Yes, I’m still having one! It might just be a permanent condition by now!
I’ve been a bit MIA lately. I didn’t really want to post about it because, to be quite honest, I was afraid of posting it before it was over, afraid of people saying “awww I’m sorry” cause I can’t stand people feeling sorry for me. I was really afraid. But now’s the time to say it…
My written exams are overrrrrrrrrr!!!! Wooooh!
Yes, my last, final, super important exams. Over. This is so weird. I never thought I’d say this.
I studied a lot the last few months, I’m sure you could tell I took a lot of time off blogging due to math and german and the other stuff I really had to work hard to get through. The last few weeks have been so hard.
I studied 12-16 hours a day. I developed the strangest eating habits. I lost 15 pounds, which is bad because I’m already on the skinny side and I’m not looking good right now. My friends were very worried but I just forgot about eating!
Some days I cried for hours while I studied, thinking I couldn’t possibly pass. My friends couldn’t convince me to take breaks, and if they managed to get me out, I was close to tears afraid I’d lose too much time. I felt like therr couldn’t possibly be enough hours in the day to study.
On one occasion I called Daniel at work – I used the “emergency number” where I actually end up with their in-store hotline, so they could call him into the phone room. Obviously he turns off his cell at work. When he got to the phone he sounded really worried. This is how the conversation went:
D: What’s wrong sweety?!?!
Me: I have a huge problem. *sob* I…. *sob* I have to staple some of my papers together *sob* so they stay orderly *sob* and I can’t find any staples *sob* I just canT find any, or anything else I could use… *sob*… baby I don’t have staples! What do I do now?! *cry*
D: …. What?
Me: Staples… I don’t know where to get staples to staple my papers together, you know. I need them! I can’t do anything without staples! I’ll fail if I don’t find staples! But there are none at home!
D: *giggles* Ok, go to the grocery store.
ME: How?! I don’t know!
D: *giggling some more* ok, go get into your car, drive to the grocery store, take your stapler with you, and ask them to give you some. Buy like a thousand just to make sure.
ME: What if they don’t have any?
D: Then you come here and I’ll let you have one of the work staplers. But try the grocery store first.
Can you believe how much better I felt after this conversation? I took my stapler with me, found an employee at the grocery store, wiped my red eyes and muttered “…need staples…” and pushed the stapler at him. I bought a thousand pieces pack.
I feel much better talking about all this now. Even though I don’t have my grades yet, I know I passed. I just know I answered enough on every test to at least pass. Now all I have to do are the oral exams, two of them. They’re mandatory, so even if you can’t improve in any of your subjects, you have to take two. I don’t know what I’ll be doing since I don’t have my grades yet, but I’m not really afraid of that anymore. Everybody says they won’t let you fail there anymore as long as you show up.
Now it’s finally the time I can look forward to something else I never thought I’d have…
Prom. Yup. We’re going to have an all-american-styled prom. Pretty dresses, dinner, and a little party. I can’t wait!!! I’m going to go dress shopping next week or so. I don’t have anything particular in mind… well, I’d like a long, sleek, tight-fitting black dress… maybe an open back or something. Not too much bright color or a lot of ruffles and stuff. We’ll see!
Now I’m off to enjoy this beautiful hot day, go to the lake, relax a bit and spend some time with the people I pretty much ignored the last few weeks!
Oh, and by the way, I’m happy to announce that the staples I bought will probably carry me through university. After all, I have 999 left.
Much of the way girls are raised in the QF/P movements is to prepare them for married life. Of course, some families and communities support college for girls to ensure a well-rounded character (within the limits of that group or family, of course). You will typically see girls and young women taking online courses on things such as literature, culture, nursing and other medical classes, nutrition and so on. It’s easy to tell that all of this is things you can use at home, either to teach your own girls the beautiful girly things (literature), to be able to perform first aid and to cook a well-balanced meal. You’ll hardly ever see these girls taking classes like law, architecture or physics. It’s just not a useful thing to know as a wife and mother.
But among the most important preparations to be a wife is child-rearing. Of course there’s always children around. If the family doesn’t have enough children on their own the daughters will help other big families and perform ministries that prepare them for a lot of kids.
My family was lucky enough to have a big bunch of kids that I could prepare with. Except that I didn’t feel like I was being prepared at all. Don’t get me wrong, I love my siblings more than anything. I simply didn’t have the patience to take care of 4-6 kids at a time. If I had only one or two I was fine. That seemed easy to me. I was able to stay in relative control of the situation. But as soon as there were 3 or more, things got really messy. You know how kids are, they scream, run and tease each other. They fight. They might play nice for half an hour and suddenly one starts crying for one reason or another.
