Happy Holidays!

Things I Wanted to Know before Dying

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Here I go with the Mayan end-of-the-world drama again.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I like making lists, and pretending I'm going to die tomorrow gives me a good excuse to make more lists. Plus, my penchant for trying to make things sound as exciting as possible (which I typically fail miserably at) means I'm a sucker for sensationalism.

So, if I pretend that I am going to die tomorrow, here are some things I would be sad about not ever finding out:

• Who is the mother of Ted Mosby's children?
• Was Django Unchained as good as it was supposed to be?
• Who wrote me that cryptic Facebook message before I moved back to Germany?
• Does Nicholas Brody ever make it to Canada?
• How much wood could a woodchuck really chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
• Why has my asthma been so bad the last year? / Why has a large percentage of my body flat-out given up on me?
• Where is the best place to buy a good mattress that is both affordable and will last me for many years to come?
• Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?

Because I like Memes and Grumpy Cat

Homeless: Why Giving Calgary, Love of my Life, a Second Shot was Entirely Necessary

I suppose it's kind of difficult to explain why I wanted to move back to Calgary in 2010 without you all (or most of you, anyway) knowing why I loved it there in the first place. This is probably because I haven't shared my coming-of-age story of the years 2006-7 with you yet, so let me break down the basics for you:

• I lived by myself for the first time.
• For the first time, I worked at a job I loved (and many I hated).
• I met three people who would invariably change the course of my life.
• It's when I caught the "dream big" bug.

Background: I hated Germany the first time I visited in 2004. Okay. Maybe hate is not the right word. I was okay with it, but I was desperately homesick, even though our vacation was only for three weeks. When we touched down back in Canada, though, I saw the world I lived in through new eyes, and I wasn't entirely fond of what I saw. It sure wasn't an immediate plan of mine, but I knew I wanted to go back to Germany. It was a gut thing.

Like it always does, life got in the way. After finishing college, I moved to Calgary and loved it. The best way to describe my "decision" to leave Calgary in 2007 is that it was premature. I was at the end of my rope and was 99% I'd never be able to make ends meet in a way that I could continue my life there. So, I went back home, gave up and hated it rather than actually trying to tough it out and possibly fail doing so.

I figured then it was just as good a time as any to move to Krautland. I had originally wanted to do my BA (in German and French, what a joke) and then move over, but I had put off university for so long -- what was another year or two?

So I came.

And all the while, I wondered if I had made the right decision. The move to come to Germany for a year was looking more and more permanent, and I was in a panic. Every time I went back home on vacation, I felt the pull getting stronger and stronger. I didn't want to be in Germany any more, I wanted to be home in an environment I knew and trusted with people I knew and trusted.

Most importantly, though, the whole prematurely leaving Calgary thing was eating me away. When I first moved away and back to my dad's in 2007, every time I would go back to spend time with an ex and my bestie, the fact I was away from Calgary would crush me. I spent as much time in Calgary/on the QE2 as I did at home. When I went back on visits from Germany, I'd spend as much time in Calgary as possible, wanting little more to be stuck on Crowchild in rush hour (a quick perusal through Toytown will introduce you to the fact many expatriates run around with rose-coloured glasses permanently glued to their faces).

DID YOU MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICE?? DID YOU??

Despite the fact I'm one to normally make quick decisions, I rarely regret them. In fact, this is really the only one I've ever, really regretted. And it ate me alive. I do not do well with regret.

I was back home in November 2009. And it was then I decided to give Calgary another shot. Not because I was sure I'd actually be happy there, but because I needed to know if I'd missed anything.

Typical rookie expatriate mistake (and an expensive one, at that), but it was worth absolutely everything.

(I am also the kind of person who handles bad news significantly better than no news.)

It was the question that tormented me for three years that I needed answered, and asking it (even though the answer ended up being the one I wanted least) was the smartest decision I've ever made.

In all honesty, it was also kind of interesting reliving history in a way, though it was more like "My History -- The Depressing Version".

• I found my feet again with the official status of "Person Living Alone".
• I worked at a job I loved.
• Those three people who invariably changed my life the first time did not fail in solidifying their places as three of the most important people I've ever come into contact with.
• I caught the "dream bigger" bug.

Obviously, it didn't work out and I left. Again. I miss it there and I miss spending time with those three people. I do wish it had turned out differently. With all my soul, I've never wished anything so much. But, alas, that's the way it turns out sometimes, and even though I was unsuccessful in rectifying my mistakes (if that's ever even possible), giving things a fair chance was a good choice.

It also highlighted the difference a location can make on my general life feelings, and the fact if I don't love the city I'm in, I'll be a miserable wench. (See my weekly ramblings on this blog for examples *ahem*.)

