Just a quick update.
It's Sunday, I had an hour longer to sleep and I decided to allow myself chocolate cornflakes for breakfast, so, all in all, not a bad morning.
It is, however, also the morning before Halloween and there is lots left to do!
We are nearly done with the decoration, which I will take picture of today, so you can have a look, and baking is pre-prepared (which simply means I baked cupcakes but the icing is still missing).
Now, we will drive to my parents' house and continue with baking, decoration and coming up with some bizarre mechanisms to freak out my party guests...we'll see how that will work.
Additionally, and here the real horror starts, I will most likely have to drive with the car today after having had a two week pause from driving (for all who don't know, I am doing my driving licence at the moment) because of my toe and actually have completely forgotten how to drive. So, Austrians, watch out, because if you are run over by a maniac in a red VW caddy, it was me and I am awfully sorry.
No, this is not about a Halloweenish phenomenon where you suddenly realise there is an evil creature within you, controlling your every move (though that would be freaking awesome...my last words as a human on my blog before a psycho virus takes over me and turns me into a spooky zombie...).
This is about something much more banal and relatable - well, I hope. I don't know if you experience that as well, but sometimes I feel like there is a mean, smug bitch within me who sometimes takes over and turns me into a horrible person. I - my friendly, gentle and superb, humble person - am stuck within, watching this horrible bitch taking control. Suddenly I hear myself say things I don't want to say but this bitch is craving to fight and contradict everyone in the vicinity.
I had that since I was a child and it often happens with specific people or when I actually need to retreat from the world and, for some reason, can't. When I was a child, I spent some summers up in a mountain hut with my then best friend H. After ten days, we were only fighting and I had to be against whatever she said - whether I felt it this way or not.
As you can imagine, it gets really wearisome and exhausting to permanently fight verbally against people in your surroundings (which is why I cannot understand people who do that all their lives - I think it costs lots of energy). And I don't mean actual fighting. It is rather a subtle, passive-aggressive tone with which everything you say is infused. You negate everything the other person says and generally feature an attitude permeated with negativity.
I hate myself when I become like that, but the problem is, there is no off-button for the bitch within me. She is in full control until I had time to retreat and banish her. But even then she will linger in the corners of my mind, ready to attack when I show weakness (OMG, I sound like a schizophrenic, but I mean it in a rather metaphorical way).
It is like in the tale of The Snow Queen, where the mirror lets you see your worst self or something like that - my inner bitch brings out my worst qualities. However, I think she just mirrors my insecurity. She normally comes out when I am around people who correct me all the time, patronise me or subtly criticise my behaviour and the way I do things. For instance, in German there is a phrase which I simply HATE. I would say it is the same in English, but I am not sure whether it is as widespread as in German. It goes "you know that you...(insert what you are doing)". For example, "You know that you can use margarine instead of butter, right?" I think the phrase is condescending and horribly rude. I mean, if I knew it and it was the better way of doing it, I would do it, right? If I knew how to do it and still wouldn't do it, there must be a good reason for it. So why say it? It just shows your superior knowledge of something AND humiliates the person to whom you are saying it. It has NOTHING to do with constructive criticism and I think if criticism isn't constructive, don't be offended if the other person snaps at you.
So, the bitch comes to bite when there is someone worth biting, but that doesn't make it ok. After all, we mustn't allow our behaviour to be steered and influenced by external sources, or we will always have to compete. So, I hope in the future I can answer a person politely like: "No, I didn't know you could do that, otherwise I would have done it and I would appreciate it if you could tell me in a way that I don't feel humiliated. Do you want to show me how to do it?"
And then I would most likely think "bitch" in my head, but hey, I am not perfect, so cut me some slack...
It's nearly Halloween!!!!
My second favourite holiday after Christmas. Last year I was in England and, therefore, couldn't host a party, but this year everything is different. I am back home, my parents' house is even cooler than the farm and N is here! It's going to be great!!!!
I will share all details of my party with the unlucky people who couldn't attend and today was dominated by baking cake pops (if everything goes right, they will look like popped eyeballs in the end) and crafting decoration.
We looked up some inspiration for decoration (and by inspiration I mean stealing the idea) and came up with some great results.
We bought Styrofoam balls and painted them like eyeballs and threw white sheets over blown-up balloons which looks like cranky ghosts (mostly cranky because I painted their faces so, probably they would have smiled if only I let them...)