I had a completely different style of relating to my siblings than my mother did. My Mom was always a good Mom, but she was very much a hen. It started to upset me that she acted this way with the younger ones when I was in my teens, knowing that she would “ruin” what I had accomplished the day before. Whenever one of the kids got hurt – and you know they fall or hurt themselves a lot – she focused on the tiniest things. If one fell outside in the garden and barely even scratched his or her knee, she would swoon all over the little one, showering it with pity and hugs and kisses and sentences like “Oh it looks so bad. Does it hurt? My poor baby!”. I caught myself rolling my eyes more than once a day at that. It was barely a scratch! It didn’t bleed! She fell on the grass, it couldn’t possibly hurt that much! But no, my Mother had them sit on their lap for about 10 minutes, letting them cry, telling them how bad it is and so on. Whenever one fell when I was close, I grabbed them, sat them on the kitchen counter, checked their knees and cleaned them if necessary, told them it’s not bad at all and quickly changed to a cheerful conversation of what we had to do next. As long as Mom wasn’t close, they quickly forgot about their tiny hurts and started laughing again. But whenever Mom was in range, they’d scream my ears off and push me away so they could get Mom’s attention. I mean, I understand that this was partially because it meant individual time with Mom, but it upset me that I had to deal with a cranky little one for 30 minutes just because Mom had to put so much attention to tiny matters. Once the little one came back from Mom, it would stand a bit further away, hugging a teddy or a blanket, and when the other ones asked the little one to come back to play, they’d say something along the lines of “I can’t. I’m hurt badly.” Eye rolling from me.
On other occasions, I felt so overwhelmed by the sheer needs of the kids. I remember days where I had only 2 or 3 of them to watch, that wasn’t many kids at all! And yet I could be close to tears and feel so ashamed for being unable to deal with that little kids. I felt like I was going to make a terrible wife.
I remember one occasion where I had 2 of the boys and one of the smaller girls to watch. They played in the boy’s room while I was sorting through their closet. They jumped on the beds, played dragon and princess and screamed bloody hell. I was exhausted that day, I had gotten up even earlier than usual, got scolded by my parents for not doing some chores the day before (because I didn’t have time, just to add that) and had to those chores as well as the new ones. And the screaming of the kids made me incredibly angry. I stood there repeating over and over “Keep it down guys!” – “Be careful, don’t jump!” – “Don’t hit your sister with a stick!” – “Keep it DOWN!”. This went on for about 20 minutes and wouldn’t stop, so I turned around, grabbed them all by their arms, had them look at me and told them to either keep it down and play nice or to go outside. The oldest of the three, my brother, laughed at me and said “You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not Mom!”. I grabbed his arm a bit harder and said, very seriously: “Mom told me to watch you. I CAN tell you what to do!” He kept laughing and wriggled his arm free. He them took his “sword” and yelled: “LISA IS THE DRAGON! ATTACK!” and all three of them started whacking at me with their swords, my little sister grabbed one too even. The other two were too small to really get it. Oh wow was I angry. I was feeling tears in my eyes and an incredible urge to – excuse me – beat my brother with anything I could find. Instead, I took his sword away, grabbed him by the arms and held him, yelled at the two small ones to sit down RIGHT NOW, dragged my brother to the bathroom and sat him down on the toilet and told him to stay there until I called him back in. He screamed and screamed at me, face red, kicked at me, the full show. The other two started crying because I had yelled at them, my brother ran off and screamed and cried and left me sitting in the bathroom. I locked myself in for half an hour to calm down and cry some.
I was so ashamed of being such a terrible mother. I couldn’t even control 3, how should I ever managed 10 or more? And this is just one example. This happened so often, me trying to be nice and not use any violence and ending up with something like that – me defeated, the kids winning and laughing at me. I would never make a good mother.
And then again, there were situations were I got upset at my sisters for doing what they were supposed to do. I remember one occasion where one of my smaller sisters, she was 5 or 6 at that time, played with the real small ones of another family. The little girl was just starting to walk and wanted to explore, of course. My little sister kept holding her hand and helping her around. But she wanted to play doll with that little girl, so she kept sitting the little one on her lap. The little one struggled to get away from my sister to play with the other kids, who were playing and running around on the grass. My sister kept holding her. When the little one started to wail because she couldn’t get away from my sister, my sister started to “console” the crying little one, sang songs and rocked it back and forth. She didn’t get the little one didn’t want to stay. The others ran over and asked my sister to come play but she replied “I can’t. I have the baby and she’s crying.”. I watched the scene and felt anger rise up in me. Why was she so insistent to keep the baby? The little one cried more and more, my sister looking all serious, asking what’s wrong, shhhing it, singing and looking like a little Mom, while watching the others play. And that was the point where I lost my patience. I went over to her and told her that the baby didn’t want to sit on her lap. She answered “Yes she doesn, she’s crying can’t you see?”. I told her the baby was crying because she was holding it. She let it go then and the baby quickly got to her feet and started walking away, now happy again. I turned around to go away, after a few steps looking back at the scene just to see my sister off to catch the baby again, forcing it on her lap, doing the same thing. NOW I was angry. I stomped over to her, took the baby away and yelled at her:
“Stop it! Quit acting like you’re a grown up! You’re a kid, go play! YOU’RE NOT A GROWN UP! You’re not supposed to play baby’s Mom!”
