Truth and dare: speak your mind

Why is it so hard for us to speak our minds? At least in a sober condition....? A few drinks usually help to loosen the tongue. That´s probably why kids and drunk people are supposed to tell the truth. But why is it that we struggle so much with beeing honest, although we claim so much to do so? Why can´t we say straight ahead what we want and what we think? Is it not to protect others or not to hurt ourselves?

To me it happens on a daily base. While my mind thinks "I miss you and I want you all over me" what I actually say is usually "what´s up?". The situations are countless. Friends who don´t keep promises or dissappoint me I usually want to spit all my hurt feelings right in their face. But "it´s alright" ususally wins. Here are some examples with translations:

  - I like you = you re so hot I want to eat you alive / damn, you´re way smarter than me

  - I´m not in the mood today = I know I´m only your second best alternative and that´s not enough

  -  we´ll do it another time = you must really think I´m heellla stupid

  -  congratulations = you did not move one finger to deserve this, bitch, you just got lucky

  -  he´s nice = your boyfriend is so dumb

  - I really don´t know him = we fuck occasionally but that´s none of your business

  - I´m sorry I got so much work to do = I´d rather masturbate in the tub than waste my time on that bs

  - I´m really sorry = i really think you suck and I´m not sorry at all

    

Very rarely establishing an honest behavior becomes part of my reality. Towards really good friends I would admit that I can´t stand them this very moment, that it´s hard to like them because of their actions. Also sharing needs and wishes with people I appreciate takes place. "I would really like you to bite my neck", "could you pleace fuck me reckless", "I feel dissapponted and random when we are not in touch for weeks. please don t do that". VERY rarely.

To be honest you have to be brave enough to stand a nother persons reaction. And this might not be what you wish for or imagine. And that´s actually fine! As it´s not gonna kill you or them. It´s better and also easier to deal with something real, something visible than with thoughts inside peoples heads. It gives them opportunity to actually react, to recognize your perspektive and take care of your needs, maybe even fullfill your fantasy. You´ll figure out a way, does not matter if it´s good or bad. And when people ask me tomorrow what I did on new years´ eve I´ll tell them: I hate new years parties and spend the evening with comic books, codein and popcorn and it was great.

Happy new year everyone!

FAQs

1. Pinkeln andere auch in die Dusche? 
2. Wie umständlich ist Intimrasur für belaibte Menschen und Schwangere?
3. Wieviele Menschen vögeln die Menschen, die ich vögel, während sie mich nicht vögeln?
4. Haare grau wachsen lassen oder färben?
5. Die 50-50 kaufen oder Kaugummi?
6. Ist es dekadent Pfandflaschen am Bahnhof stehen zu lassen?
7. Was ist ekliger : Kot oder Kotze?
8. Wie oft darf man stinkende Sportklammoten noch tragen?
9. Ist es ok vorm Bewerbungsgespräch zu trinken?
10. Ist Star Wars wirklich so gut?
11.  Wenn ich die Freundin meines besten Freundes kacke finde, finde ich ihn dann indirekt ebenso kacke?
12. Sind mir Brain-Komplimente lieber als Titten-Komplimente?
13. Wie oft kann man Seinfeld Folgen gucken, eh sie nerven?
14. Ist Zeit wichtiger als Geld?
15. Wäre Sophie Scholl ein guter Hangout?
16. Wie groß wäre mein Penis, wenn ich ein Mann wäre?
17. Wäre ich lieber blind oder taub?
18. Was sollte ich noch studieren?
19. Ist der Kater am nächsten Morgen schlimmer als sich auf der Party zu langweilen?
20. Weiß meine Apothekerin, dass ich Vomex nur für mich kaufe?

Tuna and depression - clean up before you leave

If there is one thing in the world I promised myself NOT to do, it´s that I would not kill myself. No matter how heavy the feeling, no matter how dark the path or hopeless the future, I would NOT kill myself. 

When I was eleven years old I watched my mum die of an overdose. I found her after school on the kitchen floor. Foam was dripping down her chin on her pale chest, emphesizing the maple white colour of her skin. The blood running from her nose making its way to her bright red lips. Magnifizent I thought, how she managed to chose almost the same colour for her lipstick. She had cleaned up the kitchen. I could not decide weather to admire the blinking kitchen sink or her flipping body and the little shocks running through it. I stood frozen, not sure how to react. Two deep breaths, three deep breaths later I took two pieces of bread. With the orange kitchenknife I smeared a thick  layer of maionaise on it. Hell yeah, I made myself a tuna-sandwich.  Then I called my dad. 

