few thunderstorms.
• Nevertheless, rain is a good excuse for hot chocolate. Bring on the cocoa, baby!!

No, We're Not Actually Nice

This morning, whilst checking my news feed on Facebook, I got a little upset.

You see, a friend of mine has proclaimed love for the United States because of how friendly everyone is there.

(Dear friend: I'm not being a passive-aggressive Kraut by bitching about you on my blog behind your back. I really actually was going to write a condensed version of this on your post, but I figured that may have created quite the negative reaction. So there you go.)

We all like stereotypes. I know I like stereotypes. (Didya see my super-sneaky use of "passive-aggressive Kraut in the above paragraph?) Back in my days of Social Psych, before I finally got my head around the fact I suck at multiple-choice exams and thus would never make it successfully through a Psych degree, we learned all about how necessary for our tiny little pigeon brains it is to stereotype, since if our brains would overload and explode if they had to always process new information every time they came across it.

Or something to that effect.

But anyhoo, I am fully aware stereotypes are sometimes true, sometimes not true, sometimes wacky. But I digress.

Americans are not friendly, just like Canadians are not nice and Germans are not passive-aggressive (unless, of course, they are engaging in Nachbarkrieg... just some samples from distressed expats). I mean, some Americans are friendly, some Canadians are nice, and some Germans (damn skippy) are passive-aggressive.

From a Canadian (which, if you ask anyone except Canadians, may very well be taken as an American):

People aren't any nicer or friendlier in North America than they are elsewhere. They will, however, engage in copious amounts of small talk, smile a lot, and act overly polite when they mean anything otherwise. It's how we were raised.

Mother to Johnny: "Now, Johnny, that's not nice! Say you're sorry to the old man who stepped on your foot and complained about it! Wish him a nice day!"
Johnny to Old Man: "I'm sorry, Sir. I hope your day gets better." *through gritted teeth, wishing the old man nothing but a slow, painful death*

Okay, yeah, exaggeration, but whatevs.

Since we're gonna play the fun stereotype card today, I'll just come out and say that I actually like that most Germans don't get friendly-friendly with you right from the beginning. Then you know where you stand. If a German gets nice with you, you know that you've made a friend. In Canada/US, if someone starts getting snippy with you and being a general jerkface, you know you've made a friend because now you get to see what they're really like. I guess I've been gone long enough that, when I'm back home on vacation and a teller/cashier is nice to me, all they get is a bewildered look back that says, "Hey, dude, why are you smiling at me? I don't wanna be your friend!"

Okay, moral-of-the-story time.

Americans are not nicer than anyone else. They're just pretending to be. Don't be fooled by appearances. It's all just a different social game than over on the other side of the ocean, and it's a facade.

Thank you for your time.

Hartz IV-Empfänger

Ahhh, the end of the semester!

I know it's not actually the end of the semester (I have way too much to do in the next three days for that), but today is officially the first day where my alarm clock went off, as usual, for Monday morning class and I got to grumble, "Heh, heh, FU."

Speaking of which, I should probably turn the clock off so I don't have the same thing next week when it actually is semester break.

Anyhoo, I like summer break for a lot of reasons. I mean... it's not actually a break, but it's still fun to change my sleep schedule from early-up and early-bed to medium-early-up and late-bed. Morning person as I am, I write best at night, which kind of cramps my Grandma-style-in-bed-by-9 thing I have going on during the semester. All that extra time also means I can twiddle my thumbs all day and not feel guilty about it, knowing I'll be working six to eight hours straight that evening. It also usually means trips to Finland (though that comes later this year), but does definitely mean a visit from my Momma!!

Here's a potpourri of why I like summer:

• Even when the weather's bad, it's not -20 and snowing.
• Crappy weather? No problem. I love walking in the rain, as long as it's not to class.
• The sun is still shining a long time, but not obnoxiously till 23:00.
• I get really productive because I can write nights.
• Even though I actually end up working more than during the semester, since rarely have anything jamming up my schedule, I can work when I want to, which is far more relaxing.
• Maxie is happy because I am with him almost every day.
• I am happy because I get Maxie snuggles most of the day almost every day.
• Ice cream
• Fruit is on sale at the supermarket. Nectarines 750g for 89c! Woowoo!!!