I can’t explain where that came from. She was supposed to do exactly that. But seeing it made me so angry. She started crying and ran inside. I let the baby down, the baby just being happy to be finally free. But I felt so bad. Had I just yelled at my sister for doing what we were trying to teach her? She ran to my parents and told them about it, my Dad coming outside to yell at me what I was thinking, that I did the wrong thing and I should let her play with the baby. I went inside, excusing myself, to cry about my weird behaviour. I didn’t get why I said that. I didn’t get why it made me so angry. Once again I felt ashamed for being such a terrible mother.
You see, while all of that was supposed to prepare me for married life and kids, it instead scared me. It made me feel inadequate and stupid. Until this day I feel like the only thing it taught me was that I neither want nor am able to have more than two kids myself. I feel like I have already raised enough kids in my life and doing it again doesn’t seem like something I want to do any time soon. The fact that I love my siblings doesn’t change that I don’t feel suited to raise kids. I keep wondering, if I didn’t have this many siblings, our family would’ve been so different, I might have never left, and might have gotten married, and might have ended up with 10 myself. I’d be thrown into the cold water just to realize that I’m not made for that. I guess I’m glad I could at least learn that.
Phew, there’s been a bunch of changes and events in my life lately. I though it would be a good idea to write about it for a little bit.
The first thing is that I’m extremely thrilled that my Mom actually called me yesterday to “chat”. Like, out of the blue! There’s no special event or special day or any other occasion that would give her a good enough reason to call me. She actually called me just to talk. And the great thing is, she didn’t have any news to tell me! Why’s that great you might ask yourself now. Well, our calls have been nothing but an exchange of major news ever since I left. The few times we talked there was always an important reason for her to call me. But this time there was nothing up at all! So she must have called me because she just wanted to talk to me and that’s great. She called me “Häschen” which means “little bunny”, she used to call me that when I was younger but not much any more ever since my courtship, actually. I guess she felt it wasn’t appropriate any more. She asked me how I’m doing in school and about my job and my friends and all that. And not in an annoying “you’re doing the wrong thing and I disapprove of your lifestyle” way. Just sounded like genuine curiosity. We also talked about the possibility of her visiting me and she said she is working on it, seeing if she can make it and asked me if there was enough room to bring the smaller ones along because she doesn’t want to leave them back. I really really hope that works out.
Something that… well… seemed a bit strange, to say the least, was the fact that she didn’t speak very nicely of Dad. I asked her what he would say if she came to visit and she told me that she didn’t care and that he’s “in sin” lately. I do not know what she could possibly mean, there’s so many options of what that could be… I guess I’ll find out.
And one more shocking thing happened. See, I did not really tell my parents about the fact that I have a boyfriend. I guess I just don’t want them to think I’ve gone completely worldly… But he’s involved in so many parts of my life that I have a hard time hiding him when I talk about my daily life. So I figured I’d just straight out tell my Mom. I meant, if she actually came to visit she would find out anyway and I don’t think that would be a nice situation for her and everybody else, being confronted like that. So I told her “Mom, I have to tell you… I have a boyfriend…” and what she said silenced me for a while:
“Oh, I know.”
My jaw dropped, to say the least! After what felt like a minute of recovering I asked “How, I mean, what?? How??”
My Mom laughed and just said: “You know, my sister has never been good at keeping secrets.”
I’m glad my Mom wasn’t hurt by me not telling her earlier and finding out through my aunt, we talked about it for a little while and while she didn’t seem like she wanted to know details, she asked some superficial questions about him (job, age and that) and his family as well. I guess it went well.
As for the rest of the week… I was very excited for visiting days at the different universities around, I still am because I’m going to look at some more schools, but I went to the closest one this week and I had an absolute blast!
There was a very nice mentor, a student herself, who showed us around and explained everything. She is actually younger than me but I felt like the little girl. She told us this was her first time as a newbie mentor and she was really bubbly and fun, and she blushed many times whenever somebody asked her a question, but that just made me more comfortable, knowing I’m not the only newbie. She gave us a list of lectures we could visit, helped us pick some out and told us where to go. I went to a literature lecture on the Victorian age and I had a lot of fun there, the teacher was about 35-40 and he had this funny way of speaking… like, really passionate. He talked about the marriage of Queen Victoria and showed letters and her diary and read them out, and at one point he giggled and squealed “How romantic!” when he read the entry on her wedding night.