Additionally, we also decorated paper bags with creepy Halloweenish motives and the living room will only be lit in candlelight - it's going to be SOOOO amazing.
I will show you more about it on Monday, when it's actually Halloween, but you can have a sneak peek at my costume here, so good night and don't get eaten by vampires!!
It is Thursday morning and I have to rant about something. Well, in fact, this has been bothering me for quite a while but only recent days have boiled it up enough so I feel like writing about it now.
When I was a child, phones were quickly emerging out of nowhere and now they are mini super computers with calculators, games, cameras and - worst of all - internet. Don't get me wrong, I love my dictionary app where I can look up words while reading a book or Google Maps if I am lost somewhere; however, I have to say I HATE it that nearly everyone is now constantly looking up things on their phones IMMEDIATELY.
Gone are the days of the oblivious blissfulness of NOT knowing the answer to a question immediately. Passed the times where you would philosophise why things were as they were.
I HATE that. For instance, my man (sometimes), my sister and also many of my friends are constantly on their phones while talking to me, looking something up that popped up during the conversation. I, personally, think this is terribly rude and interrupts the flow of conversation. Why do we always immediately have to know the answer to a question? Well, I think, we don't. Look it up in the evening if you want but NOT while you're still talking to me.
Also, the permanent catching up. Friends ask you: "Do you know that?" or "Have you seen that?" and when you don't (which is primarily the case with me), they whip out their phones and immediately show you a ten minute long Youtube video you actually don't want to see or a picture of someone you don't even know, or, or, or...
Don't do that guys, I am not interested! You can send me a link (but after we said goodbye) and if on a rainy, lazy day, I decide to watch it, that's fine. Other than that, I don't want to bother with it. This behaviour has actually led to me lying to my friends whenever they ask me "Do you know that?". I just quickly nod and say "Sure, I've seen it on Galileo" (a German informative show on various topics) or "Oh, yeah, sure, now I know what you mean" when I see they are getting prepared to pull out their phones.
The sad truth is, most people aren't necessarily interested in what you are interested in. Deal with it. I mean, in the earlier days I was personally offended when my acquaintances didn't come to my concerts or read my blog but, hey, I am not going to their life events either because I COULDN'T CARE LESS.
Alright, this sounds a bit bitter and is not utterly true. I love hearing my best friend A sing (she's an opera singer). And speaking of her, I love her because of all my friends she is probably the only one who doesn't look up things on her phone constantly or updates her social media while talking to me. We talk about things and when we hit a question we don't know the answer to, we philosophise it until we've come up with a satisfactory (though mostly wrong) answer.
Seriously, people. Leave your phones in your pockets. Don't answer calls unless it is really necessary and wait with the looking up part until you're home. Not only because it is really, excruciatingly rude, but also because you might have the funniest chats trying to figure out an answer to a question you would have never asked.
This is not going to be about evolution. It is also not going to be a philosophical report about where we come from as I would only get a headache from that. This is about something else.
Every person has their weaknesses and strengths, right? Right. Today I will tell you about one of my biggest weaknesses and the consequences it led to.
I am terribly, horribly, horrendously AWFUL at giving directions. Seriously, my sense of orientation doesn't compare - it is unbelievably rotten and people always say I shouldn't say that and, surely, I couldn't be that bad - well, let me set some things straight by giving you actual proof.
A couple of years ago, my man and I went to Malaga in Spain. We had a great week in a lovely hotel (though it was freezing cold, they had a disagreement what constitutes too much AC). The sea was a short walk away and because neither my man nor me like the sea for swimming, we decided to rent beach loungers. Now, many of you will declare me and my man crazy, but to be honest, I think people who actually enjoy swimming in a huge dirty pond with lethal creatures in it should be labelled crazy, not the other way around. I mean, there was a jellyfish plague going on and, thankfully, we spotted one only in the last day or we wouldn't even have done the two pseudo-dips in the water before quickly running out and being relieved we survived. The jellyfish nearly touched me and if my man hadn't screamed JELLYFISH, JELLYFISH, JELLYFISH, I would most likely have been stung, so we were confirmed that the sea is a yucky and dangerous place but I am digressing here, so back on to the topic...
The beach loungers were AWESOME! Who would ever sit down on a sandy towel anymore? Loungers are the greatest thing for a sea trip and we gladly paid the 15 Euros for the full day. We lounged around (that's why they are called loungers) and had a great time watching the sea from a safe distance.
