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!

How do you spell "um-bear-as-sing"?

Apparently, we must have had one of those magical blue moons over the weekend, because, lo and behold!, that most priced, lost-presumed-dead, shrouded-in-legend bloody document has turned up again! Either that, or I simply have the world's most selfless, patient, long-suffering of all friends, who not only insisted on sacrificing a whole Saturday for me to meticulously scrutinize every single piece of paper in my posession in search of the legendary document,
she also found it!!!
Just like that! (Well, after about four hours.)
And she even has the grace to not rub it in (too much) on every conceivable occasion, but to just be happy that "we" found it and that she could be of help!
Incredible.
I know I would never ever shut up about it if I was in her place. What a sad little lunatic I am! (No news there.) Because apparently the papers (not one but, in fact, four of them - my eyewitness accounts obviously aren't worth a farthing!) were, after all, in that most likely of all folders all along. In the one with all the reeeaally important university stuff, in a clear, plastic sleeve, but alas, unfortunately camouflaged as something else.
Well, maybe best not to dwell on this any longer. Suffice to say that the monster has sulkily retreated back into its corner under the bed for now, gnawing at some left-over nightmares of mine.

Oh, while she was at it, my friend also found the original of my leaving certificate. You know, the one that was very, very definitely gone? The one I thought I had forgotten on a photocopier in Leipzig about twelve years ago? The one I caused a minor all-hands-on-deck situation at my old school over about three years ago? The one that provided the infamous precedence for the case above, proving that things can and do, in fact, disappear for good?
Yeah, that one.
(surreptitiously sidling off stage)

Anti-Climax.

After all these weeks of longing for the end of the semester and all that talk of how my resolutions would have to keep until then, of how I would completely start over, reorganize my life, start cooking and eating healthily again, get exercise, all that talk of postponing my real New Year's celebrations until this weekend and after making a big show of how I was going to round up everyone and go out and have the best time ever... I really would have expected to be feeling a lot more upbeat right now than I actually do.
As it is I'm having a hard time simply getting up and dressed, let alone implement any of those big-mouthed plans.
Amongst other things, I totally blame that conducting teacher of mine, who very definitely spoiled my mood by giving me a grade I don't think I deserve. Yes, I passed. And yes, who's gonna want to see that bloody certificate at the end of the day anyway? And yes, it's all water down the drain now, so stop being a sore loser. But I really feel unjustly judged. I truly did fairly well in that exam, not worse than most of the others anyway, so I deserve to get the same grade as they did. But apparently I'm under a misapprehension. I must have developed a sudden, strong case of overestimating my own capabilities.

Well, that's a first.

Anyhow. Following that unnerving and so, so irritating saying of "God grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference" I should probably pray for serenity and get started on that second bit, the one I have some power over. Like stopping buying all those deep-freeze pizzas and boldly venture into the fruit-and-veg-section of the supermarket again, now that I've the time again to actually cook something. Maybe energy and good humour will turn up, if I trick them into thinking they're already here.
What a cunning plan!

Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.

"We're all out of hope, I'm afraid", Pandora cried.
"Oh, and how do I get all this evil crammed back into the jar?"

* * * * *

This morning I was still lying comfortably in bed, pondering whether to just turn over for another hour, when - unannounced and most certainly unbidden - the monster under the bed blinked, yawned copiously, stretched its slimy tentacles, smacked its lips and crawled out of its lair, looking for trouble. We eyed each other warily for a couple of minutes as we usually do. But, unusually, it didn't blink first and retreated, nor was it to be appeased by the prospect of plenty of dust bunnies to play with (or chase and torture, if you will) back under the bed. The monster was bored and hungry for a few frayed nerves of mine and not to be brought around.
Bad news, that. But long overdue I guess.

So I eventually faced the unfaceable, did the undoable and touched the untouchable. Untouchable piles of paper, that is. About 13+ of them sprinkled about my flat - desk, shelves, kitchen table...