After that, I went to a law lesson. Boy that is one tough thing to study! Everybody there looked so fancy – kind of lawyer-ish, haha – and it was A LOT of confusing stuff. I can’t really explain but it was very confusing, so many different laws on the same thing with a lot of cross references to other laws and also the language seems so foreign and intelligent, and really a lot of stuff you have to memorize. I felt a bit overwhelmed and I just heard one lesson, I can only imagine how much they have to memorize for the test! But, I don’t know, I didn’t think I’d say this, but it made me really curious and I’m definitely going to look into law.
After those two lessons, my group met back up with our mentor and she guided us to the cafeteria and had lunch with us. She answered all our questions on student life in that particular city and on university life. She was so sweet and tried to get the fear out of us. She also told us some stories about her first semesters, which was funny and partially embarrassing (for her) but she laughed and told us to wait, the exact same would happen to us.
In the afternoon I heard a lesson in History of Art, it was one on medieval churches. That was very, very interesting but I recognized that the students in there obviously had a lot of background that I didn’t have. But that’s what university is for, right? But hearing about some styles was amazing and it really sparked my interest.
The last I heard was a culture class about the jewish in Europe in medieval times. I heard so much information that I didn’t know before and it was fascinating. I always think of terrible things when I hear “Middle Age”, so it was kind of eye-opening that people weren’t stupid at all, just different. Another thing I was really surprised by!
After the last lesson we again met back up with our mentor. We had a coffee together and just chatted some more. She also gave us some materials about the school and the city and everything.
I was really fascinated by university life. It’s not what I imagined it to be – no sex talk everywhere, not full of people having sex wherever they go, not full of teachers who lurk on stupid female students who are exploited… Just normal, peaceful people who are working very hard.
Wow, if you’re still reading, you really made it through this rant! I guess I’ll finish here, but I’ll be back with more stories and school!
I receive frequent questions about my faith – from readers, friends, family, everybody who knows my story. Do I believe? What do I believe? My only answer is “I don’t know.” I really don’t.
Sometimes I wish I could just leave it all behind and be an atheist. Enjoy my life for what it is now, be responsible for myself, have my own opinion on things. Sometimes I even am like that. A life with no guilt, no fear of a heavenly punisher just waiting to teach me a lesson or two. No judgement from a being who I don’t even seem to know.
Other days I’m really angry at that being. I’m not an atheist on those days – I know he exists, I know its his fault, everything that goes wrong is his fault. And I want to hurt him. With my words, thoughts, actions. I want to tell him to get out of my life. That I’m not afraid of his stupid hell because Id rather spend my eternal afterlife there than sit next to a violent, punishing wannabe-father who has no other joy in his existence than burning ants and torturing cats.
And then, there are other days again, where I feel like there’s a good chance that he doesn’t exist, that we’re all making this up in our minds to soothe the fear and pain that the knowledge that nothing will ever wait for us after our deaths causes in our minds. The days were I’m longing for a good, heavenly Daddy who waits for me with open arms, cries for me, forgives me all that I have done and will be doing. The Daddy that hugs me and says “It’s all forgotten now, now you’re with me, I never meant this to happen to you.” I wish I could be Daddy’s little girl on those days.
So here, that’s my belief, I guess. I suppose you’re not much smarter now, and neither am I.
As I was working on filling out the Q&A project by Libby Anne, I started thinking about the different churches we were visiting as a family. There was always some reason why we would leave a community rather quickly. And then, I remembered one incident when I was 10, which caused us yet again to leave another community.
We had been members of that community for a few months at that point. We weren’t crazily involved with them (yet) because it was a bit of a drive to get to church and we couldn’t be there for everything. Nevertheless we went there almost every sunday for sermons and community gatherings.
This church wasn’t all about QF families, but there were some. Others were fundamentalist, but not QF like we were. Others again were people my Dad called “luke warm christians”, so basically, they were average, worldly christians.
That one sunday after sermon and community lunch, I was playing outside with the other kids. The church had a small but nice play ground. My parents were inside – my Dad talking to the elders, my Mom helping with cleaning up and talking to the women. Some older girls were babysitting us, but they just sat around, a bit further away, talking about their own stuff. They were 16-18 so they didn’t really want to play with us smaller ones. I was playing with some of the QF girls, singing songs and such. One of the girls I played with was 13 or 14, I don’t remember. Anyways, there was another group of girls, the luke warm girls, who were giggling and talking about how boring church was. That older girl I played with got upset and decided to lecture them – not a good idea. She stood in front of them like a grown up and told them not to speak that way of Jesus and the church. The girls didn’t take her serious at all and started laughing. One of them exclaimed: “I think she’s on her period!” and the other girls started laughing and agreed. “Yeah, totally!” “Aaaah that’s why she’s so moody!”. The older girl was very embarrassed, turned and walked away to sit in the sand further away.
