Really?

When I came out of work this evening, I heard blackbirds singing. No shit. It was wonderful.

Is this Spring sending a little Singing Postcard?
It's January, for crying out loud. Shouldn't Spring be resting or something instead of showing off like that? Why waste energy before the actual fun starts? Or is Spring rather a spritely fellow who likes to tease us?

But oh, that little glimpse of what it will be like in a few months was . . . hopeful, inspiring, beautiful.

Really!

And Just When You Thought

Did I really say "Why bloody bother?" yesterday?

I did, didn't I. But not before I had a little rant about trying to bring on change WITHIN me and failing.

And POOF - there magically appeareth wisdom in the shape of Mr Pinto on http://intentblog.com/transformations/ and sets me straight once more. But probably not once and for all.

Can I just point out that we are again treading the floors of the house of Impatience. It's where I live in case you had not noticed. It's where I stomp my feet and yell at the top of my lungs BUT I WANT IT NOW! So it was this time with trying to achieve the brilliant feat of (drumroll!): becoming a better person in just 10 hours.

And yes, I KNOW - change does not come easy and despite popular belief kindled by all things advertising it DOES NOT come over night!
Yet do I take a deep breath and stay centred and aware of my actions, words, and thoughts and thus go about my day? Doing so in the knowledge that I will not master this kind of behaviour any time soon but shall persevere nonetheless?

Hello?! Of course not.
I rush right in like a proper fool, as it were. And like a fool I get ahead of myself and at the end of the day I - yup, that's right, like a fool - wonder at myself when I look at the day gone by and find so many moments I could have reacted, behaved differently. Sometimes I cringe.
Ok, I cringe a lot actually.

Perhaps I should wear a sign that asks the innocent passer-by: Please tell me to bite my tongue.
Oh, I hear vows of silence are back in vogue. Boy, I REALLY should get one!

But back to Mr. Pinto and Transformation. One cannot help but feel that it all sounds familiar, that one actually knows these things somehow, almost instinctively. Not because it's trite but because (and here I go again) in our darkest heart of hearts we know this. Still, the simplicity in which he explains what happens with us in times of personal change I find quite touching. It's also a little frightening. But again, I do believe that's to do with the fact that deep knowledge, perhaps long denied, is surfacing. If it is not pushed down again, for convenience's sake and because we do not truly wish change to come.

The fact that I know about my impatience while lacking awareness in the moment when I am getting frantic/edgy/antsy/brusque even, paired with the feeling of remorse for certain things said/done/thought,does tell a simple tale. The tale of the quick fire gun. As long as I behave like one such thing I will inevitably limit myself, my possible outcomes, I may jeopardise my ability and that of others to grow and learn and fulfill my/their potential.
Because clearly you cannot un-shoot a gun, you cannot put the bullet back into the barrel, can you now.

(Does visualisation work? Anyone?)

So, Pinto writes that transformation can only happen when one is ready to leave the past behind and "begin anew". Bringing about change within yourself, in your way of thinking and behaving, putting yourself in situations/positions you have never been in, would perhaps never have chosen before. Looking at the world through different eyes.

And so I seem to be stuck in a bit of a rut with my impatience-thing - it's perhaps a bit of a crutch you could say - as long as I can blame my impatience, I don't have to face change. I can simply rely on that to provide an excuse so I don't have to change myself, to strive for a different way of life.
Or in other words - the House of Impatience has become rather comfortable over the years. Too much so.

Question is, will I make my way out in time, or will I not even find the bloody door?

Well, here's what I think is happening. I leave the House of Impatience regularly. Every day in fact. Some days I wander off for miles, like I never intend to come back. Some days I find it hard to actually walk through the garden gate and never stray too far.

Perhaps what is needed - and THAT is indeed becoming a pattern in my life, too - is balance.
Holding not just "my" ground but a healthy middle ground between my weaknesses and strengths. And with a bit of practice and luck and patience and goodwill maybe I even find that what I thought was "bad" is not really but just something that helps me change. And if I really go all out then perhaps I can even try to be thankful for the blessings that have not yet come to pass.

Oh go on then, the ones in bloomin' disguise, too.

Before I Forget

I DID break one of the glasses I was drinking from on New Year's Eve.

