Schneemädchen.

Es hat geschneit. Endlos viel. In meinem Kopf. 142 cm. Und es war jemand da. Vielleicht bist das gar nicht du. Und es schneit und schneit. Weil niemand sagt, was jeder weiß.

Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come

I want to tell you about my christmas... kinda.

I didn't really feel the christmas spirit this year, what with being home for no December weekend at all, no church service all December, no shoe polishing for St. Nicholas (well, I tried but lack sufficient tools), no guitar playing on Christmas Eve to look forward to (my brother celebrated with the family of his girlfriend for the first time)... so it didn't strike me as too outlandish, when I met with some old school friends on the 23rd and one of them told me, she and her family were not celebrating Christmas this year: "No presents, no Christmas, just a family dinner - so looking forward to it!", that's how she put it. And I understood. The humdrum shopping every year, the hectic pre-Christmas life, the sometimes forced family gatherings... it can be deterring...

I know Christmas is a cultural thing and while it my not be an exclusively christian thing anymore, it is in (formerly) christian societies where it really flourishes. And so if some people think it absolutely ridiculous to sing cheesy songs about a baby they do not believe in or observe the blending of secular follies and christian tradition with bewilderment, I will not persuade them to embrace christmas. Just like no one will make me embrace Yom Kippur. So that's that.
But at some point this Christmas Eve it struck me that those who had celebrated Christmas all their lives - by choice, may I add - and now decided to just let it slide, could not have celebrated it the way my family does, the way I do. Yes, we get each other presents. And no it isn't our main concern in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Yes, we go all out with the cooking for Christmas. And no it isn't just a chore, it is a family activity, an opportunity for extravaganza and joking and creating something together. Yes, we have a tight schedule on Christmas Eve starting at 7 in the morning and my last church service starting at 11 pm. But no, it is not just a hubbub we have to get through. Half past seven is the set dinner time and every step leading up to it, is what brings Christmas to life, is necessary to set this day apart from all the others. My little brother is terribly nervous, my mother is preoccupied with the sermons and the rest of us coordinate the normal everyday necessities with the Christmas preparations: Cooking something for lunch, arranging the presents in the living room, preparing dinner, hoovering the whole flat once more, learning poems and songs by heart, attending the two church services always ready to extinguish fire should one break out with all the candles... Yes, we have extended family over for Christmas. And no, we are not pretending to be and example of harmonious family life. We keep it in a time range everyone can stomach, so we all can make it through feeling good. We play the new games we got for Christmas, this year we'll go to the opera, we eat together, we talk, we depart.
Yes, we do all of these things. But neither of them is our priority. We are home. We relish in the fact that even my grandma still knows all the songs and poems and stories by heart. We are stressed out and sometimes hot headed, but we come back to this evening with a tenderness and a quiet that is worth all of it.

"Bist du der eigenen Rätsel müd?
Es kommt, der alles kennt und sieht..."

"I want you to die

the way I died." And isn't that all kinds of wrong? Isn't it vile and ugly and selfish and tremendously sad? It certainly is the reason why humans do not come with superpowers. Because they stop caring about the world and the greater good, once they are thrown off balance.

There's no point in crossing your fingers for this Friday. What hasn't happened in those last 20 years, will surely not come about now. There's no reason to keep holding on to the misery and the carelessness. It is ugly. And tremendously sad. No superpowers. No apocalypse. Just the two voices in your head. One is saying "push through"... and the other one is lying.

Ladies,

I am a real catch. Even if I say so myself. :)

"Don't move so slow..."

"... I can't take it..." Because I felt I was getting nowhere and because I need all my procrastination for university and work, I decided to set up a new plan for training that is less vague and trades rest days for alternative activity. I am on it since Monday and so far I am not quite sure what to think of it. I haven't run this slowy for a very long time. And I haven't laced up my running shoes for a mere 5 kilometers for the same time. It feels a bit ridiculous. But I will give the plan a chance. So far it is laid out for 6 weeks and the intervals(starting next week! :) ) look quite challenging. Hopefully, it will be less frustrating then. For now I am just running reeeeeeeeally slowly. Which might be an advantage considering the snow and the ice on the street...

--

If somehow, miraculously, you were given ten days, ten nights and no morning beyond - where would you take them? If you had ten days left, what would you eat, where would you sleep, what would you see? For 240 hours, how much would you allow yourself to feel? If we were given counted time, instead of endless endeavour, would all of this still matter? Would we still plan ahead and have to deal with regret? If we were sure it ended, would we begin to begin? Or can't we break out, is this numbness our skin?
Maybe you have ten days. Or maybe it's two. Or twenty-thousand. Maybe it's always to soon. And if I had ten nights and no morning beyond... I'd spend some with you.
And nothing hurt.

Hey, they are playing that song...

I just wondered if you will remember the song. I guess, the pain will stay. I will have to find a way to relish in this life anyway. Sign me up, Santa Fe...

---

The snow is falling just the way I love it and I finally laid my hands on that book on psycholinguistics that I always wanted to read. It is for work obviously. I think I will take it home with me for the weekend. And I will devour it like a novel. Psycholinguistics is very dear to my heart, as it ties in with so many theories I've developed from my early childhood onwards. Language is fascinating.  

What if there is no right moment?

What if one day you find yourself transformed into the most stunning butterfly, with technicolor wings and such grace and agility, it is hard to believe you've ever been anything else? You find yourself cut out for everything. The sunny side of life has finally caught up to you, a soft summer breeze is propelling you along and you just know that this was worth all the waiting. Sounds good? Well, it might happen.

Or maybe it won't. So you might as well try to be the jolliest caterpillar in the whole wide world. Day in, day out.

Die Welt lässt sich nicht besiegen

Egal, wie früh wir aufstehen. Egal, wie weit wir gelaufen sind. Die Welt lässt sich nicht besiegen. Am Besten wäre wohl, wenn wir das einsähen. Und die Richtung wechseln. Damit nicht wir am Ende die Besiegten sind.

"You know, I'm all for your desire. I crave the feeling of you wanting me naked, the feeling I get when I hear you gasping... but tonight, can we do something else? I would really need you to hold me without falling asleep right away. I would like you to experience this freakishly demanding need of being in contact with me, just like I experience it. So you could just hold me. And you would want to stay close to me, even if you're uncomfortable lying this way, because in some way you cannot fathom what sleep is for now that you are lying next to me. I would really need that. "