Here’s where the joke comes in: I had no idea what they were talking about. Why was that so funny? What was “period”? How did you get “on” it? And how did you get off? (Please note, if they said “unclean”, I would have had a tiny idea but no knowledge either)
So of course I asked rather loudly “What’s a period?!?!”
At first, the girls looked shocked and humoured. And then, they started laughing hysterically.
“WHAT?! You… don’t know? You don’t know what a period is?!”
I figured that this thing they were talking about was something so essential to my existence that not knowing what it was made me look like a 3-year-old. I blushed, I think, I know my head turned so hot I was afraid my brain would melt.
“Of course I know!!!” I yelled. The girl they picked on earlier yelled at them to leave me alone, she’d tell on them. That scared them a bit, but not enough to drop the subject. They started talking to each other, loud enough for me to hear – of course that was on purpose:
“What’s Lisa going to do once she gets her period???” – “I bet she’ll cry and be like ‘Mommy, mommy look!” – “Yeah, or she’ll get a vacuum cleaner and suck it all out!” – “Oh yeah, ‘vacuum cleaner Lisa’!”
They actually said that part about the vacuum cleaner and today, I can only laugh. It is kind of creative to think that way, I guess. Any way, I was humiliated and close to tears, still standing in the middle between the group of girls and the bigger girl still sitting in the sand, just as humiliated.
“Come here, Lisa, it’s all just fun, I’ll explain” one of the laughing girls said. So I went over and the girls exchanged knowing looks. “Your period is when blood comes out, down there, you know”. They giggled, but I was HORRIFIED. “Down there?!? Blood?!?!” I asked and thought about it. “You mean, out of my butt?” They laughed again. “Noooooo Lisa, not your butt. Where your pee comes out!” Of course, I thought. And I was still horrified. Why would such a thing happen? Did it mean I was sick? I went back to the older girl and told her I was sorry she was on her period. The girl stood up and left, I had no clue why. I didn’t want to stay outside with the mean girls and I was too shocked anyway, so I decided to find my mother.
Later that night, I went to ask my mother about it. “Mom, am I going to get my period?” “Yes, eventually” she answered, clearly embarrassed. “Why? Is it that I’m sick then?” I wanted to know. “You’re only 10 sweety,” she answered, “you don’t need to know until the day comes. Why do you ask anyway?” I told her the story about the girls and my mom was shocked. “These are bad, bad girls and you shouldn’t talk to them any more.”
I bet you already figured that these girls weren’t as educated on the matter as they thought they were. Well, my mother talked to my Dad about it, who was equally shocked that these girls were so oversexualised. He decided that contact with them was unhealthy for us, and we never attended that church again. It’s funny to think how such stupid girl’s fights could stir up so much suspicion in adults. And considering the fact that ever since that I was even more scared of growing up, it shows that it’s not the best idea to keep this stuff a secret. I think my Mom would’ve saved me many worries if she’d come clear that night when I asked her about it.
I hope of all of you, my wonderful readers, had a quiet and relaxed easter time. Of course, it’s never really quiet if you celebrate it… Cooking, cleaning, shopping, all that holiday stuff. But if you’re honest with yourself, you probably had fun with that, too and it was worth it! So back to every day life now.
Over easter my aunt called my mother for some chatting and exchanging news and such. I was there too and I actually talked to my Mom for quite a while.
I think my Mom is in the process of forgiving me, somehow. I don’t know why I think that, I guess it’s just the way she talks to me – or talked to me, on that day. I mean, she was so normal. She tried to avoid religious topics and I mean, easter would’ve been a great day to remind me of redemption and salvation and all that, but she didn’t go there. She wished me happy easter and asked what I’ve been doing over the holidays. She listened and was very interested in my stories. Where I went for lunches and dinners, who the people and families are, how I know them, what they do for a living and such. Like, I don’t know… she seemed interested in my life now, not judging me, nothing.
I also asked her what they have been doing, how the holidays went and if there was anything new the last weeks. We talked for a bit on my birthday but due to the difference in time zones and the fact that I worked on my birthday, it was a really short conversation. We had much more time this weekend.
Well, there are some news about my family. My Mom told me that my brother – the oldest one who came after me – got engaged last week. I didn’t even know he was courting and I thought he must’ve been courting back in October when I was in the states, so you can imagine that I reacted hurt to those news. Just because nobody told me. My Mom explained that they weren’t officially courting yet at that point and that it was just my brother talking to the young woman’s Dad at that point. So yeah, it’s normal to not even tell close family because there still might be gossip and it might get hopes up. They started their official courtship mid-November and, as I said, got engaged last week.