Yup, I could blame a whole lotta things on that one glass, couldn't I.

Now there's a thought...

The Old Me

Let me say this:

It did not go as well as I had planned.

It is flippin' hard work and I slipped several times. In fact, I don't think I did any good today. Nor did I make a person happy. At least not to my knowledge.

That makes ME very UNhappy.

Am contemplating whether I am therefore a BAD person. Or just not very good at changing my wicked ways.


How come that for all the good I tried to do today I feel miserable and a bit like I failed?
(And yes, I do know the saying about the road to hell etc.)

I think I know why people rarely change - it's such hard work is why - and you're NEVER done.
So why bloody bother?

New Week Here I Come

I call it the PKG project.

I shall endeavour to be patient, kind and gracious toward my fellow men.

I shall endeavour to be patient, kind and gracious toward my fellow men. 

I shall endeavour to be patient, kind and gracious toward my fellow men. 

I shall endeavour to be patient, kind and gracious toward my fellow men. 

(Admittedly, a bit awkward and long for a mantra. Memo to self: come up with something pithy next time!)




P.S. Deepak keeps telling me to make at least one person per day happy. How do I know I have achieved that, though? I am not likely to be able to check that, right?

Yeah, Deepak - how do you suggest I count?!

Only one week into the new year and I have come to the conclusion that I am EVERY bit as bad and slovenly and gluttonous as last year. So sorry to all those list-writers and thank-you sayers, to the breathers and relaxers, the yogis and the gurus, the hopers and whishers, the aware and the enlightened. I suppose the LIST goes on . . .

Resolutions? Bite me!

I suppose one could now say: The year is but young. You simply slipped a little.
Nu-uh. I never thought I'd say this ever but here goes: What I have started I shall finish.
I rarely stick to anything but I do have a habit of giving up. I believe I can stick to that.

Good evening all.

Number 1

Ha, I just remembered.
On my way back home just now I did indeed see a 1 - one lady walked up to Eis Christina and tried to peek inside and then she checked the sign informing us all that they will re-open in February.

So that is my 1 for the day. And she seems to be as impatient as I for the ice cream parlour to open its doors once more. She, too, may be counting the days. She, too, cannot wait to go up to the big window and place her order like a kid. And then like a kid enjoy the smooth, cold texture of chocolate or vanilla or whatever flavour your heart may desire.

Makes me smile just thinking about it.

Numbers and Windy Season

On my way to work this morning I saw 3  people eating bananas. I also spotted 2 Christmas trees being blown about. There were 4 magpies struggling to keep their place on a roof and believe it or not somehow I came across 5 road sweeps huddled together in a doorway enjoying their morning cigarette.

I wonder where number 1 got to.

Anyway, it's crazy windy. And I am loving it.
Bring on more wind, I say!
Blow away silly women's hats and umbrellas and twirl around plastic paper bags!
Make clouds woosh by!
Lift up coat tails and swoop under doors and howl!

I would love to be Wind in training. Or Wind Intern.
Just imagine the things you could do.
Would there be a promotion at one point to Storm Apprentice or something? Though I believe such promotions would come with anger management classes.

The Big Bang Theory

Can I just say this - to get it out of the way:

Flat hunting sucks. 


I have come to this eloquent and rather smart conclusion just hours after having started this quest.
Yes, I'm a quick study.

Furthermore, I am unsure what to make of years that start with a "BANG" (for more on that read yesterday's entry).
I wonder if it is healthy for one to "start with a bang" - does that not muddle you up for the months to come. One may never recover. And then what has one gained?! A burst eardrum and temporary insanity.
I should like to start leasurely. That is to say - I would have liked that very much.

BUT! Since yesterday morning THAT is all out of the window. And I feel like bloody Gretchen in Faust, with my "peace ... gone/My heart ... sore" - though not QUITE for the same reason to be sure. But still. I feel worried and harrassed. And nervous.

The Bang - and size does not matter - is not my favourite thing, I can tell you straight off the bat.
As I have tried to point out before in my postings I like to meander through life and let things happen. Ok, so that is a polite way of saying I am a passive scaredy-cat.
The Bang does not help with that. It tends to get me more edgy and not necessarily more effective.
The Bang tends to do to me what snakes do to little birds and rabbits before they devour them. It incapacitates me. I am still sort of reeling from the experience and from trying not to panic and keeping calm and staying positive and optimistic - ALL AT THE SAME BLOODY TIM E.