See, the obvious Plan A (i.e. simply tidy the whole sorry mess up and file away properly the important/useful things in neat, orderly folders for school, university, insurance and other bureaucratic stuff resepctively, then never allow similar pile-forming ever again) was simply so, so, so impossible to embark upon!
The mere thought of going through those paper mountains and not finding that one most important lost-presumed-dead "document upon which my ever graduating hangs" among them has proven horror-inducing and caused heart racing, stomach-clenching petrification...

Because of all that I had come up with a Plan B, and a straight-forward but marvellous one at that. I would simply not touch those stacks of horror. Instead I would pile stuff on top even higher, thus causing (in the very very long run, admittedly) the pressure and weight from the top layers to compress and condense the lower layers until they would finally turn into coal and crude oil.
Ingenious plan, I know. True masterminding.

But somehow the world around me doesn't seem ready for that much innovation and stubbornly insists on its old ways and on my coming up with said document (I won't even tell you what it is, it's too sad. Suffice to say I'm the world's biggest eejit.)
So here I am, three-quarters through those 13+ piles, after 4 hours of meticulously uncovering layer after layer archeologist-style, piece of paper after piece of paper with a symbolic little brush. And that one most priced piece of paper is not among them.
Which I suspected all along.
And, yeah, sure, you'll say that something doesn't just disappear. That it's bound to turn up, that it has to be there 'cause you wouldn't have thrown it out, would you?
No, I certainly would not. At least not knowingly. But things have got lost and stayed lost in the past, so I'm humbled by precedence.

Anyone any good at coming up with a Plan C (which obviously encompasses the persuading of university personnel to issue the bloody document again. Huh, fat chance! Think blue moons, camels and eyes of needles.)?


Oh, and what do I do with those 22 new, albeit very well-assorted, piles I created in the course of this morning's quest???

Do what you must do...

Long days,
even longer days ahead,
work piled so high that it seems almost useless to start at all,
a sore neck,
a twitchy eyelid,
palpitations even when lying down (especially then, really),
the head having no influence whatsoever over the body
once the body decided to be a big, fat drama queen.
And all over nothing.

So, time for bed I guess.
(And I've been meaning to watch that Doctor Who series with David Tennant anyway...)

Offside in sight, inside out of sight.

True, I haven't been on the talkative side lately. For starters it's that time of the year again when the usual suspects are making more demands on me and my time than I care for. It's rolling-the-dice-time for the summer term reports and the inevitable heaps of last-minute tests. At the same time, it's the hot (indeed, haha) phase at university too: exams, recitals and more recitals looming just behind the next World-Cup-flag-adorned corner. And again I'm at that point where my body is gently trying to tell me that its battery is worn down. I feel like an old woman in the GP's waiting room the way I find some new ailment to complain about every single day. When really I'm just tired.
Then of course I have my work cut out trying to follow as many football matches as possible. Quite time-consuming that. And it turns out it's pretty hard to concentrate on finishing even one straight sentence here when every 35 seconds the commentator in the background is raising his voice in that drama-foreboding way that makes me switch over again and again to watch those Portuguese lose in the round of sixteen.
Oh, and in case you were wondering (or not): Yes, it's just about as hot up here under the roof as you might imagine. Not a sweat drop different from last year.

So, it's a matter of trying to hold on to as many brain cells as possible in this heat. When really all I'm waiting for is this:

Mayday.

So much to tell, so little time.
Feels like these days I'm only ever stopping by at my place to wave a quick hello to the dust bunnies (who feel quite at home at this point - I should start demanding rent money), drop one bag, pick up another and head out again.
So many things that don't get done.
Then again, so many things that did and do get done and would deserve their own blog entry if only I wasn't so damn tired - they've been written, rewritten and posted in my head already, such as:
- the first of May at home, those "merry" groups of people with birch-branch-adorned pull carts to wheel their beer crates through the countryside - and the memories of outings past... ;-)
- the Stockhausen concert at the Cologne philharmonics last night... Ah, I guess it's just as well I'm so tired because I'm lost for words anyway. Just listen to this. And this. And this. And don't you dare rustle or twitch in your seat, breathe too loudly or, god forbid, cough (!) into the silent parts!! And before and after the above, make sure you listen to this. (Extra merit points for those who can spot the anthem that is being quoted here.) And obviously this. (And again we play spot-the-anthem!) Only in reality the whole piece lasts 43 minutes. And they played it twice. (Yes, my thoughts exactly!) No, really, to say it with the words of Friedrich Baer in Little Women: "It's an experience."
Indeed. Without doubt.

