Sonntag, 21. Oktober 2012

On making horcruxes.

Maybe we should go back to a time where people didn't have the option to move away from their hometowns and to all corners of the earth in pursuit of dreams, friends, love(r)s, lives, happiness, self-fulfilment, freedom...or simply jobs.
I'm aware this might not be a very popular opinion.
But here's the thing:
Each time I move, I leave part of my soul and my heart behind. And quite frankly, I'm sick of it.
I've done my share of moving over the years. I spent 19 years there, one year there, seven years there, one more year there, now six years here... Every time I tried to build a new life, be open, make an effort to settle in, to fit in, to make new friends, to weave myself a little safety network of people who ideally might catch me if I fall or simply be available for coffees, chats and dvd-nights in.
And it's certainly doable, in some places easier than in others. It might happen without you really noticing or  take a huge amount of effort, of trial and error.
And then at some point, for some reason you have to move. Or feel you have to move. Or think you should move but cannot face the idea of having to start from scratch. But that's only half of it. What I really cannot face is leaving people behind. Again.

How many ways can you split a soul? Seven seems to be the currently accepted number. It's been done. But parallel universe precedence also tells us that it is not recommended. At all. That it ought not be attempted. Even, or especially, if you place those pieces of your soul not into inanimate objects but something as fragile as other human beings.

So here I am, stuck in the middle of all those worlds I have so far been part of.
It's a case of being overwhelmed by the mere idea of having to start over.
It's a case of wanting to belong somewhere. Of putting down roots. (But where? Heaven forbid if I choose the wrong place!)
It's a case of ultimate indecisiveness. Of wanting to feel complete. And of the realization that apparently that's not gonna happen.

Samstag, 2. Juni 2012

Fight fright with flight.

I'm trying hard to be philosophical about this whole endings and new beginnings thing, you know, doors closing, windows opening... all that. But today was another bad day where it all just seemed too much to handle and I'm caught in this useless limbo between heartracing panic and pillar-of-salt freeze.
So, let's forget about sordid reality for a bit and instead watch this video that I find strangely soothing:



As usual, my not so subconscious subconscious reacts by cooking up a corny little melody and some rhymes. I won't go so far as to say that it has self-healing powers, but at least it's distracting:

Like the swallow in the sky
waiting for summer
Like the seagull way up high
wants the wind to be stronger
Like the blackbird needs the dawn
to come before it sings
Like those starlings on the lawn
you've got to spread your wings.

Dienstag, 1. Mai 2012

Mayday, mayday!

And so it begins. The end of something. I'm not quite sure what to say. I've had a week to let it sink in, but somehow the shock doesn't seem to get old. This is some naive behaviour from someone with a temporary contract. I really, really thought that things would continue as before. That just as in the previous years the principal, the education office, someone would magic up a new contract for me. Because - all hassle of over-the-summer-payment from a couple of years ago put aside - that's how it always worked. How soon you forget! The times they are a-changing: there's a new principal, a new education office, new policies and no someone (i.e. someone pregnant) to rescue me this time round. And here we are, with - what? - seven more weeks of business as usual before that ugly, slimy monster unemployment will raise its seven heads. Seven weeks, and already everything feels different. The details will have to keep for another time. For now, just some random thoughts: I feel sad, confused, disappointed, angry, frustrated, tired, overwhelmed by the tasks ahead, unable to cope. I don't want to leave my students so suddenly (well, not all of them anyway). I don't want to have to organize applications in the middle of my exams, write CVs, scan adverts for substitute teachers in impossible remote towns, advertise myself in letters, wait, get my hopes up, get rejected, start over again. I don't want to face the financial implications of having to apply for the dole in case nothing comes up. I don't want to start those movies in my head of a range of worst-case-scenarios of having to give up my flat, move back home, of constantly not knowing what is going to happen next month ('cause that's how substitute jobs work). But most of all I don't want to leave my school right now. I was meant to have another year before having to say goodbye. And I don't want to leave in this haphazard, half-hearted, lukewarm way. Without a proper goodbye, because they will tell me that maybe, maybe someone might get ill and that they'd love to take me back in that case because they desperately need me for English. There will be a final-day-of-work, three weeks before the end of term (don't ask), and then possibly (be a good girl, fingers crossed) they'll be able to keep me on for three more weeks until the holidays. Or possibly not. But I will get no proper chance to say goodbye, and no Thank you. I will simply disappear, not be there the next morning. I know this will sound silly to you, but it seems somehow very important right now. Contrary to what you might have deducted from my years' worth of rants and anecdotes and contrary to what I will say tomorrow round lunchtime after a handful of lessons and two dozens mini-fights: I really, really like my job. And most of my students. And most of my colleagues. It's the end of the world as we know it.