Happy Last Week of Life, Everyone

 So, how have you been spending the last week of your life?

I've been working on my Master's thesis as per normal, and plan to spend the week working my little tushie off to save enough overtime hours to enjoy a mini-vacation until January 7th. Which, of course, is all for naught since we'll all be dead by Friday.

Speaking of which, I have a question...

I live in Germany. My family lives in Canada. Does this mean I die eight hours before they do, or did the Mayans figure out some way for it to be December 21, 2012 in all the world at the same time to flip the switch? Or are we all gonna be blown to smithereens one time zone at a time?

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

For the land of Christmas, Germany doesn't go very all-out on the decorations the way we North Americans do. Sure, some people string lights across their balconies or put those little candle-light things in the window, but the full on house-framing, outdoor-tree-decorating, reindeer-on-the-lawn/roof stuff is largely missing from German Christmas decorating.

You know how I know I've been here too long?

I was taking the bus home last night (because I got on the wrong train since I was engrossed in my book, but that's a different story), which is always a nice thing around Christmas because you get to see house decorations on the non-main roads. So, I was looking at the lit stars and candles in the windows, when I saw a couple of trees in the yards strung with lights.

It must be a testament to how rarely that happens, because two things went practically simultaneously through my head:

1. "Huh, you don't see that every day."
2. "Are people even allowed to do that?"

Now, upon reflection of that stupid second question, the only thing I could think was why wouldn't people be allowed to put lights on the trees outside? The little voice in my head remarked "possible fire hazard"? Which, of course, makes absolutely no sense. After all, this is the country where a few good people still insist on putting real candles on their Christmas trees, while much of the rest have those electric candle lights full with melted-wax look in a safe attempt to mimic the real thing.

The thing that worries me is that my first reaction was "Is that verboten?!"

Who's officially eingedeutscht?

I am! Me! Me!

Thanks, Phil

Hooo, back in the day when I was a married person, my ex and I used to watch the Philip DeFranco Show on YouTube. I'll be the first person to admit that I hate 99.987% of YouTube personalities due to their annoying... personalities. Somehow, though, the weirdo mix of news on PDS has always made me happy, and though I don't agree with a significant amount of what is said on the show, it's still something I tune into at least once a week. Maybe out of habit. Or because I then have a 43% chance at laughing. One or the other.

Let's be honest here. As a mid-twenties-something, I'm at the awkward age of being too young to know what real life is all about (according to the older set anyway, which I suppose is true), yet I've gathered enough life experience (read: survived enough crap) to have little to nothing in common with the younger set. So, I'm brushed off as being inexperienced at life without being inexperienced enough to revel in my ignorance.

So, here's a nice video about someone else revelling in their mid-twenties-something madness...

I mean... I don't really find anything he says to be extraordinarily ground-breaking or answer-giving, but it is nice to every so often hear a voice from the mid-twenties set that makes me know I haven't completely lost it.

You know, solidarity and all that.

Leggings are not Pants

Well, it's a typical "winter" day in NRW today. Cold, rainy and dark. It's the kind of day I'd just like to curl up with some hot chocolate, a blanket and a good book. I've left out the obligatory fire in the fireplace mostly because I don't own a fireplace (electric or regular) and I've found that wishful thinking of something you can't have only increases your desire of it.

So: hot chocolate, book and blanket.

Unfortunately, just because the weather is crappy doesn't mean the world stops turning, which by extension means I have uni and work as per usual.

That said, my brain seems to have some desire to let me out of the house in sweats and a sweatshirt. Which, I mean, were I still in Canada, would be completely acceptable university attire. Since, however, I am in a land where sweatpants are normally not seen as acceptable wear for out-of-house (excluding for the Asis, I suppose), the mind automatically moves to leggings.

I mean, I understand that leggings are not pants.

Technically.

But that doesn't stop them from being my weekend wear since I won't get crazy looks for wearing them on the way to the grocery store or the post office like I would if I ran around in sweats.

So, I literally stood in front of my closet in my leggings this morning, trying for what seemed like quite awhile to decide on a shirt that would both cover my ass (leggings are not pants!) and would create an outfit acceptable to show up to work in.

Yeah. The only combinations I could come up with were pretty soccer-mom-esque/pulled straight out of the 80s.

I put a shirt on, all the while the "Leggings are not pants!" in my voice was getting louder and louder.

So, I gave up. Normal pants, but with the shirt I tried to combine with leggings just moments before. "But you wore this shirt with leggings dozens of times before!!!" says the little counter-voice in my head.

For a female who normally doesn't care too much about what she looks like (I know it shows), my battle with leggings sure makes me feel like a teenager again.

Bah.

I could use that blanket, hot chocolate and book more than ever right now.