"Just go to your room", he said with a calm clear voice, "it´s gonna be fine". I knew he was right, it would. Upstairs I opened the lid of my record player and put on Jefferson Airplane. Sitting on my knitted bedcover, chewing tuna and bread i watched the black vinyl spin. There were no more noises from downstairs.
She had chosen pills. There were various of them everywhere in the house. Some to calm her down, some to make her sleep, some to wake her up and some to allow her to think other than dark thoughts. She never cooked meals but pills we always had. Since I can remember she was fighting beeing soaked in this spiral of dark and negative thoughts. She had stopped slicing up her skin but never stopped slicing up her soul.

Thinking of her death was soothing. She would not have to struggle anymore with the exhausting things of daily life like getting up, getting dressed, leaving the house.... I heared the doorlock and my dead calling an ambulance. He did not cry, he did not scream. 

Climbing down the stairs I could see him kneeing next to her. Gently he ran his fingers through her dark hair, wearing a warm smile on his face. The sunlight danced on the kitchen sink. "Look, she s finally in peace. Ain´t it beautiful?", he said. 

It´s funny how even nowadays tuna sandwiches and blinking kitchen sinks would remind me of my dads smile and my mums suicide. Things did not change much afterwads, they just went on. But I would never kill myself. I would never kill myself, because I did not believe him that she was in peace.

asymptote - agreeing in difference

People are great. Honestly! Pretty much everyone. I like the kind ones, but way better I like the mean ones, the difficult ones, the jerks and monsters. The reason for this is a pretty simple one: i consider them different from myself. Some show differences in a positiv way, some just scare the living crap out of me. The greater the difference the better. There is literally nothing I could be less interested in than people simular to myself. Just like you or probably most people, I m very aware of and familiar with my own disfunctions, failures and triggers. So there is nothing exiting about that. Therefore people with a completly different and alien mindset attract me a lot. There is a lot to learn and figure and and understand. Challange is attractive. There s no need to agree with their views, positions and argumements but it is a clear reminder these perspectives exist and are to be respected. 

The approach towards these people is always very exiting. I personally have a very hard time beeing open and honest and trust them. It s a good exersize. And to be honest: usually I just stay at a safe distance. But with some of them it s a mysterious spiritual connection. It s like finding a negative, your aenima. The combination would build something whole, something round and complete. It took me some time to understand that respect and appreciation of the others exitence was the reason for this. This offers a solid foundation for a dialogue, a discurs. And while observing and understanding, the two positions move closer and distance shrinks. Like two curves in an axis of abscissas. But people are people and noone is free of angst. A minimum amount of mistrust will always remain. And just like an asymptote we move closer and closer in time, never crossing. As we are not brave enough to stumple into each others beeing and accepting completly.  It s a soothing but at the same time sobering metaphor. What instruments or circumstances would be necessary to manage this remaining distance? Should anyone have ideas or proposals for turning an asymptote into a tangent, please feel free to write. Collision is probably something harsh, but at the same time it sets free a lot of enery. It would be a waste not to use it.

bye bye baby, bye bye - two perspectives on abortion

September 13th is quite a special day for my best friend and me. For each of us in an own special way. This year we happened to spend it together. The two of us have been friends for nearly a decade.  A decade of fun and failure...

Eight years ago we were sittting stoned on a dirty matress in his room, watching Pontus Alvs´strongest of the strange projected on the bedroom wall as he said he would have something weird to tell me. His girlfriend, who he had been dating for nearly a month, was pregnant. She was 18, he 19 by the time. Getting the baby would not be an option he said slightly confused. He would gladly pay the 140€ an abortion would cost. They did not really discuss their positions in this. They did not find a consens. To be honest they did not really communicate the issue at all. She arranged a date with her gynocologist. He drove her home after the procedure.  This was equivalent with their brakeup. 

On september 13th four years ago I got up at six in the morning, putting on warm stuff for the ugly cold weather outside and hoping not to be late as usual. The abortion clinic was about an hour away. To be honest the atmophere around was pretty cosy and i felt way more comfortible then going to the dentist. Warm light probably to smooth the decision. I decided not to get an general anesthesia, a local one would do. And while a nice lady, I had only met once before to discuss everything, was inserting a mini hoover into my lower body, I was thinking how cool it was that she could just suck my problem right out of me. 15 min later, maybe 20, I felt only a little pain and tired but internaly so eased. The next day I had nearly forgotten about it. I would not have to destroy peoples relationsships by admitting my pregnancy. I would not have to deal with responsability and I would not have to take into concideration someone elses point of view. Fucking awesome. I could not have been more greatful.