Sonntag, 25. März 2012

Schubert&Haydn, Jupiter&Venus, Shoes&Varnish.

Yep, I think in a nutshell that's it.

Oh alright, so in February and March the first set of final exams hit home. Big time. I think the best thing that can be said about them is that apparently both Schubert's and Haydn's works are so indestructably brilliant that even months of reading about and listening to the same pieces over and over and mindlessly learning semi-scientific essays off by heart couldn't do them any harm. Of course, a talented, handsome performer might also help in securing one's lasting admiration...

The only other realisation worth of notice for me is that the brain is a marvellous thing. All questions of sense and nonsense of learning two whole essays by heart, verbatim, just to reel off one of them in a designated time slot in an examination hall put aside, I still find it strangely comforting to know that - if the worst comes to the worst - my brain is still able to process, retain and reproduce at will any load of gibberish (in this instance 12 pages of printed text) within three days. I've often wondered how actors cope with such amounts of text, but obviously it's possible. Even if I spent those days freakishly worried that if anyone approached me with any kind of information not relevant to the exam, this one piece of information might just push one of those painstakingly memorized sentences over the edge of my hard drive and into oblivion.
Which - surprise - didn't happen and I'm glad those two exams are over. Ready for more fun to come. In a little while.

After that whole circus it seems that for now I've navigated into calmer waters. Jupiter and Venus are still hanging out companionably in the evening sky (a sight which always makes me happy, no matter what - I know, I'm weird that way...), spring has finally come, the sun is out, the trees have their first touch of green back, the first blossoms are in sight (yet my personal hayfever season is still a little way off, yay!) and the girls and I have succumbed to a mild (ahem) bout of shopaholicism and general girliness. At this very moment I have a different kind of varnish on each nail of my left hand and can't decide which of them will provoke the most (silly, pitying, admiring?) remarks by my students on Tuesday.
Hm, tricky...

Dienstag, 7. Februar 2012

Die Sache mit dem Spiegel.

Das Konzert war eindeutig das Highlight meiner letzten Woche. - Nun gut, möchte man einwerfen, gegen eine Stress-lass-nach-oder-kommst-du-etwa-erst-noch?-Erkältung anzutreten, ist vielleicht auch nicht wirklich schwer. Gisbert war trotzdem super. Und das Lied ist sowieso ganz weit oben.

...Und weil ich aber gerade gelernt habe, was das denn so genau mit den Urheberrechtsbestimmungen aus sich hat, ist das Video dann mal besser nicht hier... ;-)

Sonntag, 29. Januar 2012

Swapping.

Heard you say
"Time to stop feeling sorry for yourself!
Just get a grip and think how great a life you've got.
I wish it was mine."
Well, maybe now it's time to make you
eat those words.
Maybe it's time to start swapping.

Wanna swap places with me?
I can't recommend it -
What the heck - come inside and see!
Need to drop
those habits that were years in the making,
so stop,
stop judging me
unless you'll swap.

So come on inside and have a good look around.
Do you like what you see?
Ain't it funny how things can seem so comfy and nice
but are really just a nightmare looking out from inside...
How come you don't feel like swapping?

Wanna swap places with me?
I can't recommend it -
What the heck - come inside and see!
Need to drop
those habits that were years in the making,
so stop,
stop judging me
unless you'll swap.

Go on then, kick your shoes off and make yourself at home
If you can
Get used to the view - you'll get to see a lot of that!
Oh, and never mind that monster in the cupboard.
It just wants to play.
Now please, you said you'd be swapping!

Won't you swap places with me?
I can't recommend it -
What the heck - come inside and see!
Need to drop
those habits that were years in the making,
so stop,
stop judging me
unless you'll swap
places with me
I can't recommend it -
What the heck - come inside and see!
Need to drop
those habits that were years in the making.
Then stop,
stop judging me
if you won't swap.