Over-reacting, who me?!

Alright, no points for guessing correctly that I am freaking out a little, that I am essentially in panic-mode. That I would like to run away from this and pretend that nothing has happened and that all goes on as before. "As you were, soldier!"

I know, so mature, right?!

I feel a bit like I have to have a solution by the end of the week.
I also feel that I am very slowly catching up to myself and while doing so realising that all will not be lost if I do not have a solution by the end of the week.
And I am beginning to breathe again more slowly. Heartrate's going down, too.

So, suppose I don't find a new place on the first day I have started looking - should that frustrate me? Ok, don't answer that.
What I am really trying to say is (to myself) - stop being so insanely impatient. If you can master that the panic will stop all on its own. What did I say yesterday about the deep dark places in our heart of hearts? - That is where we always know the answers to all our questions, even the silly ones.
Unfortunately, we chose to ignore this inate wisdom far too frequently. In my case that is the reason why I am panicky, the reason why I feel I need to be impatient.

I am a nervous person by nature. I scare easily and I remember the days of my flatshare-times when I would frequently jump up and nearly go into cardiac arrest because my flatmate (for crying out loud) walked into the room unexpectedly. She would then simply say: Remember me? I live here, too.
I also do not necessarily like surprises. (Get this though, I get easily bored.)
Thus, I believe I cannot help but getting a little worked up about stuff most of the time. Memo to myself: Start with those breathing exercises already!

So that has me thinking - is this "BANG" perhaps a blessing in disguise?

A colleague said something interesting today: perhaps it is now time to start looking for something new because now is also the time that something "just right for me" is out there.

Only one way to find out, right?

Deary Me

Did I mention that the flat is falling apart?
Well, it certainly FEELS that way.

My favourite person in the world right now (aka HE WHO CANNOT BE NAMED) is still too busy and important and generally too deluded to be bovvered and so I am STILL waiting for the things to come to pass, i.e. continuation of the "WORK" that NEEDS to be done, i.e. exchanging the pipes and putting everything back to normal . . like plaster and wallpaper on the walls and the ceiling where it belongs.

I have had a letter from the above mentioned BFF in the mail before New Year's. But I thought, screw this, I am not going to spoil my fun and read this letter before 2012 has even started.
(BTW, my FUN consisted of over-eating, watching a truck-load of DvD's and generally being a slob really. I was considering calling into being the Couch Potato Society with me as Chairwoman - or should that be Couchwoman?)

So when I finally opened said letter it contained an awfull lot of name-calling and threatening if you ask me and had me a little scared this morning before work. I am still in a state of mild shock I have you know...

I know I have said it before but now it rings truer than ever - I will be needing to look for a new flat. And soon by the looks of it. That is, the new flat should materialise soon. My looking for it should have started like 5 months ago - at least that is the conclusion I had to make when I took a tentative and very quick look on various property and rental sites.

Anyway - I have - ONCE AGAIN - been thinking and I do believe my refusal to follow in Bradley Cooper's footsteps or rather his example has set a few things in motion.
(Let me re-phrase: my seeming inability. There, that sounds much more co-operative. And if nothing else I am co-operative.)

What if the universe now thinks me an ungrateful bitch for real - after the bouqet-incident last week that is all the more likely - and has decided to send me a little lesson?!?!? In the shape of a nasty letter and the prospect of eviction and lawsuits and other jolly things.

What if my inability to be grateful and openly so has angered the... well whoever runs the universe these days?!

What if I kind of asked for this?!

And if not by being ungrateful then perhaps by my moaning  - and publicly so (WITH PICTURES for crying out loud) - about the flat.
Perhaps the Chief Universal Officer thought, well she does not like it there anyway so why not shape the events in such a way that she will HAVE to do something about it.


Do you not find it worrying that I have all sorts of explanations involving HIGHER POWERS for what I am experiencing? Should I not have understood by now that the events in our lives are brought forth by our own will, might and energy?
I get it, ok. I get that this MAY be the best thing that could happen, like a little nudge to get active and start searching for a new place to stay. So why am I ranting? (Good point.)