My decision was made all by myself. I did what felt right for me in this very moment and in regard to my future life. Thinking now about having a four year old kid to take care off would literally freak me out. I m not a mum.

While my best friends girlfriend was brave enough to deal with someone elses reaction, she still did what she felt was expected from her. Maybe she herself would have made a different choice. Looking back at my own choice, I would do it again the very same way. Sounds selfish, right? It might appear fair to inform your lover about the consequences of your interaction but at the end of the day it s still the women dealing with the physical and emotional consequences of such situations. Although sometimes it seems women are expected to feel sorry and broken, to me it was a relief.

And while I was knocking on wood things were solved this way in the past, my best friend said: "If today-me would have been confronted with this situation it would be really ok to keep it. It would have been eight today." Gladly we could get stoned and watch the stars on the beach. Without kids....I wish every women would be free to choose which way she wants to go. I m greatful I am.

unfortunate scars

The left side of my face is decorated with a fistsized light scar. When I was five years old a kid from my neighbourhood stabbed a fork into my cheek. Can you believe a person sucking even as a child? I d rather be spooned then forked.

PTT - Post Travel Trauma

Wanderlust is a serious illness. To travel, to experience and add new perspectives is what infected people live for. Also to see new places, meet people, make mistakes and learn new thigs. There are two approaches to be found among travellers: planners and doers. 

Planners know exactly where they want to go to and what they want to do. People like this book return air plane tickets, look for hostels and accomodation in advance. They check transportation, the money exchange rate and make a list of basic sentences in the native language so they won t have any trouble at any given time. Weeks in advance they browse the internet and travel blogs to get an idea of the possibilities their trip offers. These people are lucky. Leaving with a small set of expections, that will probably be fullfilled they return after a few weeks to their regular homes and jobs and lives.

Unfortunately I don t belong to this exquisit group. Doers are the people I feel more solidarity to. People like us book a one way ticket 24 hours before the trip. Our choice is more emotion- and mooddriven. We go to places and just see what happens. We join people we like, visit places we never even thought about, stay at homes we never thought we had access to and make friends with people so different from ourselves. This approach is connected to  various difficulties. Due to its emotional and intuitive nature, it infects you, connects you and changes you in a very deep and sentitive place. Once you are changed going back and returning to the regular (should you have had one) life is almost impossible. People like us concider this new places homes, see people we stayed with as family and can t wait to meet our travel companions again. It s obvious : getting back home is suffering. It s discomfort and waiting for the next departure. After months of living out of your backpack, owning a wardrobe of ten pieces of clothing, sleeping on muddy wooden floors and eating fresh fruit from the trees, getting back home is reevaluating your old life. All this things you own and never use, the cloths you collect and never wear, the people you remember but dont care about and the structures you follow but actually hate.... it s disgusting and leaves some of us breathless. 

The change within leads to change of circumstances. You try to get rid if unnecessary balast, to ease yourself and get ready for departure again as soon as possible. But till the day you enter a train and or plane again your days are usually struggle. It s impossible for you to understand how doing a job you don t like and living a daily routine is enough for so many people. You don t understand why people waste their time on "friends" they actually don t even like or respect. You don t understand why buying stuff gets people so much more exited then experience. And most of all you don t undertand why they don t understand you. You are getting sick of justification and explaining things for the hundredth time. The things and people you had before will never again be enough. You met people along the way, that you feel more connected to as they speak the same language you do, cause you are driven by the same needs.

These are the feelings no travel guide or blog has ever tried to prepare you for. For the empty feeling of stuff-filled life, for the disgust of having too many options at the supermarket, for the ignorance of superficial relationsships. Trips leave you devestated and confused. It takes weeks and months to recover, get yourself in a more or less funktional mode again and sometimes it just does not. But be aware: everyone who really loves to travel suffers from this ugly illness. People just don t talk about it. Instead of great jungle-pictures i would really like to see every once in a while the red-eyed crying folks getting off an airplane from a place they lost their heart to. Just to make reality a bit more honest and help the realization that home is not a place but a feeling.

Take care. Love