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“To say I was dreading the dinner party would be the understatement of the century.” ~Blogtember~

wordpress dinner party


To say I was dreading the dinner party would be the understatement of the century. You could say those are just not made for me, but the truth is: I am not made for them. ‘Dinner party’ – especially the one I had been invited to – that sounds like fancy drinks, exquisite cuisine. They are not the problem. I might be clumsy, but I am able to behave now and then, so there is a good chance I will not spill a drink, drop a tiny decorative piece of the (or even the whole) hors-d’œuvre or spill sauce down my dress.

And right away we have entered the realms of the real problem: the dressing part. I generally feel awkward with no matter what kind of clothes I am wearing (and yes, I do wear them, I am not a nudist). They never seem to fit me right or make me look weird. When it comes to an invitation like the one tonight things get even worse. Take a random movie scene of a woman rummaging through her clothes, divide it by lack of valerian pills, add some more frustration and subside some action and find me, sitting on my bed, wardrobe closed, going on how about I have NOTHING to wear. In funny pictures you see this line in combination with an overcrowded wardrobe and people think it is so ridiculous. What is so absurd about that? Yes, there is fabric in my wooden clothes container and I do not claim it is little filled. Still, there is nothing to wear, or let me specify: there is nothing to wear for me! Ergo: I got nothing to wear. Especially not tonight.

There are five sections in my armoire:
The ‘last fit into this three years ago’-one. The ‘bought it cuz I was on diet / planning to go on diet and surely will fit in soon / next season’, the ‘needs to be sewn when I have time’ – ‘matches everything I don‘t have’ and”kept it for sentimental reasons’-one accompanying it. And that is only the stuff that is INSIDE. There is another pile of clothes on a chair that was supposed to be my make-up-seat, but it has been long since I was able to actually use it for that reason and not to stack a one meter-high hill of clothes that have been washed, but just put aside to put more clothes onto my drying rack so they could end up on and make the hill become a mountain.

…By the way; the dinner party started at 8PM and the hors-d’œuvre was a delicious shrimps cocktail. I did not try it, a mate just texted me. When I was still home. Looking for clothes, pondering if there was a chance I would make it till dessert.

Me, Myself And Social Media ~Blogtember~

wordpress laptop


Unlike many of my friends I got my first computer quite late. I never had a gameboy or anything either and internet was something I first used around the year 2000. The highs and lows of social media came way after that. I must have made my premiere entrance to those realms around the year 2003, (whoot, decennial!!) and my first chats took place in form of every ten seond-messages on my email-account or IMs on boards. Back then I had no net at home and the university computers and my net-mates‘ had different ideas of compatible chat programmes.

I spent a lot of time on RPG-boards, something that might not come to your mind when thinking about forms of social media right away, even though it totally belongs there. I made a lot of connections through those sites; I have met friends there I would not want to miss in my life and who I am sure I might not have gotten in contact with another way.

The same goes for facebook, that I have a love and hate relationship with ever since I registered. I got into closer contact with people I saw many days a week at uni or the jobs, but our friendship only really started to grow during our evening or night long talks. Yes, we had telephones before; (I still remember those lovely old times when we could talk to one and the same person for free for 13 hours had we wished to. Yes, internet gives us back that option, but still it was different with those old telephones… if you do not remember, you might not understand). So we did have phones, of course, but would you really call up a person you do not know that well or send a text message around 11pm or even later just to comment on a line he or she had said sometime during the day? Maybe not. But on facebook, you can. It is less ‚intrusive‘ from time to time. You can reply when you have time and want to. (There is a whole extra book to write concerning the way people behave when using social media, it would take too long to go there now.)
It offers options you can either take and use or leave. It can create both closeness and distance and like one tends to do with many new things, I overused it in the beginning to the point I was about to delete my profiles. I have just recently gotten into things like twitter and blogging, so I cannot really say much about those so far. Now, all of the above, how did it change me? I do not think it did all that much actually or that there was a point where I stopped being my old me and – boom! – became my new me. Social media rather accompanied me and there are a lot of pros and cons about that topic.
All I can tell for sure is that I like my social media and as much as I need a time off of it now and then I would not like to return it and get my money time back. Some of it maybe. So if anyone knows about a time travelling agency nearby, let me know.