Donnerstag, 12. Januar 2012

Prekär.

Da soll noch einer sagen, dass ich mich nicht gedanklich mit meinem Studium auseinandersetze. Okay, zugegebenermaßen unfreiwillig. Aber was tut man nicht alles für einen TN oder, wie es inzwischen heißt, 2 credit points... Und ein bisschen was ist ja auch tatsächlich im Kopf dabei rumgekommen. Das ihr mit Sicherheit uuuunbedingt lesen wollt. Na klar, versteh ich.
Bitteschön. Aber Vorsicht, mir ist an einer Stelle die schmierige Flasche mit den Metaphern aus der Hand gerutscht. Das krieg ich nie im Leben wieder alles sauber!

"Bourdieus Konzept der prekären Reproduktion hat bei mir einige Glocken der Wiedererkennung im Kopf zum Schallen gebracht.
Man hat mich ertappt, und damit stellvertretend meine ganze Generation. Wir fallen zu 100% in diese Umbruchszeit, in diese Generation der Jahrtausendwende. Wir konnten dem Wandel quasi zugucken.

Während meine älteste Schwester und ihre Mitschüler noch motiviert, selbstbewusst und vor allem selbstverständlich ihre Studien und Ausbildungen antraten – und in diesen Berufen dann auch tatsächlich erfolgreich arbei(te)ten, sah es bei meinem Jahrgang – und lagen auch nur 5 Jahre dazwischen – schon völlig anders aus. Wir fuhren augenscheinlich dieselbe Strecke, sind aber nicht an derselben Ausfahrt ausgekommen. Es gibt zwar natürlich immer noch etliche, die als Reisebürokaufleute, Ärzte oder Juristen völlig geradlinig ihren Lebenslauf verfolgen. Doch die Zahl derer, die sich von Praktikum zu Praktikum hangeln, um schließlich dann doch umzuschulen, oder die jahrelang mit einem 1,0-Abschluss in Geografie bei H&M jobben, um letztendlich resigniert ein Zweitstudium zu beginnen, ist beträchtlich. Ich bin da nur eins der vielen Paradebeispiele mit meinem Zweitstudium Lehramt (einem der letzten Refugien).

Die Reaktion der Älteren, vor allem der Elterngeneration, ist von Unverständnis geprägt. Dementsprechend sieht man sich ihnen gegenüber permanent in Rechtfertigungszwang. (Was unangenehm ist – wissen wir es doch vor uns selbst schon kaum zu rechtfertigen.) Es ist recht mühselig, und meist müßig, dem Onkel bei der Familienfeier zu erklären, dass man nicht aus Arbeitsscheu und Wankelmütigkeit heraus noch immer keinen „anständigen Beruf“ hat. Dass dieses Phänomen der, so scheint es, jahrzehntelangen Ausbildung nicht der eigenen Wunsch-Lebensplanung entspricht, sondern man von äußeren Umständen in sie hineinmanövriert wurde.

Wobei der Onkel mit dem Vorwurf der Wankelmütigkeit auch nur halb falsch liegt. Tatsächlich ist es diese große Ungewissheit, die uns selbst unsicher werden lässt. Von den wirtschaftlichen Gegebenheiten ganz abgesehen sind es nämlich mindestens ebenso stark die psychologischen Prozesse, die ins Wanken geraten sind. In dieser Welt der unbegrenzten Möglichkeiten sind uns sämtliche Handlungsmöglichkeiten anscheinend abhanden gekommen. Die große Freiheit hat uns nicht die Welt geöffnet, sondern uns ob ihrer Weite und Größe erstarren lassen, uns entscheidungsunfähig gemacht. Jeder ist seines Glückes Schmied, alles ist möglich, aber wir sind auch an allem selbst schuld, an unserem Scheitern oder Gelingen. Jeder kann sich seine Identität selbst basteln, muss es aber auch. Niemand nimmt uns die Entscheidungen ab. Niemand kann uns sagen, ob wir uns richtig entscheiden, wenn wir es denn endlich tun. Wer will ich sein? Wo will ich hin? Wo sollte ich hinwollen? Das Gedankenkarussell dreht sich. Der Schnee ist noch frisch, es sind kaum Spuren auszumachen, geschweige denn ausgetretene Pfade. Wir haben da ein Paket an Identitäts-, Selbstfindungs- und Entwicklungsaufgaben geschenkt bekommen, das unsere Eltern und Großeltern in dieser Größe und Sperrigkeit in den meisten Fällen noch nicht mit sich herumschleppen mussten. Und da stehen wir nun mit unserer großen Freiheit und wünschen uns nichts sehnlicher, als dass wir uns endlich einmal wieder auf etwas verlassen könnten.

