The Milgram Cashout.

Getting my life on track. Going places. I gots me a new job, and a fancy new boyfriend. Really, he's very high tech. Just got a new robot part added yesterday.

I'm trapped between my ringing ears. I have the bad habit of containing my entire self inside my head. It triggers my claustrophobia, and the only cure is to release it, either out of my mouth in words, or through my eyes in tears. I've been begging for a catharsis, and I thought when I started crying something would change. Now I'm sitting here with stained cheeks, still longing for an escape, still wishing that speaking out loud to no one would provide comfort. When someone falls victim to my mouth's firings, I can never seem to verbalize what I'm thinking. Do I wish I knew more words, or do I wish I knew fewer words? Would I rather condense what is inside my brain into one word ("sad"), or would it funtion better if I knew many more words with which to describe the feelings?

mute button,

I wish I could write beautifully. My fingers freeze, just like I choke on my tongue, and nothing is accomplished. My words aren't worthy of the thoughts in my head, and I'm stuck.

German movies and my Apartments.

Apparently, most of the movie GOOD BYE LENIN! was shot on my old street in Berlin (Karl-Marx-Allee), and there is a movie called SONNENALLEE, which is my current street.

Not another one.

I'm experiencing another one of my rare completely sleepless nights. Panicked about my flight, lonelier than I've been in a long time, feeling the fucked up sense of in-between-ness that I've been trying to avoid. I keep downing beer in the hopes that it will put me to sleep -- I'm sucking it down so loudly, I'm surprised Florian doesn't wake up every time it glugs down my throat.

Remember last time? I drank whiskey until dawn, hoping the same thing. I ended up puking at 9am, still completely awake. Alcohol doesn't help with this.

I'm just scared to go home, and scared of everything it might mean. At the same time, I'm scared of what it might not mean. What if I'm gone, and Germany exists without me? What if I get home, and there's no sense of belonging? What if I end up wanting to stay?

Of course, the biggest question of all:
What if I die on the airplane?

(it's my biggest fear)

I'm headed back to the United States on the 28th of June. Due to visa issues (mine runs out at the end of June), I have to stay out of Germany for 3 months.

Right now, I'm sitting in Konstanz, preparing to attempt a quiche. When I started my school hiatus, I decided to learn how to cook. Unless sticking tons of vegetables in a wok, cooking them, and dumping curry over them counts, I have not achieved that goal. I will now embark on a real cooking adventure. I did already make backup plans, in case it doesn't go well: a restaurant.

I bought the ultimate pants today. They are deliciously cheap black jeans from Zara, perfectly cut, just really gorgeous. Not to mention the price, which was definitely right.

I have nothing to do in Konstanz except read, shop, and write. I have been journaling a lot, which is great. Sometimes I wish I had friends or people around who were nosey enough to read it. It would be nice to have someone I couldn't hide from, even if I didn't know about it.

yet again.

This is probably getting old, but what a babe!