I know the girl he’s engaged to, but not very well. She’s from a family we had loose contact with. Her family isn’t as strict as mine (that I know of) and she lives a 30 minute drive away from my family, so they could actually see each other every other day and had many meetings during their close to 6 month courtship period. She’s a very nice girl but much younger than me and every time I saw her, she was very very quiet and shy and we hardly ever talked because she prefered to sit quiet next to her parents. That’s ok, of course, but I can’t really say much about her except that she seems very nice. She’s just 18 so a 6 year difference between me and her might be a reason why I never talked to her on a friendship base but much more on an older sister/babysitter base. Anyways, I’m happy for the two, she’s so precious and genuinely nice and loving, and of course I love my brother. I just hope that he won’t act like a copy of my Dad and that he’ll treat her right and not like a tyrant. I’m actually a bit worried for her but what can I do? I hope for the best.
It’s just one more situation that shocks me, kind of. I might be an aunt within the next year, year and a half. If things went differently, I’d have one or two kids by now. Being an aunt would feel different. It makes me feel like I’m actually younger than my brother, sort of. I feel almost like a child compared to his situation, but I know that’s not true. We simply live in different worlds.
Other than that, my Mom and I also talked about my sister… And I told my mother to see a doctor about it. She’s really not dealing well with it. She said that Dad has become very strange and quiet and I think he might be depressive. But the same goes for my Mom, it’s just a different way of showing it. I don’t know why but it somehow went by me. The big depression, I mean. It’s like all of that happened in another universe, kind of removed from my existence here. Of course I’m sad, of course it hurts, that’s not the point. It’s more like the realisation still hasn’t sunk in, or if it did, maybe I’m just dealing with it on a different level. There are always going to be big loses in life, but the world doesn’t stop and wait for you. You have to keep pushing yourself, or you’ll get lost and never find your way back into life. I think the world has still stopped for my Mom. I feel like she needs help and she said she was going to talk to a doctor about it. I’ll somehow try to make sure she really does it.
My other siblings are fine. They all sat together on the phone once the major conversation with my Mom was over and asked me for a lot of things. My sisters seemed so curious and excited to know about my life now. Especially the older ones… I think they might be questioning if their way is the only way. My brothers didn’t talk much, at least the older ones, because, you know, they didn’t really seem interested and we never had that close of a relationship as I did with the girls. The deep talks weren’t what they come to me for. But the smaller ones were very interested to know about this weird country I live in and asked some funny questions. Do we have microwaves too? Are we allowed to vote? What are the cars like??? They have a boyish fascination with cars and I was a bit sad I couldn’t satisfy them with my answers… I know nothing about cars!
I didn’t talk to my Dad, though. My Mom said he wasn’t in the mood and he was praying and bible studying anyway. He seems to do that a lot now, more than ever. I think he’s still very angry at me. But what can I do? I apologized more than once. I tried to make him understand that I’m not rejecting him as a person. There’s only so much I can do.
All together it was a very nice weekend for me. The phone call with my Mom and siblings gave me so much energy and happiness. I asked my Mom if she would visit me some time this year. She could see her family and go places she liked and show me the places where she went as a girl… I told her it would be so much fun. And I would love her to meet my friends and see what I do these days. She told me she would see what she could do. I told her that I would help her pay for the flight as well and my aunt already said that she’ll be there for financial support as well. I don’t know, that would be like a dream come true but I can’t get my hopes up. I know my family is pretty poor and I actually make so much money with my lousy job that I could afford to pay half of the ticket if I saved for a few months. I know my family would have a very hard time paying for it… Maybe the financial situation will improve once my brother is out of the house (one less mouth to feed, so to say). I’ll see, I guess.
I’m working on some major homework at the moment and I have about 10 (!!!) posts half finished in my drafts-folder but I can’t concentrate on writing something that actually has a point. So today I’m doing a pointless Tuesday. I present you:
7 pointless thoughts – on beds.
1. My friends find it weird and pointless that I iron all my sheets and bedding. “It’s so stupid,” they say, “it gets all wrinkly once you sleep in it anyway!”. That is true, but I think ironed stuff in general smells like heaven and I like my bedding to smell like heaven! Plus, I might be imagining this, but it feels soooooo much softer once it’s all neatly ironed!
2. I think I wrote a post on this ages ago… I bought this really fancy mattress. When I lived with my family all the ones there were kind of used and not uncomfortable, but also not high quality. I splurged on my own mattress, mostly because I suffered from back pains from time to time. I bought one of those fancy memory foam 7 zones with extreme awesomeness things. Downside: You have to turn it over every 2-4 weeks and it’s so heavy, I always need help.
3. I always sleep on my right side. I can’t fall asleep in any other position. And once I’m asleep, I’m asleep. Seriously, you could have a band playing right next to me, I won’t wake up. I’m used to sleeping with noise in the background. Downside: Now that I’m living alone, I need 5 different alarm clocks placed in places that I can’t reach from a sleeping position to wake up in the morning. Unless my roommate is home and awake to wake me up.
4. My bedroom is a mix of old furniture I repaired and beautified and Ikea furniture. I’m obsessed with Ikea.
5. I do not like colorful bedding. I like things in the bedroom to be almost clinical white. Lots of people don’t like this sterile feel but I love it. Colorful bedding and sheets feel dirty to me.