Well. because I often feel that I am not in charge of my life.
And I feel that I am still  - far too often if you ask me - quite happy to bum along, as it were.
And I feel that in effect I am passive and waiting for some outside impulse to trigger my action, or should that be re-action.
AND I feel that I should not be like this at the age of ... well, never mind.

That has me worried. Honestly.
And I ask myself WHY?!
Is it fear, is it chronic lazy-syndrome, is it, dare I say it, some kind of self-hate?


Well, this is not the time nor is it the place. But I dare not guess. And anyway, deep in your darkest heart of hearts you always know, don't you.

Back to the point and first things first: I will have to get my head around thinking about a new place for real. Which presents me with yet another "problem" - the issue of WHAT THE HELL do I want in terms of accomodation which then triggers the question of HOW AM I GOING TO AFFORD IT?!

You see, 2012 has started with a bit of a BANG.

As yet I have not been able to decide if it qualifies to be put on any kind of gratitude list.





I wonder if Bradley does How to-sessions? DIY - The Gratitude List. Hm...

That Thing Called Hope

I remember it very cleary. I know for sure that they said, hope never dies.
I hope I'm not wrong. (Get it?)

What if I simply misheard that. What if we all did...?!

I thought it would be fun to ponder for a minute - on the last day of the year, naturally - what if nothing really changed or changes AT ALL. (I am now starting to think in the direction of 'bad idea' and 'Fun... not so much!')

What if what I thought was change was just a minor glitch, a minor de-tour in my hum-drum life to trick me into thinking I have what they call glitz and glamour in my life. Alright, not so much that but rather direction and purpose?

Remember:   http://somethingstartsnow.blogspot.com/2011/11/coming-through.html

How come then that I feel rather deflated and - I know I should not say it - frustrated.
How come that what was good a mere 3 and a half weeks ago now seems jaded pleasures?

Sorry, I am out of answers, out of silly things to write, out of neuroticisms and dizzy tales.
And I certainly do not want to spread gloom.

So, here's to hoping and wishing!

Happy New Year to all and sundry

Channelling Lauren

So, guess what. The roses were not from Bradley.

What a shocker (yeah, tell me about it!)!

Who's the Mystery Man you ask? Heck, if I knew.

Still no clue.

"Am I bovvered, though?!"

Dilemma

No more roses. No cards.

So far. Pheww! Thank God!

It's not that I am TRYING to be ungrateful. Or weird.

It's just... it freaks me out, being sent stuff by strangers.

Stalkers? Ring any bells?

Not that I think myself of as a potential victim. But then who does BEFORE they are being stalked.

Over-reacting, me?

I just find it a weird thing to do - sending someone roses.
WITHOUT a note.
And clearly not knowing me at all. Because if they did, they'd known I am not that big on roses.
I mean are we women supposed to swoon over a bunch of roses?

I find the whole idea a little  - forgive me - tacky. And creepy. After all, I do not know by whom they were sent. Clearly, whoever that was has got something to hide.

Oh, so I am the callous one now? I am an ungrateful bitch? I do not appreciate this kind gesture?
And if not that then at least enjoy the pretty roses, woman!
Right? Is that what I should be doing?
And why is that, may I ask?
Because I've been given a bunch of roses I did not even ask for?

Now, hang on a minute - what is happening right now, right this minute in almost any city on the planet (o.k. spoilt first world)?
I tell you what: a majority of those who have received Christmas gifts are RETURNING them. Shock horror! Simply because they did not like them, they did not fit into them, they were simply WRONG. And I don't hear them apologising for their honesty and candour.

So why the Dickens can I not apply the same reasoning to those stupid roses?
I mean, it's not like I am actually returning them. (Now, that would be weird.)
I simply want to be able to say, I DID NOT LIKE WHAT WAS GIVEN TO ME!

