Words and a beer.

Love this:


Have you listened to Tom Waits' take on Silent Night? It makes me want whiskey in my hot chocolate. Or beer or wine. My month of not going out and being a hermit has caught up to me. I'm need a beer!

Day in Pictures

Since today was (still is) my dad's birthday, I suppose I subconsciously commemorated the day by taking pictures (this was his greatest passion).






I hope you are proud.

Swallowed By a Lonely Sea

Sometimes I want something covetous on my memory palette. Something I can sink my teeth into, something that leaves me feeling wanted. It's not that I'm lonely, but I know that it's going to be like this for awhile. That's the decision I have made and the current situation I find myself in. But for how long? Right now I have no deadline, no termination date, no future expectations, no promises or vows waiting for me. It's just me barreling through this adventure, unarmored, wide-eyed and ready for lightning to strike.

My best childhood friend is getting married. Married. I am no where near that life step and don't know if I ever will be. It's a crazy thought that someone so close to me who, you know, used to make mud pies with me and later on play Dream Phone and stuff...is taking that step without me (though I plan on going to the wedding in New Zealand in 2011).

How did I end up alone in Germany, creating a new life over here, cooking dinner for myself, waking up each morning and joining the morning commuters on the subway...sometimes I still can't grasp it. Shouldn't I have thought this through better or something? But no, I'm here, I'm happy and I am learning to appreciate every day and worry less. Everything will run its course. I want to be madly in love and be cooking dinner with someone else at some point...the when and how and who and where and all that I guess will remain open.

Time Present, Time Past

I arrived at the orphanage just before four in the afternoon yesterday. I had taken the S-Bahn from downtown and then walked through a beautiful Christmas market. They are all over Hamburg this time of year, tucked into every corner and on every marketplace. The air smelled sweet and the rain had finally let up. I tucked my polka dot umbrella into my purse and focused on finding my way, Moleskin in hand. I passed by a children's clothing store and then a mossy brick church till I arrived at the powdery yellow house with white trim. I paused for a moment before I entered the courtyard and listened to the faint laughter of children. The courtyard was empty. The air was bittersweet.

I met the headmistress with a firm handshake and we sat and talked over cups of fresh brewed coffee. She told me a little bit about her background (she is a licensed psychologist and has the kindest face you can imagine) but she mostly wanted to know my background and why I was offering to spend some of my Saturday working for free. I found myself opening up to her and telling her my current situation and my plans for the future, how I am starting to realize the career path I have been on might not be what I want from my life. We talked for an hour or so and then she asked me if I wanted to meet the kids I would be teaching. I swallowed my nerves and nodded. We climbed up a flight of stairs and entered one kids room. Colorful paintings lined the windowsill, the walls reflected a soft blue, stuffed animals were sprawled on the bed...a normal kids room. I was greeted by four kids and eight large and curious eyes.

"Are you really going to teach us English?" a girl asked me. Of course, this was said to me in German, so it was much, much cuter.

I looked at the headmistress and she nodded, "Yes, Linda is going to be joining us."

My "pupils" range from nine to twelve and are naturally at very different levels with their English. One common thread is that they all come from broken homes. I can only imagine what they have already been through at such young ages. But it doesn't frighten me.

Am I really doing this? Yes, I am. I am doing research on graduate schools in Oregon, Colorado, Washington and, obviously, Europe. I need to brush up on my math skills if I plan on taking the GRE next fall with a passing score (I haven't taken math in ten years and I was terrible at it then). All this while simultaneously working on my Icelandic (just trying to pronounce words like "fiðrildi", which means "butterfly," takes quite a bit of patience).

My plate is getting quite full these days, but my hands are steady and I am hungry for more.

When it Rains

When it rains I realize how loud my surrondings are. The cars seem louder; everything seems to ring out like never before. The rain slides off the roofs and falls onto the ground in heavy puddles.

I sometimes forget that I live in a big city. Big, big city. I walked around downtown tonight, through the throngs of Christmas markets, sensory overload, a rush of roasted almonds, Glühwein and flashing lights. I usually feel comforted being around so many people but some days the fast and often-frantic pace of things is too much. I love living in such a vibrant city as Hamburg but I know I couldn’t do it forever. I want my own piece of land next to the mountains, anywhere, I don’t care, long as it’s mine and it’s warm and quiet.

Hamburg Winter

you can do no wrong in my eyes

I'm back. Back to my routine of working, coming home and making something small to eat, playing some guitar and then reading and relaxing on the couch. But not every night is the same. Last night I tutored English for an hour after work and then met up with Janet and Melli for some delicious tapas in Eimsbüttel. The three of us have agreed to break out of routine and start going to other parts of Hamburg. This city is so huge and we usually end up going to the same places. Routine gets boring and I try to avoid it at every turn.

I'm happy. Happy to have started a new job, have a new challenge and meet new people. I couldn't be happier at Nikita. My job has a lot of responsibilty and I love hearing the daily mix of German, English, Icelandic and Spanish. My days fly by and I have turned into a morning person, waking up each day at seven and by eight thirty I'm sitting on the subway and then the bus to work. It's nice to be working in a new part of town and see new people on their way to work. Not having to worry about finding a place to work feels really good.

I'm excited. Excited for what lays ahead. Little mundane things, like doing laundry on the weekends, photos to be taken, the Christmas market, ballet classes on Sunday, to bigger things, like starting a language course in January, volunteering on the weekends for troubled teens, and working on finding more direction and a clearer path for myself. I find life gets more fascinating the older I get. And I am grateful.