However, there was one backdrop with the loungers. They all looked COMPLETELY the same. And not even only the ones from our beach but from ALL the beaches. So, long story short, I went to buy chips at a booth and when I turned back, I realised that I had no fucking clue where to go. Everything looked the same and I couldn't remember where I had come from. Frantically scanning the area, I slowly paced ahead but for the love of God, I wouldn't find it. I was on the edge of panicking when I saw my man lying on his lounger, laughing so hard he was actually falling off it. Relieved, I ran to him where I could endure his mocking and laughing and there are still days he cries of laughter when he remembers. This same experience repeatedly happens in the public swimming pools as well, I just cannot find my towel anymore and run around like a headless hen, completely lost and helpless.
But now to today. At the moment N is here to celebrate Halloween with us and we took her car to drive up to my parents' house. You would assume I knew the directions, but, apparently, I don't. We drove on the wrong motorway and ended up nearly driving to Italy instead of driving to my parents. Seriously, hardly ever have I been more embarrassed - I mean in your own city!! But I freaked out, so I used the navigation system because I didn't trust my instincts anymore (and why would I?). So, in the end, instead of needing the usual twenty minutes to drive to my parents' house, we spent three quarters of an hour, but at least N got a nice tour of the Tyrolean villages. After all, it's all about what you make out of a situation, right?
After a long break, I am continuing with the Writing Project. For all who don't know (or have forgotten), the writing project is about a book called 642 Tiny Things To Write About. I think it is fantastic and if you love writing but lack original ideas, you should purchase the book because it really helps with inspiration.
I got it for my birthday from a dear friend and now am sharing my creative outflow.
Write the P.S. for the last letter ever sent from human to another:
"I told you so."
Rewrite the plot of your favourite book into a short children's book:
Once upon a time, there lived a little boy named Harry. His parents had died when he was a baby and now he lived with his aunt and uncle. They were mean, envious people and also had a son who was cruel, snobbish and very fat.
When Harry turned eleven, something magical happened. He would go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he would learn things like floating a feather, transforming animals, flying on broomsticks and making potions.
Harry was very happy to leave his mean uncle and aunt and soon was in Hogwarts where, for the first time in his life, he found a true and funny friend called Ronald. Ronald had hair as red as fire and his nose had many freckles.
There was also another student called Hermione but Harry and Ron didn't like her because she was a know-it-all. However, when they saw that Hermione was sad because she had no friends, they included her and soon were friends with her, too.
And Harry needed friends as a bad wizard wanted to kill him. His name was Lord Voldemort, but everyone was so afraid of him they only called him You-Know-Who or The Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord was very powerful, but he didn't have friends like Harry who supported him. He tried to kill Harry over and over again, but never succeeded and one day his meanness made him kill himself and Harry didn't need to be scared anymore. He celebrated with his friends all night long and they lived happily ever after.
I recently had a chat with my man about how much to tell third parties about what was going on in our relationship. He said he would prefer if fights, inside jokes and sexual aspects remain between the two of us upon which I reflected all the conversations I had had with my female friends and decided to not tell him what we usually discuss about out men.
I know it is a cliche and some of you might now yell at me when I say, although it is cliche that women have to talk about everything, I deem this to be true. At least with all the women I know.
Additionally, men are often not keen to discuss relationships problems and other issues, so what choice do we women have than to turn to each other? Even if it is just for the "oh, don't worry, my man does the same" phrase you dearly want to hear to confirm your relationship is not somehow flawed in an unusual way. So, even if it doesn't solve the problem, it helps me (and I guess other women) to hear phrases like "Oh, my man doesn't talk about his feelings either" or "My man is a slob, too, he wouldn't pick up his trousers from the floor if his life was dependent on it" or "my man gets drunk every weekend, too, I hate it but what can you do?"
As mentioned, these sentences do not solve the problem, but you don't feel so alone in your frustration the other half can sometimes cause.