Also: let me rephrase my earlier statement.
It looks very much like I am being purposely ungrateful. The reason for that is that I probably am. Being ungrateful.
Hm, I thought those days of having to say thank you to your smelly aunt for some silly jumper she sent you for your birthday were over. Clearly not. They haunt me to this day - and whatever I am given, my upbringing and social etiquette demand that I smile sweetly and show gratitude. (Ah, here we go again - Bradley and his gratitude. His comes in the shape of a list, did I tell you? http://somethingstartsnow.blogspot.com/2011/12/being-bradley-cooper.html
I bet he never got ANYTHING he hated. Well, not in the last 7 years, I suppose.)

But be that as it may, I am simply trying to ask the unaskable - why do I have to be delighted by something just because everyone else would be and just because it's NICE. I cannot agree to that. At all.
And I am sorry if my behaviour is hurting someone's feelings.

However, I do believe that in order to send a woman a gift, whatever it may be, which she may appreciate and which may show her the sender's admiration or AT LEAST attention to detail, you need to know her a little.
Random flowers are not going to do the trick. Just saying.

Plus I nearly poked my eye out with the greenery in the bouquet.
So there!

P.S. Maybe they are from Bradley Cooper. Hm, now that would explain a lot. He is clearly too busy compiling his gratitude list for properly paying any attention. The only thing he is paying is taxes. If that.

Wowzers

Guess what, I got a bouqet of roses. Actual long-stemmed, dark red roses. No card.

Secret admirer?
Super early Valentine's gift?

I have not the faintest.

Oh, and I nearly poked my eye out with a piece of decorative greenery just as I thought 'I am going to poke myself in the eye with one of these things, I will' and there....

Anyway, I lived.
And now I have a vase full of roses.

To be honest, I am not a fan of roses, especially not dark red ones, especially not the ones that do not smell.

But hey, it's a kind of gift-horse, right? So I won't. Look it in the mouth and all that.


Then again, it might just be one of my girl friends playing a joke on me.


So, no one's holding their breath in this flat, believe me.

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.

Ich war auf dem Nachhauseweg nach einem Termin und ging die mir wohl bekannten Straßen im Westend Richtung Opernplatz. Man kommt natürlich unweigerlich an den Hochhäusern vorbei. Und natürlich haben sie irgendetwas an sich, das einen verweilen läßt. Es ist ihre Größe. Es sind die Lichter, die einem suggerieren, da drin wird nie geschlafen; einer ist immer wach, um irgend etwas zu tun. Und das muss ja dann bedeuten, dass es was Mordwichtiges ist, das "da drinnen" gemacht wird. Gut, das ist sicherlich Ansichtssache.
Aber ich spreche aus Erfahrung, wenn ich sage, dass man in manchen Situationen vom angeblich so Wichtigen, das (ebenso angeblich) noch unbedingt erledigt werden muss, fast verschlungen wird, weil man sich nicht wehrt, weil man manchmal sogar freiwillig mitmacht bei der eigenen Versklavung und entscheidend daran Anteil hat, dass die Lichter nie ausgehen.

Ich stand also vor diesen Hochhäusern und legte meinen Kopf in den Nacken, um mir ihre Größe bewusst zu machen. Mir wurde nicht schwindlig, ich war auch nicht berührt von Ehrfurcht oder Staunen, ob dieser menschlichen Leistung. Nichts von dem spürte ich.
Ich fühlte nämlich gar nichts. Keine Wehmut. Keine Bitterkeit. Keinen Ärger über die verschenkten Jahre.

Ich war nur erstaunt, dass ich jemals in diese "Welt" eingetaucht war. Dass ich wider besseren Wissens gehandelt hatte.
Zugegeben, hinterher ist einem ja immer alles glasklar und man fragt sich gerne mal, warum man das mitgemacht hat, oder mit sich hat machen lassen.
Im tiefsten Innern seines eigenen Herzens weiß man aber, dass niemand sonst seine Finger im Spiel hatte als man selbst.
Ich habe also zu dieser Situation beigetragen, an ihr gestrickt wie an einem Weihnachtsschal.
Ich habe sie herbeigeführt, ermöglicht und ausgehalten.

Und ich fragte mich, ob ich in Zukunft anders handeln und früher die Notbremse ziehen, den Absprung wagen würde/werde.

Das kann ich nicht sagen, das wären nur Spekulationen.
Ich kenne mich, glaube ich, ganz gut. Und daher ist da ein wenig Sorge - aber auch Hoffnung.