And, for good measure, why I like this summer in particular:

• I no longer live in the 'hood, so there aren't children running around screaming all night in the streets. This means I might actually get to write something, and who knows? Maybe I'll even be more productive!
• I may have to do that statistics course, but I'm also working on two books (authoring articles for both and editing for one), which makes me feel like one of those "productive" members of society that somehow lives with a purpose.
• My Mooma is coming! My Mooma is coming!
• You know the other reason. And therefore know why I'm not running around, publishing it on my blog. I made that mistake on Facebook already. Oh the horror!!

The only thing I don't really like about summer break is taking Maxie out to do his business in the mornings. When I'm up during the semester (sometime between 5:30 and 6:00), I feel like a normal (read: productive) member of society who is just taking their dog out to do their business in sweats before getting off to work to feed the tax machine. It's kind of embarrassing, though, going out with crazy hair and sweats at 7:00 in the morning while everyone is already on their way to work in their fancy cars.

Last year, I'm pretty sure the neighbourhood thought I was a Hartz IV recipient. (For my non-German friends, see here.) I mean, when I first moved in, I was gone reasonable hours that ensured I could have at least been going to some kind of part-time job. Summer, though? Ha. I was always around. And the neighbours always were staring when Maxie's morning business became a later and later event. (I lived in a village. This is what people do, amirite?)

I mean, I suppose I could argue they were the Hartz IV-Empfänger since they were spending the day watching and criticizing me.

But, whatevs.

New city, new neighbours to think I'm a lazy git on Hartz IV.

I wish... I'd be living the high life compared to this. (Minus the random and impulsive trips across the globe, of course. It'd suck to give those up.)

Happy summer break, friends! (Yeah, not yet, but you all know how I like jumping the gun...)

A Student's Rant

I've been a student for a long time. I've been in and out of university for the better part of eight years, which is pretty much all of my adult life. I did, of course, take some time off to work, too. (Oh yeah, and move to Germany)

I had a situation a couple of weeks back where someone I know said to me that students have it so easy. We don't really do anything, and we just basically live life like one big party. The real hard thing in life, according to this person, is working at a real job, and not some part-time, twenty-hours-per-week sort of gig while "studying" on the side.

I really took offense to that. I mean, sure, there are students who don't do much else other than sit around, go to lectures occasionally, work occasionally, and party a lot. Maybe because I finished my four-year BA in around two years and am now a graduate student, I don't really get what the undergraduate student experience is really supposed to be all about. I do know my fair share of people who don't do a heck of a lot and manage to squeak by somehow.

But the thing is, I find such an attitude detrimental to those of us who are working fucking hard for our degrees. I have friends who go to school full-time, work those twenty-hour-per-week gigs (and why doesn't this count as "real" work, exactly?), and still somehow manage to get great grades. They're also always really fucking busy.

Then there are people like me. You know what? I don't work. (Oh no! The horror!!) I study full-time, and I'm taking sociology courses on the side so I can become a better social historian. And statistics classes, to boot. No, I don't work. For money. I work my fucking ass off, reading, on average, at least one textbook a day and aim to write at least 1000 words of text for some paper I've got on the go. Every. Single. Day. Yeah, I sit around and watch Mad Men. I also take my dog for a walk for at least an hour a day. And I spend at least a regular eight-hour working day filled with schoolwork.

The difference between my day and your working-life day?

You get up, go to work, and go home. Then you have "you" time. I get up, dilly dally, go to university, get home, dilly dally, write, read on the train, and work some more. You work five days a week. I work seven.

I am always on the go. Always.

I know it may seem like this, but I'm not actually trying to go on a "studying is worse/harder than working" rant. I don't think that distinction is possible. I just think it needs to be acknowledged that they're so different.

