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?

I just heard

an absolutely beautiful short story for the second time.

It's the last act of the Numbers episode of This American Life, about 40 minutes in.

I'm writing practice articles about blasphemy for hopeful publication and payment. It's great fun, I have to say. I feel like some kind of rad member of society who works from home, instead of a loser sitting at 2pm in her pajamas on her boyfriend's floor.

I demand!

Anxiety, be gone!

Fortunately, long walks and fruits are cure-alls, and I have time for both.

I can't put my feelings into simple language, which is why I don't understand what's happening in my own mind. Fortunately, my mouth and my brain have found mediation -- a translator -- just like in Metropolis.

Exhaustion seems to have taken over my body, outfitting me every day with a pale face. Still, I will write my article about blasphemy, and find something clean to wear; shower every discontent off the surface of my skin.

Konstanz

When I woke up this morning, it was snowing. By the time I left the indoors, shiney sun and wet sidewalks.

On the nine hour train ride yesterday, I read for about an hour. The rest of the time I just gnawed on the various foodstuffs I had picked from the train station grocery store, and stared out the window, daydreaming. I wrote the strangest things in my diary.

Something I saw on the way here jerked back a memory from when I was younger, much younger. It was a factory or something, it doesn't matter, with a smokestack (is that an outdated term?) breathing enormous masses of white steam into the air. The clouds were perfectly formed to welcome the white bellows into their masses. They were low to the ground, but distinctly white and individual. I saw it and thought of a building I used to drive past, in the back seat of my parents' car. With no idea what happened in the building, I called it The Cloud Factory, and I almost really thought that's why it was there. It was either on the way to San Francisco or to Fort Bragg -- I feel like it was the latter, but I can't imagine where on that route it was. If it was on the way to San Francisco, it's the place I now call Atlantis, because I think it has a particularly submerged look. I mean, I can imagine finding it while snorkling.

I bought peaches, blueberries, and cardamom. When those ingredients blend with honey, deliciousness ensues.

Fraudulent activity!

4:30am- awoke, terrified that someone was standing on my balcony.
4:45am- talked to Deniz and Brenda on Skype
5:30am- started watching 30Rock
6am- Ruth finally woke up. Talked to her in the kitchen.
6:30am- tried and failed to go back to sleep.
7am- gave up on sleeping. Showered and got dressed.
8:15am- left the house to go to the internet Cafe down the street and buy a train ticket to Konstanz. Although it opens at 8, there was a severe lockdown situation.
8:30am- bought minutes for my phone. WITHDREW MONEY (this is important later). Bought food for train.
8:55am- arrived at train station. Tried to buy a ticket to Konstanz from a machine and ended up with a ticket to Stuttgart.
9am- tried to buy the correct ticket from an actual person, who told me my card was not working.
9:05am- walked 20 feet to another ATM, where a bold message read "YOUR CARD IS NOT ALLOWED AT THIS MACHINE".
9:07am- sat down and had a frustrated cry.
9:30am- got back to Deutsche Bank and tried again at the same ATM. "CARD NOT ALLOWED"
10am- got back to the internet cafe. Tried to buy ticket online, which also failed.
10:30am- went home and went back to sleep.
2pm- woke up
...
6:30pm- called Bank of America. A lady told me that my card has been frozen because of suspicious activity, and asked me, "Did you tell your bank that you were going to be abroad?"
I said, "No, but I've been here for six months without any problems."
She said, "Hm," and transferred me somewhere else.
I am now on hold.
6:54pm- still on hold.

FK

I'm talking on the phone to this asshole I call a boyfriend. He is questioning my English language skills and complaining that he's not mentioned in my blog.

The man in question:


New things I did today:
-Went to the amazing Turkish Market
-Learned a legitimate swimming stroke from an actual instructor