Hurz!

Oh, the possibilities!

I hardly know how to tell you, but...
They renewed my contract!
And not only that, they extended it until June 2012! That's not this summer, nor the next, but the one after that!!! So, that's either benign forces at work, or... they made a mistake (but who am I to correct them up there?) or... they realized that I've long since been entitled to an unlimited contract anyway and decided to throw me a bone to keep me quiet. Probably that last option, but I don't care.
This is truly amazing, do you see that? It means I won't be thrown out of my health insurance like the three summers before and that I won't have to fight against the windmills of the invisible, unreachable Salaries Office like the three summers before, that I might actually get my money at the beginning of the new school year unlike the three summers before! Wow, I really don't know what I'm going to be doing with all that time suddenly on my hands...

Wrong all these years.

See, I've had this weird sore throat for weeks and weeks now and couldn't really give in to it because of the exams (not least of all the singing exam) and for the last few days it really hurt whenever I talked for any length of time. I guess "talking" is putting it mildly as far as what I do at school all morning is concerned. It had got lots worse since last night and this morning I had to start giving my classes written assignments because I couldn't muster the will to knowingly hurt myself by talking loudly. So this afternoon I spent three and a half not-so-happy hours in the waitingroom of my ear, nose and throat guy - otorhinolaryngologist, now there's a great new word for playing hangman! Anyways, he said the larynx wasn't inflamed as yet, but that I had a fundamentally wrong way of speaking that was ruining my voice and - helped by that lingering cold - causing the pain. Apparently I speak too far back in the throat (?), which gives the voice a pressed quality. Also I seem to breathe "unphysiologically". Oh, really? He referred me to a speech therapist. So there you go. Who knows, it might be useful. Heaven knows I have enough colleagues who struggle with chronic voice problems.
Only thing is, this long-term therapy may be all well and good but it doesn't solve the situation at hand with the pain and the having to teach six classes tomorrow.
In an ideal world, I could explain the problem to my pupils and they'd nod wisely and get down to doing their assignments quietly and diligently. (short pause for hysterical laughter)
In the real world, I won't even get to the point of explaining because it seems impossible to establish something resembling order and silence in order to explain anything without even a minimum of voice-raising.
Also, there's the added bonus of that new intern who asked me if he could tag along tomorrow. Yes, you can! And you can do all the talking for me, come to think of it. What's that? You've never stood in front of a class? Well, about time then... Over to you. Enjoy!

...
But I don't care 'cause sometimes, I said sometimes I hear my voice...

Well done, me?

Right, as of today: three exams down, two to go (both of them tomorrow, great...) and I'm ready to strangle some people. Some teachers, that is. Just now, one especially. Which is kind of paradox, being a teacher myself. Or maybe it isn't.
See, today was the written exam in music theory - you know, the stuff that's really going to save the day when I'll be teaching my ghetto kids, like how to avoid quint and octave parallels when composing a choral for four voices, that kind of thing. The class is held by this young Russian woman, and the style and speed with which she teaches is somewhat Russian too, if you get my drift. She assigns more homework than all my other courses put together and still I was by no means sure that I'd pass this bloody exam today. (Having failed the mock exam quite spectacularly.) In fact, I had already half made arrangements to repeat the course with another teacher next term, so I was over the moon to see that it went alright after all. I could do all the tasks and even had enough time for the extra tricky bit since I finished another task earlier than the others.
This afternoon before heading home I went in to see the teacher, because she always corrects the tests straight away.
And you see, I did really well. I mean, they don't give grades in these exams (you either pass or, well, not), but it would certainly have been a B+, because there were only three minor mistakes in the whole test.
But instead of saying "Ah, there you go, I knew you could do it. Just these three little hiccups over here, but apart from that: fine!", she actually gave me this sermon on how she thought I could do better, how she'd always thought I wasn't giving 100%, how these stupid, little mistakes annoy her and again how she really thought I could do more...
So I told her that if she knew what I did all week long, she wouldn't say such things. That I was in fact doing more, teaching etc. And she went: "Oh, really? How many hours do you teach? 14, is it? Well, I did 22 while I was studying." She wasn't even meaning to be extra-bitchy. I guess it comes to her naturally.
Well, she well and truly pissed me off. How dare she?!?! But what pisses me off even more is that I let this ignorant cow ruin my evening and my sense of achievement. [They did a similar thing last week in my oral exam. After a quick comment that content-wise I had done okay, they went on and on about how in future exams I might want to be a bit more formal - well, they'd offered chocolates to begin with! -, which kinds of phrases not to use - they actually quoted me! ...That, too, had been a fair bit deflating, but at least they'd had a point there (and a slightly sore one at that).]

