"Der Duft einer Zigarette wolle mir Schwung verleihen"

Today I decided to clean out my cupboards and take away the collection of empy bottles which has filled the space in my room quite effectively. This move showed me that indeed the cure for everything, as Robert Walser puts it ("The scent of a cigarette will provide me with pep"), is a well-portioned amount of daily cigarettes and alcohol. Which is what I have been consuming regularly lately, ignoring the fact that my last days have been haunted by sneezing, coughing and other lovely notions of bodily malfunctioning.

Nevertheless I have been very productive in studying, reading, cooking, baking and thoroughly enjoying life. Today I finally got to present a paper I should have presented two weeks ago, and thus I remain quite passive for the remainder of my seminars since other people now get the privilege of entertaining others with other interesting subjects on the matters discussed in the seminars.
Which, of course, doesn't mean complete silence from my side since I am expected to prepare myself thoroughly for every. single. fucking. seminar.
Yes, studying is a blast. But I'll survive.

I now also have an almost complete picture of the final papers I'll be writing for the seminars, which could imply them being ready in the end of the semester, which could imply much deserved time of academical rest for the whole months of August and September. One can only hope...

I have also now started my studies in Russian with the language tandem with my new very lovely, beautiful, smart and rather interesting oral torturer Julia, to whom I in return teach the secrets of German grammar. The project started quite slowly since I met her a couple of months later than hoped and the first lesson proved to be very challenging for me since all we ever did during our university Russian lessons was to learn something by heart and repeat it. Now I actually can learn to make discussion in Russian. Which is tres difficile, but certainly worth the effort, considering future plans to make a two-month trip through Russia.

Apart from academical enthusiasm I have also been enthusiastic in the kitchen, which is great, since life in a dorm doesn't really imply regular cooking, which is most fun when done in your own kitchen where you know what you have, where it is and that no one is currently using it.

So, all in all, sickness hinders nil, if motivation is at hand!

Also I should state my undying love for the Marburg jazzclub Cavéte (which means hollow space or box - and yes, the club/bar is small), where I am considered a regular already and where the Bordeaux and bartenders are great. And don't get me started on the music. A place where all the sounds you ever hear is jazz or something similar? WIN!


Really ignoring all health conditions and/or hoping that excessive consumption of garlic will cure me magically by tomorrow, we are going to visit Dana in Leipzig for the weekend.
So past, presend and future tense - happiness overdrive yet again, once more, and neverending.

To all the beautiful flowers who once bloomed in the garden of my heart
And with whom God did not give me more time,
for whatever reason

I will always open my door for you.
Always.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?

And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?


We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.

Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne,
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld ang syne.

We twa hae sported i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.

Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.


And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

LOL

(:

Ahhh, this is the Life.

Going to sleep at dawn for less hours than fingers on one hand, having prepared a pot of black tea for the too soon arriving morning , having started preparing for 12 hours of imminent academical mayhem on the zero hour of this very same day.


Viva La Vie Boheme!

...party!

Freud: Happy people don't fantasize. Their fantasy, their art, is escape, a way of repressing childhood traumas.

So I found out in today's seminar about literature science that writers are really nothing a bunch of sad sobs who need to cure their ailing souls via creativity. If you are genuinely happy with your life, you can't be a writer, nor would the notion ever occur to you.
Ah, but this blog is also part of my writing, so I already feel the neverending ache receeding. Thank you, mr. Freud!


As the last weeks have presented my soul with emotion again, I am, indeed, writing again. At least I have something in mind, sadly school matters hinder the progress of this endeavor.