Man geht schließlich nicht umsonst durch die Täler, oder?

ODER?!?!

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

Some Newsflash!

Not sure whether I should feel excited, ecstatic even or just freaked out and a little scared.

I have had the news that after over 3 MONTHS of waiting something will finally be done. 

Waiting for what?

Done about what? 

Well, listen closely - at the end of August, water began to mysteriously run down my wall in the toilet. On and off I should say. But really - it's never a good thing when water flows outside of pipes and drains, especially in houses and flats. My landlord is of the Let's wait and see-variety which is always helpful, but especially so in situations like these. 

A pipe had burst in the flat above me and at some point the leak was found and covered. However, it turned out that it was the wrong leak apparently. Because I was still experiencing some weird feng-shui-like water garden show in my loo and oh, yes - boy, the wild swirling patterns of mould forming on the ceiling and walls of my bathroom and in the corridor. Kinda made me feel like I was in a continuous Rorschach test.
So the water-people returned and then fixed the RIGHT leak. (Makes you wonder how they test for leaks in the first place. IF they test. These guys, it seems, just kind of took a random guess the first time they were here.)
Praise the lord! The water stopped. Not to be blasphemous but that's what Noah must have felt like. 

Seriously, I am sooo over this whole thing. 

Anyway - cut a long story short (plus, I have been living this nightmare now for, wait, that's right, too flippin' long and I simply cannot recount all the silly details, excuses, heartache, and sheer and utter, tearing-out-one's hair-kind of frustration) coming MONDAY (12th December) builders will come to open up the walls and ceiling in the corridor, bathroom, loo, kitchen. 

Yup, that is right - I will be living in a war zone. Just when I am sort of settling in at work and the building site is slowly turning into a nice working environment, I shall be returning home every night to utter mayhem. At least that's what it already feels like to me. 

Don't get me wrong - I am not complaining.
I could just KILL my landlord for doing this NOW and not having done anything earlier. 

I just hope the whole house is rotting from the inside out and costs him all his money. Because that seems to be the only place where it hurts him.

I am not sure how I could possibly be zen about this. I am all worked up and I feel knots forming in my neck muscles already. And I will get an ulcer from this, too. I just know it. 

But seriously, though... I mean, I cannot avoid this right now. I shall carry on regardless. Right!
Right?

I just have the sneaking suspicion that my landlord wants to get rid of me and that therefore he does not really give a flying fig whether the work starts now or in the new year or never. Kinda like he is testing my "patience" or should I say stamina.
"Let's make the living situation the worst possible there is and she'll eventually leave" 

That is not a very Christmassy thought to have, I believe. 

But you get the picture. What we have here is a kind of a Scrooge. 

And really, I am not that much of a Tiny Tim to still think good of him, to still go all "peace on earth and good will to men". 

I really REALLY resent this fellow. 

Odious man. 

Insufferable creature. 

(And I am turning into a Jane Austen character as I am writing this. Dear!)

But what is one to do?

I feel like the fates have dealt me a bit of a shit hand here. 

So now what, I go and make lemo-freakin'-nade?
(Hm, it IS the season - so it should be mulled wine really, I guess - but that is beside the point.)

How do you make lemonade out of mildew and crumbling walls and no proper heating in your flat? 

Thoughts anyone?

(Moving springs to mind. Yeah, I have thought of that one already. Now THAT is daunting, indeed. Why is that, I wonder... Hm, maybe because I could end up with another super-jerk for landlord... But I also think: anything is better than THIS right here.) 

Watch this space, as the kids have it. 

I feel a project a-growing. 

The Super Cooper List

How hard can it be, right? Make a list once a day - you don't even have to write it down. You just do it in your head. Before you get ready for the day, or at night, before you go to bed - you get to chose.

So why in hell have I NOT managed to do this?!