I guess I should see the bright side of being on the receiving end of teachers' talk for a change. So here's a big mental note to myself, actually several, written in bold, black letters on oversized, neon pink post-its:
a) Don't run people down who are already down.
b) Don't insinuate laziness where people might actually have done their best.
c) Nagging never motivated anyone.
d) Whatever happened to "Well done!"?

As to criticism directed at me, I hereby return to my old maxim (in fact, I never veered away): If you want to criticise me, write in on a piece of paper and throw it in the bin.

High time for some down time.

Yesterday as I was sitting on the train to Cologne I was checking my pulse (just out of habit, some of you might remember that bit of unresolved quick-pulse trouble I had to deal with last spring). Anyway, there I was counting and finding it just a tad too quick for someone my age quietly sitting down. Surprise, surprise. So it got me thinking (ooh, always risky, that!). I was trying to remember...
When was the last time that I was completely and totally relaxed? I mean truly. With no guilty conscience because of all the work I haven't done yet, no exams lurking just around the corner that make me question myself and my abilities, no two worlds/jobs/roles tugging at me from opposite sides, no little monster on my shoulder ready to pounce when I dare to be lazy...
As you might guess, I couldn't really pinpoint that moment. Or rather, I could have, but it would have been too far in the past for comfort. So I decided not to.
Ah, such stuff as self-pity is made on... Or maybe I'm just exhausted.
On the bright side: This time next week I might just have one of those moments when there's nothing to dread.
And a good, long moment at that!

Count your blessings...

...when they're hatched.

Or was it chickens? Something along those lines...
I've been feeling a bit better these last few days. It's either down to those shooting stars I saw (eventually) and wished upon or to the fact that the end finally is very nigh indeed. Or the fact that I'm totally ignoring that pile of 90 English tests and managing to only feel mildly guilty about it. Or the fact that I've got all my christmas cards sent and presents bought/made and that all three top exhausting courses at university are no longer on next week and that now really all that's left to do for me is to sit through three more days of showing completely-christmas-unrelated movies to hyperactive pupils and handing round cookies. (FYI, it's "The NeverEnding Story" for the little ones and "Juno" for the bigger ones - although, now that I think about it: a 16-year-old girl getting pregnant does have a christmassy touch to it, doesn't it?)

Besides, it's pretty hard to feel down when you wake up to this:

Anyway, there's still some more crochet work to finish, which - laugh all you want - has a kind of soothing and therapeutical effect on me. Especially when accompanied by "Little Lord Fauntleroy", "A Christmas Carol" and "Little Women" in the background...

Now, spot the quote: "Evangeline and I will make you some ginger tea."

:-)

Molière und ich.

Der November gibt sich auch weiterhin alle Mühe.
Gestern 90min. Kleinkrieg mit ver-/gestörtem Fünftklässler. Klassen, in denen zum Teil bis zu 14 Kinder fehlen. Ein Mädchen, das erst fehlt, dann wieder auftaucht und dann wieder fehlt, diesmal mit der Zusatzinfo "Verdacht auf you-know-what".
Dann stinkende, wankende, tuchfühlungbegeisterte, alkoholisierte Piraten, Bibos, Pharaonen, Bezaubernde Jeanies, Frösche und Hippies in den Zügen, die meinen an St. Martin Karneval feiern zu müssen (Und kein einziger als St. Martin verkleidet! ...Bin ich hier wirklich richtig im Rheinland??).

