I'm a huge fan of Mitfahrgelegenheit. I don't know if I've explained this to my beautiful friends at home yet, so I will proceed:
Mitfahrgelegenheit is essentially the same premise as CouchSurfing, except instead of a place to sleep, people provide others with transportation. Actually, the mission statement of CouchSurfing has something to do with bringing the world together, and I don't think Mitfahr is that ambitious. CouchSurfing is also free. Hm. Anyway, what actually happens is that you hop into a stranger's car and hope for the best.
The first time I used this website, I rode to Baden-Baden with four other people. No one spoke to each other, and the guy was a relatively safe driver, I guess, but only because nothing bad actually happens because of speed alone. I drove with the same dude on the way back from Baden (a strange coincidence), and he beckoned me into the front seat and we talked for about an hour. After I had the realization that he was kind of boring, I had an even more paralyzing realization: when you've started a car ride talking to the person next to you, there's no real good time to put your headphones on.
Last time, I drove to Berlin from Konstanz with two of the hugest stoners ever, who listened thrice to the same Police album. Thrice. Thrice, we almost got into accidents. Thrice, the guy in the passenger side screamed, "AAAAAALLLLLLTTTTTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".
Sunday, I'm going to drive with another dude. I think he's Turkish, but I couldn't tell exactly from his accent. Excitement will hopefully not ensue.

Consistency is key!

Consistent with the pattern of my life, I feel completely different than when I last wrote. I feel wonderful, actually. Last night, I got out of the house and went with Laura to see The Spinto Band in Prenzlauerberg. One reason it was awesome was that we were actually home before midnight. It was also relatively cheap, and a pretty small venue, nice for a concert of this sort. The reason we were home so early was, well... that's just what happens when you don't really give a shit about the headlining band. I just felt so lucky to be there, because I looked up their tour dates on a complete whim two days ago. I have great luck sometimes.

Good mood may also stem from the hours I've spent sitting in the kitchen with my roommates, looking up songs that we want to sing together on Saturday. I'm not clear on the details, but it seems like someone's friend owns a bar, and there's some weird sort of karaoke thing that we're doing, but with a live band behind us. We're singing a bunch of German drinking songs, dressed very chic, and singing in nice voices. That's the current plan, anyway.

The bathroom has been occupied for almost three hours. What the hell?

I bought a pumpkin a few days ago at the Turkish Market, and now I'm looking up ways to prepare it to be cruelly mashed and turned into Pumpkin-Ginger bisque. I'm kind of inventing the recipe, so we'll just see how it turns out. I'll take pictures, I'm sure, since I'm really obsessed with photographing my meals for some reason.

Even though I haven't really been a productive human being in the traditional sense (i.e. having a job, etc.), I feel productive. Mostly because I have birthday presents for both Hannah (who is coming to Berlin next week), and Florian (who I am going to visit this weekend).

Anti Fiction

My lips are lonely with only my teeth to touch.

Spied on.

Something's getting lost. Can that really happen, though, when there was nothing there to begin with? Maybe I am just realizing for REAL real that there is nothing to grasp onto. I want to link fingers with something and feel every single one, know it's really there. I want someone to pull me towards them, lean my forehead against theirs, and slap me until either I cry or look into their eyes knowingly and smile at the absurdity. My face needs to be touched, the spaces under my eyes are lonely without fingers to graze them.

There's an untouched vodka standing next to my bed. Should I? Shouldn't I? Should I? Shouldn't I?

Who knows if these contents are actual or fictional?

I am an abuser of the Repeat button.

and this is the current subject:

I am awake before 8am and writing a blog about Facebook.

I am so over hating on Facebook. I am on it all the time, I think it's pretty clear that I love almost everything about it.

Notice that word which was only included to excuse what's about to happen: "almost".

I do not see the point of this weird little addition that is rising in popularity: the little button you can push on people's profiles so they know that you "LIKE THIS!" (In German, it's "gefällt dies!", which I kind of like better). It's not like you're giving any sort of actual feedback on the thing you like; on the contrary, reading these feeds usually leaves me wondering... "why!?" WHY do people like that certain people have become friends? WHY does someone like that Hailey was test driving her bike?

Last night I dreamt that I found my turquoise hat.

Hallelujah.

Blessed with an immersion blender, I am learning how to make tomato bisque soup tonight, an achievement I plan on replicating several times in the near future. I need to branch out, cooking wise. It would be nice to have at least one acceptable meal in my repertoire.

This computer is set in a different language, and there is no auto-spelling checks. I am not excited about the fact that I'm exposing my potential spelling-loserdom.

Great things have been happening lately. Every time I see something that strikes me as beautiful, I reach for my pen and paper rather than feel my eyes start to water. I can laugh again. Not just distractedly chuckle -- I can look into someone's eyes as they speak, and produce a laugh that begins somewhere beyond the base of my tongue. I feel helpful sometimes, which is laughable, but I still feel it, and that is what matters at the moment. First I need to feel it. Everything else can come later.

Is that ridiculous?