A Walk to Remember ~Blogtember~

street. wordpress

When a mate sent me a link to ‚Blogtember‘ I was excited and wanted to participate right away. Well, ‘I wanted to participate, but then rescheduled shortly after‘ might not be the best start for joining, still that is the way it is. I can give a thousand reasons why I won‘t make a regular posting to it, but as Jenni has said, ‚there are no rules‘. 😛

A particular topic has planted itself in my memory, though. I first read it was about ‘being afraid‘ and might of missed the ‘very‘ in it, but at that point the post had already been written. I am not desperately trying to find a connection that is not there, just to be able to say ‘Yay, I blogtembered‘, but since it was this what set off my entry today, I thought I needed to credit.

There are lots of things to write about concerning fear – I am sure, if we all had to name as many of the fears we have within 10 seconds, we would at least make it to five. There are big ones, small ones, those that paralyse us, some that we have learnt to deal with, others that drive us mad, some we do not even realize we have anymore. They can be blocking, but some are even necessary because they make us cautious. We need to face them to get rid of them and sometimes find that we should have done so ages ago, another time realize that when it happened was exactly the right moment.

Yesterday I have found myself back in an area I have spent a lot of time in, even lived there for a while, but ever since not returned to. Only while approaching the metro station it suddenly hit me, how familiar this place once had been. Walking down the streets I passed by houses and shops I had seen or been to so often and memories overwhelmed me with the force of an orcan.
There have been lots of good and nice times there, but also some of the worst I ever had to experience took place or started in those green and quiet streets and when I left it was not for good.

Like always when years later you return to a place you used to see on a daily base, you try and match it with the picture you have in mind. A few weeks ago I visited a house I grew up in and though I have never forgotten the house number I went back and forth to check if I was at the right spot. Other buildings still looked as if I had just time-travelled back, but ‚my‘ house must have been torn down and rebuilt. For several minutes I just stood there, lost in photos and movies in my head, listened to voices from the past. I would not have noticed anything from real life then. When I woke up I stared at the pink-purple walls of the Kindergarden next door and back at what I had tried to find here, but it was all gone and so I left.

Yesterday it partly was the same. I had a picture in mind and then saw reality. Shops had moved a few metres or completely disappeared, houses had been torn down and rebuilt. The only person I recognized was working in a fast food stand like he had been doing for about ten years. Continuing my ways I wanted to pass by the street I had lived in, but my feet would not let me, so I entered it with mixed feelings. In comparison to the other childhood-place I had not planned to come here, I was not prepared, but taking the bus to reach my actual destiny just seemed stupid. Two stations only and lovely weather, you get my point.

When I was younger I detested changes, I loathed them up to an extent that I would not accept them in my favorite series or books either. Or perhaps, especially not there. A good friend of mine has once claimed that the reason why we even cry over a animated character‘s
death was that that world had to remain untouched, had to function as a steadiness in our everychanging life. And she was right. There are people who read and watch without many emotions left right after having finished dealing with the respective medium. I might not be devastated over characters‘ demise anymore like I used to in my teenage years still even later on it was hard to even accept other major ‚dreamworld‘-novelties. When people from one of my favorite teenage series left school to go to college; I was deeply saddened once more. You can call it stupid, but dealing with a lot of changes anyway, this was a part of my life that was still about to come and I wanted to hold on to some steadiness in my fantasy world my everyday life could not provide during these months. It was like trying to Peter-Pan-like cling to childhood when I had to grow up. Had he knocked at my window back then; I would have joined / followed him without a second guess.

Part of yesterday‘s respective street name means ‚beautiful‘, but there was hardly anything like that left. I lack the ability to understand how an area that has been famous for its warm colors of yellow, sand and terracotta could now mostly be turned into grey facades. Cold bright grey and cold dark one. They tried to make it look chic, but all they did was taking away the lovely flair it once had. The warmth had gone and so had the feelings.

I had been afraid to come back to this place. When I finally did it was unplanned and even if it just was a superficial return from the outside, it was a deep one on the inside and as I went on, a huge lump inside of me disintegrated.
The new layout had changed everything. The old spirit was gone. You would not have liked it, M., not quite our style.

Brian D. Buckley

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