Heute Spaß auf dem Bonner Hauptbahnhof:
"Wichtiger Sicherheitshinweis: Aufgrund eines herrenlosen Gepäckstücks fordern wir alle Reisenden auf, das Bahnhofsgelände umgehend zu verlassen."
Allgemeines verwirrt-genervtes Rumstehen direkt vor dem Bahnhof (wie zweckmäßig) - keine Absperrungen, keine ordnenden Polizisten in Sicht. Irgendwann bewegt sich der Pulk wieder rein und alle folgen. Weiteres Rumstehen am Gleis, weil der Zug nu natürlich dicke Verspätung hat (Wieso? - Ja, wieso nicht?!).
Ein vereinzelter Mann vom Ordnungsamt murmelt in sein Funkgerät "Hier sind Hunderte von Leuten auf Gleis 1, da brauchen wir Verstärkung zum Räumen." Man hofft, dass der Zug vor den Räumtrupps ankommt und übersetzt mal wieder für ausländische potentielle Fahrgäste ins Englische, was denn eigentlich gerade Phase ist, denn offensichtlich ist die Evakuierungsdurchsage noch nicht ins Sänk-ju-for-träwellink-Handbuch aufgenommen worden.
Immerhin: die Frau, die die Durchsagen macht, ist auch nicht geräumt worden und sie schafft es unseren Zug anzukündigen. Man möchte Beifall spenden, hält sich dann aber doch zurück.

All das, um dann schließlich kurz vor knapp nach hektischem Geradel durch den Dämmerungsnieselregen in der Uni zu erfahren, dass die Veranstaltung heute ausfällt und mir aber niemand Bescheid gesagt hat (obwohl/weil ich letzte Woche gefehlt hatte und die anderen sehr wohl informiert waren).

Von den viel zu vielen ignoranten Menschen auf den viel zu engen Gehwegen ganz zu schweigen. Denen, die es nie in Betracht ziehen, sich dem Fluss der Masse auch nur einen Hauch anzupassen, voraus- und auf die anderen zu schauen, minimal auszuweichen, um andere nicht abzudrängen, ihren Schirm ein winziges Stück zu heben oder zu neigen, um den Gegenverkehr nicht zu behindern... Hat man diese Leute heute alle zum ersten Mal zur Feierabendzeit auf die Straße gelassen??? Ist ihnen dieser theoretisch sehr gut mögliche Anpassungs-und-Ausweich-Reigen gänzlich unbekannt oder halten sie sich schlicht für etwas Besseres?
Und bin nur ich das, die dieser Egozentrismus wahnsinnig macht?

Was ist Pragmatismus?

Das ist Pragmatismus.

Beppo Straßenkehrer.

"Weißt du, Momo, es ist so:
Manchmal hat man eine sehr lange Straße vor sich. Man denkt, die ist so schrecklich lang; das kann man niemals schaffen, denkt man. Und man fängt an sich zu eilen. Und man eilt sich immer mehr. Jedes Mal, wenn man aufblickt, sieht man, dass es gar nicht weniger wird, was noch vor einem liegt. Und man strengt sich noch mehr an. Man kriegt es mit der Angst und zum Schluss ist man ganz außer Puste und kann nicht mehr. Und die Straße liegt immer noch vor einem.
So darf man es nicht machen.
Man darf nie an die ganze Straße auf einmal denken, verstehst du? Man muss nur an den nächsten Schritt denken, an den nächsten Atemzug, an den nächsten Besenstrich. Und immer wieder nur an den nächsten.
Dann macht es Freude. Das ist wichtig. Dann macht man seine Sache gut."

Michael Ende

To do To da y.