It is odd to see myself come up with all sorts of excuses just because I do not want to list the things I am grateful for. As if that makes them more important, more real. As if I could accidentally jinx something. It's absurd, I know.
But I have been thinking about it and here's what I came up with.
Actually listing things, possibly even writing them down if you are so inclined, makes them indeed more real. Even the process of simply thinking about them, seems to pull them out of that big bag of unconscious every-day patterns of behaviour, of thoughts and highlights them. It almost seems like you are - in that precise moment of writing them down, of naming them out loud - consciously taking responsibility. You become accountable. That is even more true for listing things that you want. And I am not talking fame and fast cars and riches beyond whatever...
The things you may want to be, to become, to achieve. They grow the minute you put them onto a piece of paper, or simply out into the universe, but not just so on a whim but consciously. Like you actually mean it.
And THAT is what freaks me out. The meaning-it part.
Why?

Because we live in a world of make-believe and lies and insincerity and sugar-coating and sweet-nothings and what have you. So you don't necessarily get a lot of practice in actually meaning something. At least that is how I feel sometimes. It starts with "Have a nice day now" and ends with "Phantastic offer..." and there is A LOT that goes in the middle of those two.
I am not the kind of person that goes around telling fibs all the time. Not at all and that is not really the point I am making. I am just saying that sincerity is rare these days and one is often taken by surprise when it suddenly shows up.

So what, I am a bit of a coward and an indecisive woman. I get taken aback by sincerety because all the bullshit gets to me sometimes and I forget that there are nice people out there. (May I remind you of my landlord who definitely does not belong in the aforementioned nice-people category, so excuse me for being jaded. 'course he is not the only one, but who am I telling this.. we have all been there.)

How did I get here? Oh yes, the list. Well, I am none the wiser. I still have not really made one yet, let alone the list of all my intentions.

Hm, perhaps that would be something to do on New Year's Eve.

Being Bradley Cooper

Occasionally I do listen to BBC Radio 1 - the other day, lo and behold, I am witness to Bradley Cooper's musings on the Chris Moyles Show. Well, he was not so much musing, he was in fact being a bit boring, seemingly bored and generally not too chatty or, come to think of it, not THAT bloody glamorous, nice, zany, outgoing, or whatever the hell it is you're supposed to become when you're a Hollywood A-lister. So - bummer and for the life of me, I still cannot find it in me to swoon over him. And I do not understand my fellow females who do.
Sorry, ladies. But then again, all the more for you, eh?

BUT! One thing stuck in my head and I was actually pricking up my ears at that precise moment in the interview - which let's face it was not much of an interview at all - that was when Mr Cooper mentioned his gratitude list. Everyone in the studio was like WHAT? Yeah, me too.
So he goes into explaining what it is and why he does it and when. Well, we all pretty much get the idea, I believe.
Mr. Cooper of course finds ten things EVERY DAY to put on this list of gratitude. Hm, I wonder whether I can do that? I wonder if 5 is ok, too? I am sure they can be little things, too.
Though in Coop's world they are sure to be slightly bigger.

Today I wish to explain gratitude for my extended contract with 20th Century Fox.
I would also like to thank my agent for sealing the deal, etc etc. 
I am grateful for getting paid quite large sums of money. 
Oh, and of course, I am thankful for my looks, er my parents and ... err, wait, uhh, oh yeah - the on-going work of UNICEF, Greenpeace . . . 

I am kidding, of course!

He's never going to mention UNICEF in that list.

No, what I  am beginning to wonder though is whether this is not simply some kind of daily practice run for his Oscar acceptance speech (or Globe or whatever) - I can picture him/his agent sorting through all these old gratitude lists shortly before the big moment comes and he is asked to appear to accept his award and then the invitation also mentions that it'd be nice to utter a few words of dedication, thankfulness, jollyness and fun - well, whatever the hell your level of intoxication at that stage allows for, really.

Yes, I am being awful. I know.

And I shall stop and actually admit that the idea of such a list is rather beautiful.

When DO we take time to look at the things we might be grateful for, much less name them and show proper gratitude in whatever way we may wish to do so. There is, after all, no rule book. Which is a good thing, come to think of it. But it also means that we (as in mankind) are always and forever getting away with being ungrateful or too busy or too fabulous to actually consider being thankful for a change.
It takes no time.
Instead - much more importantly, it takes humility, humbleness. Things some of us never learn or never seem to be able to show. And it takes awareness to recognise that even though the good things in life may be free, they still should be truly and deeply appreciated from time to time.

Hell, if Bradley can do it, why not any other person on this planet?!
OKAY! Always start with yourself.
So, why not I?!