Can't Let Go

Last night I made true on my promise/threat to take down the leftovers of last year's Christmas decorations at last. House elf revealed himself to be somewhat of a traditionalist and cainophobe, the latter describing a person with a phobia of all things new and unknown, of changes in general - didn't know that, did you. Well, to be honest, I did not know either and to have this manifest itself in this here Nisse, took me by surprise. 

We argued over an hour about whether all-year-round Christmas decorations could be the next big thing. I told him I did not see that happening anytime soon. 

Suffice it to say that elf was not in the highest of spirits afterwards, thus withheld all co-operation (not that there was much to begin with) and attempted to sabotage my packing efforts with all his might. I did not want to cross said elf - last time I did, my hoover broke down. This was considerably more serious in the bigger system of things and I cannot afford to make enemies right now - remember my ass-the-size-of-the-moon problem, the general lack of a love interest in this chapter of my life, the up-in-the-air feeling I have when I think of my job situation - you see my problem... So no, I cannot handle devious flatmates on top of that. I have too much fabulousness going on in my fabulous life as it is. As I am my elf's keeper I sat him down and explained in kind and gentle words that Christmas once was very much about waiting and preparing oneself, that originally it was part of a season of quiet, darkness and secrecy, of being kind to others and putting said others first without making a big song and dance about it. 

He simply looked at me like I was demented and retorted indignantly that he KNEW that, thank me very much! It was sort of his JOB to KNOW that and live accordingly. 

Upon my question what the hell his problem was exactly, he simply answered that Christmas once a year was not enough. 

Christmas was of course code for goodwill and kindness. I shall not now go into his tirade about the general lack thereof the rest of the year. What with the rushing and buying and stressing and fretting and trying to be ever bigger and better and simply more - a race that reached its climax at precisely Christmas - he felt that mankind was not on a good path. Well, doesn't take a genius, does it, to work that one out. 

Anyway, we agreed that the decorations needed to come down at some point and last night was as good a time as any after Christmas. 

We also agreed that the SPIRIT of Christmas is not something that should go up and down with boughs of holly and baubles and candles and wreaths of ivy and bits of mistletoe and what have you. 

So go out and spread some Christmas cheer all year round, you little Scrooges. 

I know - once again I have set the world's moral compass due north. 

You're welcome.

Blessed Are The Merciful

... for they will be shown mercy, according to Matthew. 
While I am not at all knowledgeable on all things Bible and have my quarrels with the Church, I have been known to ponder on occasion the idea of what makes a good person, not a good Christian, mind. 
Ms Kaine has some interesting points http://bibleunlocked.blogspot.com/2010/03/blessed-are-merciful-for-they-will-be.html - which almost had me convinced that I should look into Christianity more. But somehow I was saved from myself. It must have been a miracle, I guess. 
Then again, I really should keep my mouth shut about something I know so little about. 
What I do know, though, is that when I was a little younger and even more naive than now, I used to look down on people who only go to church on Christmas. I really thought I had a right to judge because I was such a wonderously steadfast church member and so dedicated at that. 
Seriously, I should have been given a proper slap for thinking that and holding myself in such high esteem, that's what should have happened. 
But it didn't. 

So nowadays I am just glad that I overcame that supercilious foolishness and furthermore I am grateful (listen to this, Brad!) that I have not turned into some bible bashing anti-abortionist, gay-hating creationist or whoever is out there these days that calls for various good slaps on their behinds.
The irony of it all is, I HAVE turned into one of those people that only go to church on Christmas. Because I simply do not care. Because I am a godless person leading a profane and empty life revolving around money and pettiness and ungratefulness and bickerings, grudges, greed, anger etc. etc. Yup, that is me. Thankfully not the Whore of Babylon, but not a Virgin Mary either. Just your friendly neighbourhood sinner.

How can I not care when my soul is on the line? Easy - I just don't. At least not because the Bible, or the Church, is telling me to. 
I believe there is a God without churches, temples, mosques. I believe there are good and kind people without ten outdated commandments, I believe that open-mindedness goes a long way. I also believe that patience is needed. With others and with ourselves. 
A friend of mine used to remind me that I needed to be kind to myself in order to be kind to others and that if I could not be kind to myself how could anyone else be. 
Ms. Kaine gets that. 

I am just hoping that the reverse of Matthew's musings is not necessarily true. (Something nice and pithy along the lines of Cursed be the Cruel etc.)
God could not possibly be okay with that. From what I have heard, He and His Son are big on forgiveness and patience, especially with the ones that deserve it least. 
Well, I am no God, oh boy, and don't I know it. In fact I am/we are all too human. 
And therefore, I do not feel bad for saying the following (again): 
I am all done with rising-above. 
I have phantasies of putting someone through hell and back. 
I wish agony and fear on someone. 
In fact, I rue the day I have ever met this someone. 
So much so, that I would like to cut that part of my memory out and burn it and scatter the ashes. 
And the reason I am writing this is to show how very un-Christian I am, but also how very, very human. 

When you're in love you'd do a lot for the one you're with, all's pure bliss (until it isn't, of course), and indeed the world seems made for two.
Lana was right.  
But even more so was William Congreve: 

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned, . . ."