• Catch the train to Cologne.
• Go to percussion class.
• Grab a practice room for two hours and pretend to be hard-working.
• Find something edible from the faculty cafeteria for lunch.
• Go to Aldi and search for bring-along-to-a-staff-party-buffet-apt food that doesn't need preparing (no time and no stop-by at home for that) ...hm, um... grapes???
• Convince that prof in the 4pm class that really, reeeaaaally I don't need to do an "orientation" teaching pratice, because I've been doing the damn job for 3 1/2 years now, and if I was in any way uncertain about whether teaching really is the thing for me, I probably would have noticed by now...
• Leave the 4pm class early without pissing the prof off...
• ...in order to go to a last minute rehearsal for that girl in whose singing exam tomorrow I have the questionable honour of filling in for her duet partner.
• Drop off my bike, meet two colleagues and go to the staff party.
• Have fun and not fall asleep.
  

The universe has an attitude, mom!

After a night of dreams that were about as elusive as this one(I blame the mulled wine last night), I woke up with a strange, sinking feeling of uneasiness. Which was an awful waste especially today since I had been given an unexpected day off and could have slept in. I guess I have to blame the first week back at university. So here's what I worried about for a while round 6am, then again at 8am:

• Should I really sit my intermediate exams this winter as planned? For starters, I'm slightly (ha!) behind schedule with the requisite work - they want a rather complex portfolio thingy and have a required-reading list from here to the moon...
• Should I really do my practical intermediate exams this winter (piano, singing) as planned?
• Aren't I too bad for piano as major in the long run? No, really. Because, the standards for that are way up there in the clouds, all the examiners are pianists as well (and so quite ehm, observant...) and I've been noting for a while now that my progress is waaaaaay slow and maybe just a tad too time-consuming in view of the results...
• Shouldn't I maybe instead ask my singing teacher whether he thinks me at all capable to be majoring in singing instead? Which I am not at the moment, I've started classes far too recently for that, but in contrast to piano, singing would be more a question of talent (whether my voice is up to it) and of a good deal less practising. By comparison, I mean. But if I did that, I'd have to postpone my intermediates for sure in order to catch up, so I'm none the wiser timewise.
• Will I be able to fit in those pedagogic classes that I've been given at all at the same time?
• Oh, yes, there's school, too! Now that you mention it...
• Is the reason for the slight dizziness I feel thinking about all this a hint that maybe I am taking on too much? Or am I just being lazy and need to get my act together, get into an effective work mode?

"Make up your mind!"

Well, looks like the universe is giving out unasked-for advice. And it even cut in on my "Yes, but I don't know, you see..."

" You know everything."

What I sure do know now is that the universe doesn't like whiners.

So there.

Variations on the theme (5).

Unbefuckinglievable!!!

Really, I don't get these people. How do they do it? How can they look into the mirror without wanting to slap themselves in the face? (Actually, I hope they do. Every single time. Seeing as I can't be there to do it for them.)

Yeah, you've already guessed it: still no money for Mary. But it's much worse now because not only won't I be getting the second half of my August paycheck anytime soon, I also won't be seeing any September money either the way things are not moving right now. And on top of that I can't even hold out that little bit of hope for a quick miracle (i.e. someone in that bloody office doing their effing job for once!) any longer because I have just talked to the topmost bitch from hell and she's having a bad week.

...right...deep breaths...

See, since my last update about these fascinating goings-on, our school secretary has done everything to get someone from the School Board to please, please forward my contract (once more) to the Salaries Office - since I wasn't allowed to do it myself, it had to go the official way - and lo and behold, after just ten days she had received the reply that the person responsible had already sent that contract in mid-July but would fax it to the Office once again at once. Well, we only have their word for it, but they really seemed to have done it because they also recommended me getting in touch with the Salaries people myself again in order to kick their a...ehm, to speed up the process.

Which I did.

After many, many engaged tones and then many, many more unengaged tones this woman deigned to answer the phone. It was, however, not my very favourite contact person but someone else. When I enquired after my chances of seeing some of my money anytime in the near future her voice went all doleful and suffering and she told me how my contact person was off sick and so many other people from her department were too and how, no, the contract hadn't arrived yet, although no, scratch that, she just didn't know if it had arrived yet because they are just snowed under with work there and she just wasn't going to make any more promises because she just didn't know who was dealing with my data now and blablabla.