Wir konnten dem Wandel zuschauen, oder zumindest dem Zerbröckeln der alten Selbstverständlichkeiten. Und müssen uns ihm nun stellen, um etwas Neues zu bauen, an dem wir uns dann vielleicht festhalten können."

Freitag, 6. Januar 2012

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

While the last song was stolen, this one's by me. Trying to channel that horrendous New-Year-low into something positive.

Montag, 2. Januar 2012

Puzzled.

At irregular intervals, about once or twice a year, I am gripped by the compulsion to do a jigsaw puzzle. The obsession always, without fail creeps over me at times when I'm snowed under with work and should really, really, seriously be trying to tackle the mountain of tasks ahead. But it can't be helped. I have to cave in to its power.
Of course there is a much more elegant way of looking at this:
Think of the soothing, healing effect of such a meditative activity: the single-mindedness it requires, the impossiblity of thinking of complicated, "grown-up" things while playing, the orderly, systematic way of progression, watching the picture grow steadily, the reward that lies in the completion after hours of diligent work, the complete uselessness of it (in the purely aesthetic sense of "All art is quite useless.").



Sometimes I wish life was more like such a jigsaw puzzle. I wish that if you felt something was missing, you'd only need to reorganize the pieces and sift through them systematically once more until you found the missing piece.



I wish we could all just have that faith, that confidence to believe that, really, all the pieces we need for a happy, complete life are already here inside us, just waiting to be found and fitted into their rightful place.



I wish we could recognize the beauty of the big picture even in the middle of chaos.

Dienstag, 13. Dezember 2011

Moonstruck.

I know, I know, it's been forever since I got round to posting anything here. And I won't even pretend to be able to catch up with the last three months in one fell swoop (whatever that is). It's not that I didn't have anything to write about - the stories and anecdotes were all right there in my head, and I kept thinking "ooh, you should write about that" and "you should share that picture". But you know how it is. Or maybe you don't, but since I'm basically talking to myself here, I do actually know how it is, of course.

Time's running through your hands
like water. Or sand.

Nevermind that now.
If you want to see some truly magical photos, look for the moon games by the French photographer Laurent Laveder.
...Inspiring a quodlibet of moonrelated songs in my head:
Fly me to the moon...
Ich seh den Mond und denk an dich...
Or maybe something slightly less romantic.

Dienstag, 20. September 2011

Autosuggestion.



Wer den Ton gefunden,
der im Grund gebunden
hält den Weltgesang,
hört im lauten Ganzen
keine Dissonanzen,
lauter Übergang.


Friedrich Rückert, 1838

Dienstag, 6. September 2011

In the green.


...als man sich schließlich entschied, den kompletten Flugverkehr einfach einzustellen, um den redlichen Bürgern künftig mehr betonierte Grünflächen zur qualitativ hochwertigen Freizeitgestaltung bieten zu können.


Ein Kompetenzteam aus hochmotivierten, bachelorierten Radebrechern tüftelte wochenlang an einer eingängigen, idiomatisch lupenreinen Chatchphrase...


Indes hatten sich übermütige Mücken mit einer Flasche Autan zugeschüttet und taumelten, irgendwas von Weltherrschaft murmelnd, der Abendsonne entgegen.


Während sie noch darüber nachsannen, wie man am besten Fischlaich als überteuertes Kultgetränk vermarkten könne...


...wurden einige Scherenschnittfiguren (vermutlich Austauschstudenten aus Origami) lebendig und spielten zu einer herzzerreißenden Serenade auf.


Nur ein Mann mit etwas steinerner Mimik ließ sich nicht erweichen und nörgelte "Ach, geh fort!" vor sich hin.


Aber vielleicht führte er auch nur Selbstgespräche.

Samstag, 27. August 2011

Multimedia.