I also daresay many men are utterly terrified of the thought that we women might discuss and compare every single part of him - and I can tell all men in the world, we do. Very much so. When we have a ladies' night, you picture us in short, slutty PJs, pillow fighting, massaging each other and showering together. In fact, none of these fantasies are true. In fact, we spend the evening talking about you, comparing you to the men of our friends. But relax, we don't do that because we want to downgrade or humiliate you, we just want to make sure our friends's men are bigger assholes than our own. In fact, this, again, is just about women competing with the best sex story and bragging about your own man but making it sound like a complaint, for instance, "My man needs so long to get it done, if only we could have sex lasting only ten minutes" or "my man is so muscular, he nearly crushes me every time we have sex" or "What? Your men cannot have sex twice in a row? I thought this was normal..." (Ok, the last one is only bragging anymore, no complaint there).
So, men of the world, I compiled a list which have been, are and will be discussed by your girlfriends when they come together:
And much more.
In case you now want to get rid of your girlfriend, don't, as I can assure you it doesn't matter for women whether you are talking about your lifelong boyfriend or a one-night-stand - we will always talk about you, your penis, sexual ability and your inability to deal with your emotions. Believe me, there is no getting out of it, but if you are lucky (and good in bed), your girlfriend will at least praise your sexual techniques and that is really not too bad, is it?
Remember when I told you last Saturday of my FOMO and whether I should go out or not? Well, from the blog post it looked as if I would be staying in, sip tea and go to bed early, right? Actually, it turned out to be quite a wild night which ended with me getting seriously hurt - physically and emotionally.
But let's start at the beginning.
Shortly after I had uploaded aforementioned post, my neighbours decided to throw the party of the millennium. Balkan music oozed through the walls and started to dictate my heartbeat and I decided it was a sign. Why not go out and share the Saturday night euphoria? Why not have a drink? So I dressed up and joined my man and his friends in smoker's bar (a) yes, we still have them in Austria and b) that is how eager I was to prove I could be something else than a spoilsport). I met man's friend's girlfriend who turned out to be a pleasant and sweet girl and I hope to see her soon again.
We drank, we chatted and I started a very nice conversation with a guy who is training to be a teacher (I know, I rolled my eyes inwardly at first, too, but he turned out to be really cool). Meanwhile, my man was getting more and more wasted and because I was preoccupied with flattering a guy with my wit and intelligence (and my English skills, god, I was such a show-off - every accent existent in the English language was covered by me during our conversation), I didn't realise he got out of control.
Everything was sweet and easy and eventually we moved on to another bar which is, sugarcoated, utterly terrible. In Innsbruck there isn't much space, I get it, but this bar was just a long hose with a bar. You were permanently pushed aside by rude people wanting to get in or out and you couldn't really move to the, admittedly cool, music. It came as it had to come, but, frankly, it came much worse than I had thought. Since setting one foot in that bar, I knew someone would step on my toe, but actually some jerk tossed over a metal chair whose edge landed on my toes. Screaming in pain, I ran to the bathroom, where I cried a little (no one else seemed to have noticed I had gone - the story of my life) and when I returned, my man was only swaying from one side to the other anymore, his eyes unfocused. Additionally to my presumably broken toe, I could carry him home now, thank you very much.
I struggled to the taxi and we got home - only to realise that our stupid neighbours hadn't finished partying yet, despite the fact that it was four in the morning.
Incensed, I sent my man to bed and knocked fiercely on their door. What you should know, I don't like trouble or conflict, so me knocking at a neighbour's door to complain should indicate how angry I was.
But now comes the best bit: this stupid woman opening the door actually justified their party by saying it was her son's birthday party. Her son is FUCKING TWO!
Unsure whether to call the police or the authorities, I settled for the first and went back inside my flat - only to find my man passed out on the bed.
Tear-stained and with pounding toe, I eventually called my sister and yelped into the phone she must come and pick me up (she lives like half an hour with the car away). Now hysterically heaving, I tried to explain what had happened and soon my sister agreed to get me ASAP. I ran down (the police was arguing with the neighbours in the meantime) and was waiting for my sister on the kerb, wailing and weeping like a baby - very graceful.
On the next day, everything was calmer and better and my man and I made up. My toe, by the way, wasn't broken but seriously bruised and is healing now, too.
So what have we learnt from this? If you settle for tea on a Saturday night, better stick to it - or generally, leave your apartment as rarely as possible. AND, don't go over to your neighbours, just call the police, because ever since the incident I have been dreading to leave my flat in case she is there. So, even if being this anonymous person calling the cops is really shitty and cowardly, it is better than an awkward encounter in the elevator with a woman who has the intelligence of a fly (no, that is mean, flies can do better) and the figure of a sumo hating your guts.
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