I interrupted her speech four times and asked her how she thought I was going to pay my next rent (or anything else for that matter), but she just went on whining and ignored my questions. No, I couldn't do anything to speed up things. No, she couldn't either. I might want to try calling again next Wednesday. By which time the September paychecks are well under way. Not mine though.

* * *

[...]

Oooooooh, yeah, I'm taking it all back!!! No, actually, I'm not, that woman is still an impossible, incapable, incompetent excuse for a civil servant (yes, I do know: the cliché of it!), but I tricked her! (fist punching air) I rang her again, got through on the fifth go and asked her - veeery nicely - if she could tell me who was responsible for me now and if she couldn't do so to give me her superior's number. Her boss answered her phone just now, fourth go, and she was absolutely lovely! Friendly, patient, great sense of humour, interested (I might just ask her to marry me..), went through all imaginable inboxes to dig up my contract, found it (!), and with just three mouse clicks sent all (!) of my money on the way. Should be there next week.

Just like that.

I'm so...so...grateful!!! (That's how they do it: treat you like shit for three months so that when eventually someone treats you with respect again, you can't believe your good luck. My, they're good at what they do.)

Although, now that I know how simple the whole thing was - open an email attachment with contract, click thrice for payment to be authorized, done! - I am even more furious at all those waaaaaaaah (insert expletives) clerks who didn't invest these three minutes during the last 6 weeks. Just because they could.

* * *

Right. Off to spend some money!

* * *

Variations bound to be continued in March = end of contract. Can't wait. Then again, now I have the superior's number, I feel really powerful. Sort of.

Is there a danger bonus for teachers?

Two colleagues of mine were on early playground duty on Friday morning - you know, the duty I'm on two days a week, shouting at the kids to please not get themselves run over when not crossing at the traffic lights? That's the one.

Well, the two women were standing at the school gate as usual, talking, one facing the playground, one facing the street/bus stop, when out of the blue two Fourth Year boys (the big baby, I-refuse-to-use-what-little-brain-I-might-have type) came charging towards them, in the middle of one of their non-stop scuffle-tussles. They either didn't see the two teachers or were unable to stop, either way, they banged with full force into the first teacher who in turn bumped her head so hard against the other one that the second woman was knocked to the ground.

She broke her left wrist which resulted in a complicated operation featuring nails and steel plates. She also broke a lumbar vertebra (Lendenwirbel - that's what the dictionary tells me it is). Now, apparently there are two ways of breaking a vertebra: the fracture pointing towards the outside, or towards the inside.

The inside being where the spinal marrow is.

The spinal marrow being quite useful when it comes to walking and moving in general.

The second kind of fracture being not good at all.

Of course it's the second kind of fracture she got.

So now she's strapped to a hospital bed in a special corset for at least eight weeks and not allowed to move an inch, because any wrong movement might (and very probably would) lead to paralysis/paraplegia (Querschnittslähmung - God, I'm learning so many freaky new words today). They decided against an operation for the time being.

A colleague was on the phone to her yesterday and quoted her saying "Oh, what a nuisance. Here I am lying around, good for nothing, when there's so much to do! Some of my kids' work placement is still not sorted!"

Well, you got to worry about something, I guess.

Mit meinen heißen Tränen...

Mein (!) Lesesaal in der Albertina. Der Tisch rechts vorne war unserer...seufz.

Die heiligen Hallen...

Der Lesesaal in Köln, der niemals meiner sein wird...

Blick nach oben in Leipzig...

...und in Köln. Need I say more???
* * *

...weine ich der Albertina in Leipzig hinterher!

Ich meine, wir alle wussten, dass es eine seltene Ehre ist, in solch einer Bibliothek ein- und (in sehr regelmäßigen Abständen zum Kaffeetrinken) ausgehen zu dürfen. Aber ach! Wenn einem der krasse Unterschied so dermaßen deutlich unter die Nase und in die Wunde gerieben wird! Sehr, sehr schmerzhaft. Vielleicht muss ich mein Studium in Köln doch abbrechen... Mir tun die Augen von gestern immernoch weh!