Szene im ICE von Berlin nach Leipzig:

Eine Mutter sitzt mit ihren zwei Teenager-Kindern am Tisch mir schräg gegenüber. Sie sind auf dem Heimweg aus dem Kroatienurlaub. Die Tochter ist etwa 15, hat mp3-Stöpsel im Ohr und redet kaum. Der Sohn ist vielleicht 13, spielt mit seinem i-phone herum und redet ohne Punkt und Komma. Die Mutter schaut per Kopfhörer auf dem Laptop eine DVD. Offensichtlich ist sie genervt vom gelangweilten Sohn, der ihr in ihren Film reinquatscht. Sie nimmt einen Stöpsel aus dem Ohr und sagt zu ihm:

"Also, eine sehr schöne Kulturtechnik ist ja auch das Lesen..."

Donnerstag, 11. August 2011

Emm wie...

Mann, musst du 'ne Festplatte haben...

Kennt hier irgendjemand noch Meikel Mausegreis? Nein? Wirklich nur meine Schwestern und ich? Nun gut, wir dafür umso besser. Wir können auch 25 Jahre später noch recht lupenrein die halbe Schallplatte aufsagen. Ein recht selten gefragtes Talent, höre ich Sie einwerfen? Das wohl, aber umso bedauernswerter. Steckt doch so viel alltagsrelevante Weisheit darin...

- "Was hat ihr Herr Vater denn so gemacht?"
- "Er... hat im Bett gelegen... und darüber nachgedacht, ob er aufstehen soll."
- "Und was noch?"
- "Nun... er hat im Bett gelegen... und darüber nachgedacht, ob er aufstehen soll."
- "Sonst nichts?"
- "Mein Vater war eben sehr gründlich. (Für eine Maus.) Er hat sich die Entscheidung nicht leicht gemacht."

Freitag, 5. August 2011

Tag am Rhein.

Ein nicht erwarteter Sonnentag, ein ebenso unerwarteter Energieschub, ein Ausflug an den Rhein, eine überraschende Begegnung, ein Buch aus Kindertagen, ein Sonnenbrand, ein paar gute Gespräche und ein paar Kaltgetränke... - so geht's.




"Eine Ente aus weißer Watte hat am Himmel festgemacht.
Der Wind hat daraus einen Hund gemacht
und wieder ist ein schwerer Tag vollbracht..."

Mittwoch, 3. August 2011

...where angels fear to tread.

So there I was, soaring sky-high for a few days, free as a bird...


(in this case, free as a well-fed pigeon in a tourist-flooded Italian square)

...and, if the photos are anything to go by, extreeeeemely happy.

Like so.

But alas, fools are earthbound creatures. Once the head rush wears off, the thin air makes their lungs ache and gravity pulls them back down, down, through swirling clouds and some turbulences, down to the ground.

Touch-down may be a tad rough. But don't you worry about those bruises. Wear them like a talisman while they last. They will heal in no time at all. Then you'll find you're sorry they're gone.

Dienstag, 19. Juli 2011

Over easy.

We can't really let July pass without a single post, now, can we?
(general murmur of agreement) No, we can't have that.
Okay, agreed on that.
So... what's to tell?
Hm... (wrecking brain)
Um...any minute now...
Well, sunny side up - it's almost over!
Okay, enough with the egg-puns already.
I'll spare you the gory details of the inevitable, end-of-term song and dance at university, as well as the annual run-up to the holidays, kids becoming impossible, colleagues even more so, everyone's good and ready not to see the others for at least six weeks...
Yes, there was some nice stuff as well - that student of mine did a lovely job at rendering her version of Cohen's "Hallelujah" at the students' leaving ceremony, truly lovely voice... And I've finally managed to teach some of the older students that, yes, I am indeed open to bribery in form of chocolate...
But apart from that, it's the same as every year, only this tiny bit worse because of the extra music stuff I got to do, so I am just a tad stressed out, or so my body tried telling me, giving off little hints like heartburn (which I chose to ignore) and now this charming little infection (which I chose not to ignore but bombard with a quick course of antibiotics)...

Anyhow, forget it all, it's more or less all over now, and as of Friday, I'll be off on holiday!!! Gee, can't wait for a little bit of freedom and adventure and air and sunshine...
Catch you later!