6. Back to the swedish obsession: Imagine Ikea had a baby with H&M, what do you think would come out? H&M Home. It’s pretty pricy and I don’t know if H&M US has it (it’s not on the American page so I guess not), but I love almost all the things they make. They’re actually really cheap once they’re on sale. I bought these duvet covers in white with 2 different prints, the one on the imagine and one with an china-ink orchid design for 10 Euro each on sale. I was hyped.
7. I make my bed every day. If I forget to make it in the morning, or don’t have time, I will make it the moment before I go to sleep. It doesn’t matter that I’m about to mess it up again. I will make it in my PJs and jump right into it. I can’t stand sleeping in beds that are not made.
I went on a date with Daniel a few days ago. Dinner and the movies. I got dressed up nicely, put on make up, curled my hair. I was wearing bright pink lipstick and thought I looked very worldly, modern, normal. Just before I left the house Daniel called me asking to get something for him from the grocery store. I live much closer and it’s not a big deal for me to go there quick, so I went.
I felt good walking through the grocery store, looking forward to the night, and then I saw them at the check out.
Two of them.
Standing right in front of me in the line.
Chatting quietly.
Their long skirts covering their ankles, their pale faces tired but content and meek, part of their hair covered. With them, two toddlers and a baby.
Two evangelical christian women.
My heart started beating faster. I had never seen them here. The city I live in isn’t that big. I looked around. All the other lines were much longer than the one I was in. I wanted to get out fast, get our table at the restaurant. I looked at the stuff they were buying. Healthy food, fresh vegetables and fruit, bread baking flour. I looked at the things I was buying. Ice cream – a spontaneous pick, I just felt like it. A bottle of my favourite white wine and a bottle of Sprite because I like to mix those two. A pack of cigarettes, Daniel smokes on occasion. A bag of frozen Paella because there wasn’t any left at Daniel’s place and that’s what I love to heat up when I’m there and hungry. I felt ashamed, somehow. I looked at my bright pink fingernails, matching my lipstick so well. I thought of my lush soft curly hair that I invested the last hour into. My tight black leggings with a huge oversized shirt going almost down to my knees, one of those that look like you stole it from your husband or boyfriend. I realized how I must look to them. Like somebody who has no idea of the bible or jesus or the fact that I’m all wrong, all wrong. I didn’t look any different from the other girls and women around us. I was one of them, never a christian. I stared at them with I can only imagine to be huge shocked eyes. One of them saw me stare, and smiled at me. A smile filled with joy, encouraging. I smiled back to the best of my abilities.
I kept looking at them. And I thought to myself: I know you. I know what you do, how you live. I was like you. I was that little baby girl. I know what you believe, and I know that at least one of your kids is going to be like me. And you will be ashamed of it.
Somehow I wished I could tell them what I really am. I wanted to explain myself to them somehow. Apologize for being what I am. But I didn’t. When they had packed their stuff into their linen bags, and I was trying to balance all of my groceries in my hands, they blinked at me, smiled and wished me a good evening. I smiled back and wished them the same.
Since I’m so uninspired and I didn’t feel like I had anything interesting to add to the blogosphere for days I decided to talk about something very dear to my heart today.
It’s one of my favourite things. One of the things I can’t live without. One of the things I could talk about for days.
Let’s talk about food!
I’m obsessed with eating anything that is only remotely edible. I’ll try everything at least once. I know nothing such as disgust. It’s made in a desert by bedouins, who used questionable meat and a brownish paste you suspect to be made of mostly camel poo? I’ll eat it! And no, I didn’t mean that in a racist way. Oriental food is among the best in the world and I would give a lot to wander through Marrakesh’s streets and try everything I see.
But moving on: German food. Over the last couple of years german food has been kind of “hyped” in the US. I mean restaurants that promise you 100% original german food. I’ve been to two when I still lived in the US and now that I live in Germany I can tell you that what they sell you there is a wild mash-up of things people here wouldn’t mash together if you paid them to. I have earned a lot of disgusted looks when I suggested to eat sour kraut AND red kraut on the same plate. “WHAT? You’re not going… WHAT??? You can’t do that. That’s…. DISGUSTING!” There’s actual, unchangeable rules which kraut is to be served with certain meats. Example: Sour goes ONLY with pork, red ONLY with beef. No mixing cause that’s like a major crime.
I found that the American “German” restaurants also mash-up too many areas when it comes to food. I mean sure, you want variety, but you actually end up missing out on a lot of amazing things because they want to serve what you imagine to be very german. Example?
Bread. I have yet to see a good bread meal in a german restaurant. Not even the restaurants here serve a real good one… that is, unless you go to a beer garden. That’s where the good foods are!
