No Hope, No Fear

There was a great song from a band called Borghesia called, "No Hope No Fear," which I've always enjoyed listening to.

Sure enough, it's the one song that isn't currently in my cache of music, but fuck it, I'll find it sooner or later for download. I fear the CD is stuck deep in a box somewhere in someone's closet. The compilation was called Electronic Body Music, and right now, I'm listening to a lot of dark electronica. When I went to search for it this morning on the way to work (in the ipod library), I realized I would have to wait.

It's been fun and zippy over the past couple of weeks. I love fall, so as the leaves change and the weather gets cooler, I constantly look forward to football matches on Saturday and Sunday afternoon, and try to fit in my domestic duties around a few games.

This past weekend was quite the lively one: Man U were held by Everton, Liverpool beat Chelsea, and thank goodness Arsenal managed to win 2-0 against West Ham Sunday evening.
I actually only saw the Arsenal match; I spent a good portion of the weekend getting back into the gym thing.

For the better part of the past six months, I've really only done sport on the weekends, and while I've been fairly serious about it, it's never enough, particularly on the rations I allow myself for cigarettes and alcohol.

Thankfully, I finally told myself enough is enough, and have gone back to every other day visits into the gym. Not surprisingly, my energy is coming back, my fitness is improving, and yeah, ok, maybe schnitzel is not the BEST thing to be eating post workout, but I'm not going to really knock it either. Besides, before this turns into a Henry Rollins kind of thing (man, that guy likes to workout a lot!), I'm still clipping along having pils and Jagers anytime I fancy it.

That said, I like the routine of bouncing around the fitness studio multiple times a week, even with the goofy short guys that are constantly flexing and checking themselves out in the mirrors. Let it be said, whether Dallas or Frankfurt, the trendy gyms are still the trendy gyms.

On other fronts, I believe my capabilities in German seem to be hitting a plateau. Thus, I'm renewing my focus on trying to communicate a bit more intelligently. No easy task, but it certainly helps when I study more regularly.

The concern about my language skills came from the realization that perhaps my team doesn't always understand what I'm trying to say in the workplace. Embarassingly enough, I always have mistaken their puzzled looks for the sheer bewilderment that their boss listens to copious amounts of punk rock on the way to work each morning at a deafening level on the ipod and shows up for the start of each work day pretty wound up.

At any rate, the grammar books are reopened, and I often eat dinner with Genativ, Dativ, and Akkusativ. Before you say, "gee, that sounds really boring," let me express my own slight concern that my new Bavarian boss is soon to hold our first staff meeting and I do NOT want to be the only guy that has to ask for everything to be repeated. I've gone the past six months without sitting through a 3 hour management meeting conducted solely in German, and need to react now and get back in the groove.

Alas, there's really nothing other to report this week save for the escapade I had on the regional bahn this morning enroute to work. I found a spot on the train, shrugged my gym bag and backpack off my shoulders, then said, "what the fuck!!???!??" as I realized that, once again, a bird has taken advantage of my naivity and pooped on my rucksack. Thank goodness it wasn't my head, but geez, it was a bit more than I wanted to deal with at 8am on a rainy morning.

Not to worry, I got it cleaned (more or less) with a couple of wet wipes (live and learn, eh?) and strolled into work with, er, no hope, and no fear.

keep the faith
bryan