I mean, I get it. I've worked your standard 37.5 hour a week gig before. It's not easy. You have a fixed schedule, are chained to your work and often end up counting down the seconds till you can log off your computer and go home. Working destroys your soul. Students, in contrast, can work whenever the hell they feel like it (showing up for classes excepted) and can fly off on vacation at a whim. Although it's not recommended, it's entirely possible to do absolutelyfuckingnothing for three weeks and then cram everything into seven days. I admit this one of the things I like best about being a student -- the flexibility. But the price of that flexibility is that you're always working. And when you're not working, your planning and thinking about the work that needs to be done. Or procrastinating, I guess admit.

In fact, when I was working a "normal" job, I was so used to student life that having two days every week to myself without anything that had to be done was extremely strange. It was uncomfortable. It was so uncomfortable, in fact, I signed up for classes at a distance university just so I would have something to do with all that time.

Yes, I know most people aren't weirdos like me.

While I would agree (to a point) that working for pay can be more exhausting than studying, mostly due to the time constraints and restrictions (Would I sit at my computer and study for eight hours straight with two fifteen-minute coffee breaks and a half-hour for lunch? No.), you get time for yourself in big blocks of time, which is something students don't get.

I'm talking about the student experience right now, not because I don't believe the other side isn't difficult, but because I think our side needs to be brought to light every so often. Especially when people think we sit on our asses and twiddle our thumbs all day. Or, rather, get drunk and boink all day. Man, wouldn't that be the life?

And as a response to the disbelieving remark of "Don't you work?!"

You know what I did today?

I woke up at 6:30am, handed in a paper to a professor, wrote up and e-mailed my theses for my upcoming oral exam to my professor, read a textbook, cleaned the flat, studied for my oral exam, took the pup for a walk, had lunch (at 5:00pm, mind you), and wrote a book review. It's now 10:00pm.

Did my "work" day include more than eight hours of work? Probably not.

But it's been a long-ass fucking day, and that's how almost all of my days go. As do other students'.

So please stop berating us.

We're working hard, too. (And who says we can't take a day or two off every so often, either? You get two a week!)

Goodbye, Hobo Flat!!

Today I gave up my flat. Lucky for me, I got out of the contract because it's in desperate need of renovation, and the sooner they gut the place, the sooner they can rent it out for an escalated price. Important for me, though, is that I don't have to pay double rent anymore. Yay!

I am definitely in love with my new flat, and the only thing I was fond of about my old, hobo one was that since it was in the sticks, no religious nutters came to the door. Actually, that's not true. Those Catholic children with the little signs for the doors came last year. It was heartbreaking shutting the door in their sad little faces when I said I didn't want a sign, but you do what you gotta do, I guess. (That is hide behind the door and pretend you're not home, I mean.)

I'm trying to say that leaving was bittersweet, but it wasn't actually. It was just sweet. On a sentimental level, I'm happy to leave behind the dashed dreams and rotten memories (except for a few, of course). On a practical level, I'm happy to no longer be in a flat with crazy humidity regardless of how much I air the place, and I'm pumped I have a balcony and no longer have to lean out the window like Krauts do in the Dorf. It's cool that the walls in my new place are even and I don't have to deal with a crooked ceiling/floor anymore. I'm also grateful my neighbours here keep to themselves and neither blast the TV all night nor have loud sex at 5:00 in the mornings. I mean, I did hear someone going at it last night around 20:30, but at least that's a reasonable hour.

Still, I don't like saying goodbyes, no matter how happy I am to leave. (Imagine what it's like when I don't actually want to leave!) But here I am, moving on again. I actually already did, but you know. Trying to be bittersweet. Nope? Still not working?

Okay, let's throw a party then, because I no longer have neighbours who, when I clean my windows, remark that they thought I already moved out and wanted to know why I was still in the flat. Creepers. I don't miss you, particularly because I was becoming Dorf-mäßig after awhile like you and staring out the window all the time. You know you're becoming too German when...

Good thing I have a balcony that stares into some trees now!

Hallelujah, hobo flat is gone!