There is nothing like a beautiful sunny day at the beer garden with a traditional bread meal:
The yellowish paste you see on the second picture is the real good stuff. It might look gross, but it’S heaven. The paste is called “Obatzer” (sometimes “Obatza”). It’s a dialect word that translates into something like “mashed up”, “mixed” or “mess”. It’s not a very positive word as it implies messiness and a bit grossness as well. It consists of a variety of mashed up cheese (varying from beer garden to beer garden) and some butter. The color comes from the spices used, typically salt, pepper and red (bell) pepper powder. Additional spices may be used but don’t have to. And oh, it is soooo good! It’s perfect for hot days, and serving it on plates is a crime. You get actual wooden plates or simply pieces of wood that it’s served on. I’m lucky to live in beer garden heaven and the last few days have been warm and nice, the beer garden season is about to start, I can’t wait!
Another thing that you might find disgusting at first is pancake soup. Yes, that is soup with actual pancakes in it. The pancakes are made without any sweet stuff you might add (such as vanilla, sugar or cinnamon). Just plain pancakes (flour, eggs, milk, a hint of salt). Once they are a bit cooled they are rolled and sliced into fine, thin pieces and then warmed up in broth (any you like). It’s called “Flädlesuppe”, which basically means… well, pancake soup!
Among the favourite fast foods here is something called Döner (Or Kebab). It’s, as you might have guessed, of oriental origin. I know there’s kebab in the US, but this is different.
It’s basically flat bread filled with real good chicken (or beef, never pork) and tons and tons of vegetables… tomatoes, lettuce, kraut, onions and so on. On top they put a yoghurt-garlic dressing.
The döners (that are commonly ate as ‘sandwiches’ here) are real big… like, spread your fingers as far and round as you can, the döner is typically bigger than the circle of your hand (unless you have REAL big hands). I can’t eat a whole one alone!
It’s sooo good… hmmm I should get one tonite!
One of the reasons why it’s so popular is the price. A Döner is 3 Euros on average … how much is that, maybe $4 to $5. A half way decent McDonalds meal is 8 Euros… thats $10-$11! And that’s a basic one with no fancies. You will easily pay $15 per person for a McDonalds meal here. Which is funny because for the same amount I could have fancy italian, chinese or even sushi and be just as full!
So, what is the weirdest food you’ve ever had? Can be foreign but doesn’t have to be. What did you think would be disgusting but ended up tasting great?
I recently read this novel, Delirium. And it felt a bit like my story. Well, it’s actually young adult fiction but I was recommended to take a look at it and ended up loving it. Recently the sequel called Pandemonium was released and I enjoyed that as well.
Now, for the many of you who have not read it, here’s a real short summary: Lena is born into a future where people believe love is a sickness. In order to stay healthy, they get “cured”, meaning a part of their brain, the one responsible for emotions, is removed. The cure is administered around the age of 18. People wh are cured can’t feel emotions anymore, neither love nor hate, and every day is the same to them. Now, Lena falls in love and decides to run away, hide in the woods and stay uncured – an invalid, illegal and pretty much KOS.
It’s supposed to be a futuristic, dystopian novel but all of it felt awfully true to me. Not having emotions brings you closer to God, life the same every day, the same routine, no surprises. The past forgotten as soon as a new day breaks… forgiven?
Lena, the main character is terribly afraid of love. She tries to ignore it, tries to get rid of it, tries to do anything it takes to fall out of love. Doesn’t that sound terribly familiar?
So many people live in a world where they aren’t allowed to love as they please, or even show emotion. The more neutral you are towards other people – even “just” friends – the better.
So many times I thought YES, YES, YES when I read it. So many times I felt like I would have reacted the same way. Run away when you’re feeling too much. Trying to be the good girl everyone expects you to be, being afraid of the world around you, trying desperately to fit in but failing again and again… and, finally, being locked up in the house like Lena, with a family trying to “protect” you, trying to make you “understand”.
I don’t know why but I feel like the author didn’t intend to capture truth in this weird society. I think she wanted to come up with a real shocking, surreal world. But it’s not surreal, it’s true. And that’s what shocks me a bit.
I wonder, do people actually read this and think to themselves that it’s so unlikely that would happen, it’s so unlikely it’s already happening?
Yeah I’m just raving but this book really touched me. I just felt like my life, our lives, are made into a piece of fiction that most would consider totally impossible to be real.
If you don’t mind reading a book that “feels” written for 15-20 year olds, I definitely recommend it. It’s an easy, fast read, good entertainment for in-between when you don’t really want to think too much.
come out? H&M Home. It’s pretty pricy and I don’t know if H&M US has it (it’s not on the American page so I guess not), but I love almost all the things they make. They’re actually really cheap once they’re on sale. I bought these duvet covers in white with 2 different prints, the one on the imagine and one with an china-ink orchid design for 10 Euro each on sale. I was hyped.