Albeit minimal sleeping hours (...party!), I have managed to discover some of the most interesting parts of Marburg such as Café in the dark. Just like any nice place you go there to sit at the bar, have a glass of wine and relax with your friends. However, as the name implies, you do all of this without seeing any of your surroundings, because this magical place is concealed from the outside world. You need to pass two black curtains and cloak yourself into the black of this room, where your drinks and food are served by blind people.
So, in the beginning you feel a bit helpless and wait for somebody to turn the light on, because that really is the first impulse when being somewhere dark. Then you start to feel and hear your surroundings more and this new weird sensation actually makes you feel quite cozy. You spend a few hours in the dark and start convincing yourself that you do see some movement, however putting your hand 2 centimetres from your nose remains a futile motion.
As I tend to be the last person in any bar, we had the luck of sharing a cigarette with the students working there - who are mostly blind, by the way. I did my best not to look around in the room though since the experience in that room should remain on a sense-hearing-based level.
And so after the night finished we opened the curtain again, leading us back to the normal (well, from our point of view - no pun intended) world, from now on appreciating the ability of making eye contact and watching a person sit next to you a great deal more.
The saddest thought remains - the blind, who manage in this room considerably better than we do, because this is what their entire world looks like, will never get to open this curtain.

As always when something gets to me, I have enthusiastic utopic plans about this thing, so two notions stay in mind:
1) need to contribute to this project by financial and/or any other means
2) need to become a neuro-optometrist and achieve miracles concerning blindness


Whilst yesterday evening made clear that I am a very visual person, some music has also had me spellbound for the last three days, mr. Eugene Hutz and Gogol Bordello has long been a preference in Winamp and starter of wild dancing in any room I currently reside in, but the last three days this party has been going on in my ear and I can't stop it! PARTY!


Also, somehow I'm lately feeling very strongly how life is just too short. Too short to accomplish everything I have in mind.
There just are not enough hours in one day!

But the fleetingness of life is part of it's beauty - as sad as that might make me (but hey, sad people write and I like writing, yes, it's a vicious circle) - so I will embrace it, because this everlasting and everchanging condition brings contrast and thus balance to my soul.


For example, I really shouldn't drink so much.
But then, when you think about it, I really should drink more...

Ah, on that note. Internet tests tell me the following:

If you do not smoke, your life expectancy would be 1.06 years longer
If you do not have any stress, your life expectancy would be 0.11 years longer
If you do not have any sexual partner, your life expectancy would be 0.18 years longer
If you sleep 7 hours a day, your life expectancy would be 0.32 years longer


...party!


All in all, I remain an explosion of happiness.
Yours truly.

A dirty book is rarely dusty.

for a second there I believed I really had evolved.

Having found the healthiest expression of addictive behaviour: book-shopping.

Of course, the fact I do need some kind of addiction to keep me going is not good. If only I were a stronger woman...

but nay, "weakness, thy name is woman!", and if thy be at the least educated, then this be a good addiction to give in to.


But, apart from my acceleratingly filling bookshelves, the plan is to really go shopping on Wednesday with my lovely girlfriends (the value of having female friends is something I discovered only about two years ago. This piece of knowledge will never be forlorn again!). Need I be cured? Nay, quite the opposite, pampered and surrounded with beautiful things. Embrace thy nature, Woman!

As the great mr. Wilde put it: I can resist anything but temptation...

:)

"...a little bit jealous - like Medea"

I finally watched Annie Hall. And as all Woody Allen movies, I simply loved it. No one to get you laugh as hard and start thinking about how beautiful and ironic one single fucked-up, seemingly unimportant moment can actually be.
Life is a series of moments, we need to feel that more. Although I overdo it with that motion - I like to think of my life as a movie, always. One day I'll probably get my two feet on the ground. But really, this secret self-centered bubble I live in is how it always ends up.
So... yea.

Also watched Seraphine, true story based on the live of the artist Séraphine de Senlis. And yup, I liked it. Very refreshing and real.

Also watched The Libertine again, and still finding all those little nuances in Johnny's performance. So beautiful, simply brilliant..


The very enjoyable and sober month of April has come to an end and at 00:00 on the 1th of May we celebrated this with wine. Celebrations continued on Saturday in the jazzclub (I don't think Marburg has more than one Jazzclub, so I'm just calling it the jazzclub, okay.... and yes, google agrees with me for now).
And somehow we ended up in the dorm at a party among drunk people dancing in the kitchen.
All in a day's work...

It's a beautiful life.

And after it rains
There's a rainbow
And all of the colors are black
It's not that the colors aren't there
It's just imagination they lack

(Simon and Garfunkel - My Little Town)