Damn straight!

Fa la la, la la la -freakin' la

Nothing feels more like Yule Tide Treasure than a flat after the builders have been. Believe me.
Joy To The World sort of sprang to mind but I could not quite get my nervous system to get over the urge to simply scream.

And as for decking the halls etc etc - well, there ain't much of a hall left, to be perfectly honest.

So I get home after work, the builders had left hours earlier and, well - the flat looks butchered like a body after open heart surgery. Read OPEN. It's a miracle my neighbours cannot wave to me through the ceiling. And the walls I am afraid to touch for fear the slightest impact sees them tumbling down.
Of course, people will say I exaggerate.

FYI - I have to live here and I feel like I have been permanently locked in a cellar that was once used as a bomb shelter in WW 2 - because that is what it bloody looks and smells like in my flat these days.



Not to mention the dust and the debris. AND the plaster that rains down as soon as somebody above me moves so much as an inch. Alright, my upstairs neighbour never really just moves an inch, he stomps around and is known to throw fits or tantrums or both on occasion. But that is another story. Anyway, there is a lot of plaster raining down in my flat.

But I digress . . . because the REALLY fabulous and thrilling news this week so far were this:

the work cannot be finished. Because there would be no point in drying up the walls and covering them up again and making everything look like sort of back to the way it was, since - wait for it - the leak in the upstairs drain is not fixed yet. It would be a waste of everybody's time and money, really, to fix the walls withouth having fixed the underlying problem, as it were.
Uh hm... I know. Me speechless, too...
My landlord, the DRIP, knew about having to change all the drains in this house for MONTHS. Why he decided to go about the whole thing backwards, I really cannot fathom.
Arrgh, it does not bear thinking about the whole sorry affair.

Basically my life looks like this right now: I work at a place that is still pretty much a building site. And BONUS! I come home to a building site. It's on a much smaller scale, of course. But that is beside the point really. Because everyone who has ever had work done in their appartment or house knows what it feels like when you are not "at home" at home.

Am I miffed? Of course.
Especially since this did not happen because I could not get the right people to fix this or did not want to spend the money for the work to be done ASAP. This happened because the person whose job it was to get this organised and done simply cannot be bothered.

Am I ranting? You betcha!!! Naturally I am ranting. If it did any good I'd be raving, too.
But really - what is the point?! I know this is not going to be fixed. No one's in a hurry, especially not before Christmas. ESPECIALLY not before New Year's. So what am I getting my knickers in a twist for?
It is indeed pointLESS.
Yet every single time I stand there and have to look at the walls open like that, the wallpaper ripped to shreds, the beams exposed, the traces of mould that have eaten into the building, I get upset.

And yes, I feel sorry for myself, too. Why does it have to be my flat? Why does it have to be Christmas?
Is somebody trying to tell me something?

IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE A LESSON?!

Well, if nothing else, at least I know what to put on my Resolution List for the new year - not that I did not know where to start in the first place OR needed any help finding resolutions:
Be prudent!
Find a new place to live!
Also: MAKE LANDLORD'S LIFE HELL. Alright, fine - IGNORE landlord. Concentrate on things I can change. Concentrate on points 1 and 2, that is.

Done! I'm done!

Totally finished first! That's how Dr. Cristina Yang put in 2.22 when successfully completing the first round of the skills lab.

And yes - I totally finished  - whether first or 346th - I do not really care. I repeat - I DO NOT CARE.
Because all that matters is I AM DONE with wrapping gifts, writing cards, carrying parcels to the post office and queueing for what seems like days.

My mission for the days to come (and boy, will I accept it): eat sweets and candied apples, drink egg nogg and mulled wine until I feel sick, have Bratwurst and pancakes and nuts and tarte flambée and mince pies.
I shall over-eat, be carefree and just enjoy December with all its high street Christmas madness.
I shall hum carols for no good reason whatsoever, I shall be jolly and though I will not deck the halls with holly, my heart will be light and my yule-tide gay. Yessir.

Now all I need is five gold rings and oh, yes that partridge in a pear tree.

Anyone?


Einen fröhlichen 3. Advent

Ooooh

It is the first weekend in December.  

It's the weekend of the Second Advent. 

 It's three more weeks to go to CHRISTMAS. 

Whhheeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

I personally will be indulging in mulled wine, chocolates and maroni and I believe a little bit of sparkling wine to celebrate the fact that I am back to work on Monday. 

Celebrate? 

Yes.

 Yes, indeed! 

This IS something to celebrate. 

I am looking forward to this new part of my life. 

I feel like I am starting afresh, like I'm being given a second chance at trying the whole "actually enjoying the job you do" thing. 

And whilst I am not skipping and jumping down the streets, hugging strangers, believe me when I say I am happy, very happy indeed. Quietly, though. 

Ok, every now and then I make this excited little squeak.  

I believe no Christmas present this year can top my finding a job and getting my life a little bit back to normal. 

Of course, there's still plenty other things to be improved. Isn't it always the way...?! 

Well, there's always next year.